Skipped SXSW, the film/interactive/music extravaganza nuttiness in Austin, TX this year. Didn't miss it.

Even more strangely, I didn't blink much when I learned that The Band of My Youth would be headlining a show at Stubb's, one of the best rib joints in the city, and home to big acts during the madness (including R.E.M. one year). And this is how I know I'm old.

Or, at least not a teen/twentysomething any more.

I got lucky a few years back: Not only did I get to meet TBOMY (okay, it's Duran Duran), I got someone to take a photo of me with them (favorite comment from a friend: "They're touching you!"); a year or two later I met them again this time on a one-on-one basis and realized they're a) people b) not interested in me on any particular level c) not going to remember me 2 minutes after I leave the area and d) I'm fine with that.

I completely get Bieber fever. Not because I'm a Justin Bieber fan, but because I get what it's like. The rush of adrenaline, the frenetic feeling you have when tickets are going on sale or the new album is coming out or some kind of news happens — or the gut punch feeling when your favorite musician is dating some girl. Like, he hasn't even met you yet!

I remember that. It was horrible, and it was wonderful and it was part of that age. It was bonding for me and some of my truest friends (waving).

But I got lucky. TBOMY not only stuck around, but I got a job where I was able to (briefly) be in their orbit, and closure happened: We all got old, some of them got beards, and that youthful pzzzzow! feeling took a back seat. And you could argue that it's a little sad, being an old fart who doesn't want to stand up for four hours — after waiting in line outside for another hour — until the main act comes on to play songs you've heard 1,000 times before — in a smoky bar in Austin. You could argue that.

On the other hand, it's much more relaxing to think: Did that. Got the photo. On to the next thing that makes my tummy go pitta-pat.

He's getting ready for bed right now.

DdrdcMEDIUM