I recently met Janet Pierson, the visionary force behind SXSW. I stalked her at an event as she added condiments to her dinner, plaguing her with some inane small talk. Eventually she turned and hammered, “Have you ever been to SXSW? I advise all filmmakers to actually GO to the festival.” Damn. Okay. So I did.
As a filmmaker who makes a living via reality TV, there were plenty of reasons to go. My ten-year marriage had recently tanked so I was beholden to no one.. I hopped a plane for Austin for a whopping two days. I had to work on Monday so I only had the weekend. Luckily, I did the smartest thing possible… I went for the Interactive week, as opposed to the film or music week. Why? Because the indie film world and television, as we know it, are dead. It’s fucking over. There’s a whole new generation of people who don’t watch conventional TV and the world is their oyster.
Nothing could drive that point home more than a Goldman Sach’s party at a downtown rooftop, during the height of interactive week as opposed to film week.
The party was to capacity and the attendees were an attractive blend of techies, locals and venture capitalists. Most all were under thirty and don’t give two shits about three act structures or the star power of former Duck Dynasty cast members. Who do they love? “The Fat Jew” – the celeb from Instagram, aka comedian Josh Ostrovsky. His appearance at the NewsCred brunch was one of the highlights of SXSW, for the social media savy. He is so incredibly talented and funny I want to dip him in chocolate, roll him in Cheetos, then eat him up then pick my teeth with his dog Toast. Except I don’t eat sugar or grains. I need to stay fit for my new hobby – sex parties.
Before ‘ya’all judge, here’s the back-story. The last year of my marriage was plagued with a sexual drought, so I felt the clock ticking on my sexuality. The late Joan Rivers once said, “What is this grey thing down by my ankles – oh, it’s my vagina”. She’s not kidding – Fifty shades of grey takes on a whole new meaning. So I decided to celebrate the golden years of my sexuality by attending as many swingers clubs and sex parties as possible.
Cut to later that night waiting in line outside the Vimeo party. When surrounded by that much youth, I often feel like a vampire. I flashback on all the other lives I’ve lived and wonder if the people around me know I’m actually a million years old. Anyway, as much as I loved chatting, I was anxious to get my roam on. It was already 11:00 pm and that line was not moving. So I made the executive decision to call Uber (I know, they’re lady haters but I hadn’t set up my other accounts yet).
Research revealed there was a sex club on the other side of town in North Austin. My Uber and I drove into the never-ending darkness that became a bunch of I-Hops and Denny’s morphing into a vast expanse of taco trucks and warehouses. Cat Stevens on the radio couldn’t quell my driver’s nerves until eventually we came upon the warm glow of neon illuminating a parking lot filled to capacity – whew.
Going into a sex club as a single female (or “Unicorn” as we are called within the swingers community) can be scary let alone uncomfortable. I immediately felt at ease when greeted by the girl at the front who was easily eight months pregnant. She was fresh faced and freckled like a “Carrie” era Sissy Spacek. And wow, what a ringing endorsement for the club – it’s like see, sex really does happen here!
Inside the place was massive with three floor to ceiling stripper poles and enough cabanas and beds to hold an entire earth repopulation effort! Far more space than participants, but the people in that club were beyond friendly and welcoming – they were lovely. But as the night wore on, it seemed like there was going to be more dancing than actual sexing, probably because it was the owner’s birthday. That would explain the party hats and the ghost of a potluck past strewn across the bar.
So after a quick grope with some sexy ladies that involved kissing, ass slapping and booby touching, I headed back across town. Famished, my Uber guy and I stopped for tacos. It was exactly at this point in the evening that I finally felt satisfied. Janet Pierson was right. Attending SXSW was way worth it because it gave me a glimpse into the future and an excuse to go play. So next up is Cannes – until then, stay safe — meaning no glove no love — and Muah!