AFF -- A fat fatty when you come back from Austin. Please Send Salt Lick I Want More Food.

I went to Austin for five days and gained four pounds. This is why I can't live there anymore.

It's just so much meat and beer, you guys. And I am powerless to resist it.

I found a way to make any trip to Austin seem to last twice as long -- spend half of your waking hours with your "Have another drink; now eat this meat" friends, and the other half at a "Have another drink; now eat this meat" film festival. I got to spend quality time with quality people, and the best part is ever since I got back I've been writing every day with much more productivity than I've been inspired to do in a long time. I'm very grateful for that.

Now, the sitting around writing isn't helping my "four pounds in five days" situation, but luckily I don't have immediate access to incredible brisket in my apartment. I've been doing a lot of home cooking instead. Of fish. And some chicken. But mostly fish. So I'm back down to pre-fun me, right at that frustrating part where I want to eat everything in Austin once again.

The nice thing about Austin Film Festival is that it's a conference for writers about writing. It's not so much a showcase for this film or that directing process or what's being picked up by whom. It's about the scripts, the business of working as a writer, creating stories and characters that are exciting and interesting and makes you simultaneously want to be a better writer and think you'll never amount to anything. I like that kind of inspiration. Because it's always fun to work when you're trying to beat the odds.

I spoke on a number of panels, and I think they mostly went well. I went to a lot of parties and made it through several nights in questionable footwear. I blew out my voice, most likely kick-started by Karaoke on the first night. I got to lead a pack of non-locals down Sixth Street. One night I went to dinner at a barbecue joint with a large group of writers and ended up being seated next to John August. I'm quite proud of myself that no matter what I never, ever, ever teased him for eating salad. Never. Not once. ...until now. I noticed it because it was the only green thing on the entire table. But still. Salad. At a barbecue joint. SALAD!

This time I barely got to Eat Through Austin. In fact, the closest I got to the list was goodbye lunch at Shady Grove.

This is where I got mercilessly teased for using a fork to eat a messy chicken wing.

"OH! In Los Angeles we eat messy things with FORKS!"

"OH! My MANICURE! This food is too FOOD-LIKE! I simply MUST use my FORK!"

"OH! Waiter! I'm so sorry, but I USE FORKS NOW because I'm so FANCY!"

Jerks. I got shamed into eating with my fingers. And this is why I'm glad I didn't tease John August about his salad.

Besides, I'd have immediately have dorked it up anyway.

"HA HA YOU ARE EATING SALAD and you write good movies-- You wrote Big Fish -- you know that, though, haha sorry -- but also: and you wrote things that Johnny Depp was in and -- OH WAIT! Tell Johnny Depp anytime here's a key you just give it to him I have to go now, sorry I just spilled my beer on your salad I FELL DOWN TOO STOP LOOKING AT ME bye."

....but still.

Salad.

... It only just now occurs to me that maybe he's some kind of vegetarian, but in Texas that's when you eat potato salad and beans.

Mmm. Potato salad. I miss Austin.

I am gonna go curl up around my fancy fork and cry.