I had to go back to work at my day job today, so I was a 9-4 guy. I managed to get out an hour early because I wanted to go to the Paramount and check out Ethan Hawke’s “Chelsea Walls” at 5:30. Also, it was J.K.’s birthday today and even though we had made plans to celebrate it after SXSW, I knew he expected me to call him.

J.K. is really cool about his cell phone when you call him. When he is with me and someone calls, he’ll tell them he’s busy with his “friend” and can he call them later or whatever. He never ignores you for a phone call. I like that. But, conversely, if you call him and he’s with someone else, he puts you off. It’s a fair trade though.

So I called in the afternoon and he was with parents. I called him later in the night (while waiting in line for “The Smith Family,” and he was with another friend (a new friend he met on the net – arrggghhh). I knew he was going out to party at night so I asked him to call me when he got home and he agreed.

When I got to the line for “Chelsea Walls,” my friend Allan Campbell (I’m going to spell it many different ways cause then it will be right occasionally) was waiting for me as we had planned. He was talking to Keith of the Dobie. Alan told me this long story about his neighbors shooting some sort of porn video in the complex courtyard. It ended with Alen finding some sort of “goo” in the flowerbed the next morning. Yummy.

Alan is also trying to talk me into going to see ”Journeys with George” because it has been written up in many national rags and stuff. Alan always treats me like a net journalist. I just like doing my own thing here and having fun. I’m not concerned with seeing movies simply because they have a buzz going or something. Well, sometimes I am. But, I don’t know how to explain it. Alan tries to tell me what he thinks I should do and, you know, I just wanna do what I wanna do. It’s not a big deal but I’d rather just hang and have fun and stuff. Alan also sends me links to articles by Michael Musto (or however its spelled) of the Village Voice and sometimes it’s real interesting stuff, like about Rosie coming out or something. I do like how the guy writes.

After “Chelsea Walls,” Alan and I went to Jo’s on South Congress to see Brandon Howe (of “cicadas” fame) and catch some of this film, “Dogs Bark,” that he was in. Jo’s is just a little coffee shop but they set up a screen in the back parking lot sometimes. It was actually a pretty cool set-up for a little outdoor thing. Alan got a sandwich (on foccacio bread!) and a beer and I took some photos and hunted for Brandon. We finally hooked up and talked quite a bit. Brandon is moving to L.A. at the end of this month.

Brandon, Alan and I were met by some of Brandon’s friends, a girl (Kathy?) who works for some paper called the something-something-Picayune. She was accompanied by a person allowing us to play the “Guess-My-Gender” game named Robin. This was probably a transgendered male to female but it was really a tough call. Regardless, Kathy and Robin were very nice. Kathy seemed as hot for Brandon as I am. Lust oozed from her eyes as she gazed upon him (who can blame her?) Brandon, for his part, was as sweet and easy going as ever. Nothing phases him. He was kind and gracious to all of us, including Robin. This guy’s not only a great actor, but he’s got a real easy-going and charming nature that will surely serve him well. When he meets someone in L.A. who won’t take advantage of him, he’ll be huge. HUGE!

While we were watching the film, I chatted back and forth with Brandon. This film was well shot and looked professional. Brandon did a good job and looked really sexy as a Goth kid. Unfortunately, he was the only guy in the piece trying to do something subtle and realistic. The rest of the cast thought they were doing some TV show or something. It was a pretty bad film in that respect. The script was off as well; it drifted between Brandon’s story and some nonsense about some old ladies escaping from an old folks’ home. I couldn’t see where it was going anywhere and I couldn’t imagine how the desperate stories in the film might combine for a climax. It was rough watching for a while.

Allan can sometimes embarrass me with his loud voice and his off-the-cuff remarks (but I know I do the same to other people so, as my friend Kathy used to say, what goes around, comes around). Sitting at the Convention Center with people all around, fairly loudly, Allen says, “Yeah Lodger I felt like you today because I was attracted to this underage girl. What is the age of consent anyway,” or something like that. It’s funny… now.

Tasha Oldham, the director of “The Smith Family” was really interesting and did a Q&A after her film, which is a remarkable documentary. It was about Mormons and after the film, I heard a familiar voice ask a question. It was Oriah Lonsdale of the awesome band Hobble, a friend of mine who is a “Mormon boy gone bad.” We said hello to him as we left the Convention Center. He was with a cute girl named either Holly or Molly and they were dressed alike (like nerds) with blue jean jackets and lots of punk pins. They looked like a cute, punk couple. Oriah wasn’t sure of any new gigs after their SXSW debut on Wednesday night. Tomorrow I have to be back up at 8am for work. But J.K. said he would call. I stayed up till 2:30am waiting for it and when the phone doesn’t ring, I dozed off. At 4:30am, I woke up and started freaking out worrying about why he didn’t called. Is he with someone else? Is he dead on the side of the road? Did he get drunk and pass out? I don’t care about him being with someone else (do I?) but he said he would call and he didn’t. My insecurities rose up like lava from a long dormant volcano. I toss and turn and worry and hyperventilate until at least 5:30 am.

Lodger @ SXSW2002