Preface
Death and Hardship
Getting There Is Half The Journey
Camp
If You Build It They Will Come
Camp
If You Build It They Will Come
The Temple
A Brief Moment In Time
Broke Dick Camp
A Brief Moment In Time
Broke Dick Camp
Pepperoni Pizza on the Playa (PPP)
Drugs
Altercation
The Germans
The Germans
Darude Sandstorm
Serendipity
Serendipity
The Man Burn
The Temple Burn
Random Musings
Investments Must Be Made
Exodus
Conclusion
It’s 8:30AM on a Sunday and Burning Man is just getting started. The young woman literally bursts from the Porta-Potty completely naked, tanned, toned, and proud as anything. She briefly performs a classic super hero pose, balled fists resting on well shaped hips. Then after the moment, awkwardly shuffles back into her coveralls.
“Ah yes…” I think. After three years... “Welcome to Burning Man. I’m home.”
Edward the Siamese passed away due to a rare form of feline blood vessel cancer in October of 2020. His oncologist said that in her 30 years of practice she’s only ever seen one other case of it in a cat. Ed won the cancer lottery in the worst way possible.
In 2020 I was out of work like a lot of people, all while attempting to fight for Ed's life, or at least in the end buy him one more summer. I racked up medical bills, and felt the painful blow of each monthly rent payment. In 2021 I was able to pick myself back up again, and while it took a while, I'm in a much better place now in 2022. I have a new job I love, and a new apartment I never want to move out of. I even started a new mental health treatment plan that has been astounding in it's results for me personally.
Then I lost an old friend to cancer rather suddenly over the summer. It all happened in a matter of weeks. He was my age, and he pulled the ultimate Irish goodbye. It very much made me feel my own mortality creep up on me. Dan was family.
Months went by as I planned to attend Burning Man again. In between going through old equipment checklists I sculpted a depiction of Ed that I was absolutely determined to place in the non denominational Temple which gets burned down at the end of the event each year. You can learn more about said tribute, and how exactly I created it at my other blog here.
As I was preparing, just days before my trip my father was hospitalized with heart and lung issues. He'd have good days, then bad. I didn't want to leave my mother to deal with the situation alone, but my family was very supportive of me going on this trip regardless. Essentially my father did not want me to sit around and watch him suffer. This was something nearly 3 years in the making, and I had a mission.
My journey began with me frantically trying to transport a statue of my deceased cat to a Temple in the desert 2,000 miles away, and it ended with me starting to write my father’s eulogy in a hotel room in Reno.
I didn't take these photos. I hope the internet doesn't mind.
The Temple was called Empyrean this year, and was in the shape of a giant compass blossom you see on maps. It's an incredibly overwhelming emotional place by design. If you're not there for a specific reason it can be down right depressing. The place can emotionally drain you in short order. The atmosphere is so heavy that in previous years I could barely stand 10 minutes in it before having some sort of break down and needing to leave. For someone who thinks of themselves as empathetic, or feels that they have big emotions this place makes you feel like you are drowning in other people's sorrow.
I left the Temple in a daze. I had accomplished what I needed to do. I brought this creation across the country to where it belonged, and I was just emotionally spent.
Head swimming I went to look for my bike regretting that I simply ditched it in the sand during my mad dash to literally let the cat out of the bag. I began to worry. Would I have to stay here overnight and find it in the morning when I have more light? Should I just walk back to camp? Should I…
“Looking for where you parked your bike too?” she said.
My campmate and I were on our way to check out a camp called Space Cats that was having a party when down the road we see some idiot using his high beams. It's the desert on a clear night. What are you looking for? More nothingness? He then proceeded to veer into our camp and run over some of our lighting equipment. My campmate and I were rightfully pissed as this asshole just rolled into our camp uninvited and made a mess of things.
We checked in with the Germans who confirmed that they were listening in on the situation.
On Saturday the Man Burn is a time of excessive celebration. A bacchanal involving ~70K people, most of which I want kept well the fuck away from me. You’ll notice as the videos/photos progress I’m moving farther from the crowd rather than toward it. After all this time I’m still not used to being around this many people.
This is Black Rock City:
It’s 8:30AM on a Sunday and Burning Man is just getting started. The young woman literally bursts from the Porta-Potty completely naked, tanned, toned, and proud as anything. She briefly performs a classic super hero pose, balled fists resting on well shaped hips. Then after the moment, awkwardly shuffles back into her coveralls.
“Ah yes…” I think. After three years... “Welcome to Burning Man. I’m home.”
Preface:
I mean that’s a pretty good hook right? I know many of you might be here to listen to hedonistic tales of adventure. A story filled with fire, great mechanical beasts that roam the apocalyptic landscape, and witnessing things you can’t believe as your brain tries to process what the desert is shoving down your throat.
Now some of this story absolutely does involve all that, so I promise not to disappoint. But in the end this was a very different Burn for me personally.
Now some of this story absolutely does involve all that, so I promise not to disappoint. But in the end this was a very different Burn for me personally.
This is a story about dealing with death, and processing grief.
And like a lot of great stories this one involves a cat.
Death and Hardship:
Edward the Siamese passed away due to a rare form of feline blood vessel cancer in October of 2020. His oncologist said that in her 30 years of practice she’s only ever seen one other case of it in a cat. Ed won the cancer lottery in the worst way possible.
In 2020 I was out of work like a lot of people, all while attempting to fight for Ed's life, or at least in the end buy him one more summer. I racked up medical bills, and felt the painful blow of each monthly rent payment. In 2021 I was able to pick myself back up again, and while it took a while, I'm in a much better place now in 2022. I have a new job I love, and a new apartment I never want to move out of. I even started a new mental health treatment plan that has been astounding in it's results for me personally.
Then I lost an old friend to cancer rather suddenly over the summer. It all happened in a matter of weeks. He was my age, and he pulled the ultimate Irish goodbye. It very much made me feel my own mortality creep up on me. Dan was family.
Months went by as I planned to attend Burning Man again. In between going through old equipment checklists I sculpted a depiction of Ed that I was absolutely determined to place in the non denominational Temple which gets burned down at the end of the event each year. You can learn more about said tribute, and how exactly I created it at my other blog here.
As I was preparing, just days before my trip my father was hospitalized with heart and lung issues. He'd have good days, then bad. I didn't want to leave my mother to deal with the situation alone, but my family was very supportive of me going on this trip regardless. Essentially my father did not want me to sit around and watch him suffer. This was something nearly 3 years in the making, and I had a mission.
The thing is when you go to Burning Man you are essentially "off grid". Cellphone reception is decimated, and beyond spotty once the event is in full swing. Internet satellite hook ups are available at some camps, but you're on your own on how to access that out in the desert.
I found out late in the week that my father had passed away the previous Sunday when I leveraged a camp's satellite access before their generator gave out.
My journey began with me frantically trying to transport a statue of my deceased cat to a Temple in the desert 2,000 miles away, and it ended with me starting to write my father’s eulogy in a hotel room in Reno.
Getting There Is Half The Journey:
I ran out of time so I put Jake in charge of my packing at the last minute. Yes I trust him, but he's still a cat. I got onto an airplane really hoping he didn't fuck it up.
Taking the red eye cross country to Reno I still had a lengthy layover in Phoenix where I ran into an old friend from High School at the one taco bar in the airport because traveling is weird like that sometimes.
I still think the Walmart in Reno is a level of hell unto itself, and it's something I hope to cut out altogether next time while shopping for last minute supplies like food/water.
Something different I had to deal with this year was bringing a bike in with me. They changed the rules this year for the worse, and now you can't actually rent a bike beforehand, and pick it up out on the playa like you used to. Instead I had to pack a travel bike rack, and pick up my main mode of transpiration at a warehouse in Reno before hand. The folks over at PBR (Playa Bike Repair) took pity on me and showed me how to actually secure the bike to my rental car so it doesn't fly off during the ~200 mile journey into the desert.
The thing is you never know the timing of the pilgrimage. If you leave for Black Rock City too early before the gates open they essentially put you in a parking penalty box. But I was way ahead of schedule, and growing incredibly anxious. I left Reno somewhere around 8PM. A lot earlier than I ever had before, but I really just wanted to get to the desert as soon as possible. My timing worked out, and after a 4 hour drive through Native American lands, I breezed through the gate and hit the playa in about an hour and a half.
I spent a fair amount of time trailing this art car shaped like a lady bug.
Camp:
Camping this year was going to be a lot simpler by design. One other campmate and I planned on holding down a corner space out in the suburbs at address 8:45 and J. My friend was able to claim/secure the open spot long before I arrived. He told me to look for the mascot.
Pictured mascot. Hard to miss.
Since it was the dead of night at this point I figured I'd sleep in the car a few winks, and start building our new home in the morning.
If You Build It They Will Come:
My tent all blinged out this year.
We kind of became a camp dumping ground for crap. Much of it mine. I swear the vodka isn't. I only drink the finest Five Freedoms plastic handle vodka. Four Freedoms isn't enough Freedoms for me.
Camp at sunset.
There's something to be said about a really good shade structure that can tie together a neighborhood. It invites weary travelers, strays, people who maybe only stay for a moment to grab some water. Speaking as a former stray myself with no formal camp they might even become part of your group, good friends, or at least lessen the burden of the neighborhood through shared resources.
I'm still amazed by the generosity of people out here, and always endeavor to follow suit. Everyone lives and dies by the "playa provides" mantra. Need a mallet to hammer down some stakes? Someone around here's got one, just ask. Your phone on 1%? We got battery packs. Didn't pack a tarp? That's OK here's a spare. Your refrigeration system conked out? Here's some space in our cooler for you.
You could say I had a soft spot for one stray in particular. Her story involves having the meager belongings she brought with her spread across at least 3 camps just to survive after she was abandoned by the individual who brought her here only a few days in.
I couldn’t help it. To see her poking around camp in the morning after a hard night, looking for resources. It painted a picture in my head of Bambi trying to get their legs underneath them on the playa. I could not let her fail.
I’m also going to be honest in that she very much reminded me of an ex-girlfriend who I also had a lot of difficulty saying “no” to. And like that ex-girlfriend she now has a comfy T-shirt that I know I’ll probably never get back.
You could say I had a soft spot for one stray in particular. Her story involves having the meager belongings she brought with her spread across at least 3 camps just to survive after she was abandoned by the individual who brought her here only a few days in.
I couldn’t help it. To see her poking around camp in the morning after a hard night, looking for resources. It painted a picture in my head of Bambi trying to get their legs underneath them on the playa. I could not let her fail.
I’m also going to be honest in that she very much reminded me of an ex-girlfriend who I also had a lot of difficulty saying “no” to. And like that ex-girlfriend she now has a comfy T-shirt that I know I’ll probably never get back.
Hey, Ed's statue just hanging out.
The Temple:
I didn't take these photos. I hope the internet doesn't mind.
The Temple was called Empyrean this year, and was in the shape of a giant compass blossom you see on maps. It's an incredibly overwhelming emotional place by design. If you're not there for a specific reason it can be down right depressing. The place can emotionally drain you in short order. The atmosphere is so heavy that in previous years I could barely stand 10 minutes in it before having some sort of break down and needing to leave. For someone who thinks of themselves as empathetic, or feels that they have big emotions this place makes you feel like you are drowning in other people's sorrow.
This year it felt more like a place of refuge. A place where I could share my grief and get it all out. Mournful wailing folk music, and soft drums often fill the space. I sat in a circle of others also seeking to process what they were feeling. Some hastily wrote notes to the fallen. Some cried in each other's arms. Some simply meditated. All mourned.
The temple was quite busy this year as so many have been lost since 2020. You are encouraged to build shrines, leave notes and pictures, scrawl things on the wall with a sharpie if you have to. Belongings of loved ones litter the walls and halls. I saw: pieces of furniture, sun glasses, a firefighter jacket, giant posters of loved ones, various articles of clothing, a lot of curses toward COVID and cancer.
It was Tuesday night when my campmate and I found out the Temple was open for business. They often need an extra couple of days to get everything ready during the event. We decided to go right then and there so that I could find Ed a nice spot.
Now my campmate Sway is been doing this for 19 years. He's basically my Burning Man Gandalf, or if Yoda chose to live on a desert planet rather than a swamp one. He knows the city better than anyone. In nerd gaming terms because he's a level 19 Wizard he just fast traveled us there in under 5 minutes. As soon as I saw the temple in his words I "Took off as if I was on a mission from God." I dumped the bike carelessly. Didn't even remember to lock it like I'm usually paranoid about, and even though I was directly out front I chose no markers in which to remind myself where I'd parked. I had the tribute in my back pack, and I felt like if I didn't remove it soon either I, or it, or both, were going to explode.
I found Ed a really nice spot by one of the corners of the compass. I checked in on him a few times through out the event, and it was fascinating to see how everything around the area filled in. Someone even made Ed a little collar/bracelet. My heart melted.
I lost track of time, and grew tired. I just wanted to return to camp and crash, but the night had other plans for me.
A Brief Moment In Time:
I left the Temple in a daze. I had accomplished what I needed to do. I brought this creation across the country to where it belonged, and I was just emotionally spent.
Head swimming I went to look for my bike regretting that I simply ditched it in the sand during my mad dash to literally let the cat out of the bag. I began to worry. Would I have to stay here overnight and find it in the morning when I have more light? Should I just walk back to camp? Should I…
“Looking for where you parked your bike too?” she said.
A beautiful woman about a head shorter and many years younger than me approaches. Her hair is set in a perfect pair of playa braids that reach to her waist. She’s wearing a classic apocalypse-chic outfit that would be at home in any Mad Max movie.
“Actually yeah, would you like to do a few laps around the Temple and see if we can find them?” I said.
And to my surprise rather than just starting off in the same direction. She took my hand.
I began to ramble, because honestly I can’t seem to fuck things up fast enough in these situations. I tell her about Ed, the sculpture, and the journey out. I must be boring her. I mean who is this weirdo talking about a cat statue? I leave Dan and my father's uncertain fate out of this because it's already a bit too much to talk about.
I don’t notice that the entire time we’ve been looking for our bikes she’s been slowly folding herself into me. So that by the time I did find my bike she was fully hugging me, holding me still with her face buried in my chest.
She tells me about how she believes in the healing power of sexual energy. How she wants to help me with the grieving process… Now I am not a spiritual man by any stretch of the imagination, but I’d believe whatever this beautiful woman wants as long as she keeps touching me.
If “consent” is the most important word on the playa “boundaries” would be a close second. I pull away a bit and tell her that this would be easier to navigate if I understood the boundaries of the situation, and what she was trying to share with me. A small nervous tension breaks in the space between her shoulders and she falls back into me, crushing my ribs for good measure.
It’s at this point I use a line. Maybe it’s not the best line in the books, but I wrote it myself a long time ago as part of another story.
“Squeeze me until you feel something inside me break. Then squeeze harder.”
She obliged.
She murmured something into my chest that involved the word “conscientious”. I mentioned that given the general sexually charged atmosphere of Burning Man I understand it’s best to just lay things out so all parties involved can agree to it. So on that note she pulled away, and explicitly rattled off a short litany of things I could, and could not do to her that I will not repeat here. I confirmed, and also added for good measure that if for whatever reason my hands end up in a place they shouldn’t, please push back.
“Actually yeah, would you like to do a few laps around the Temple and see if we can find them?” I said.
And to my surprise rather than just starting off in the same direction. She took my hand.
I began to ramble, because honestly I can’t seem to fuck things up fast enough in these situations. I tell her about Ed, the sculpture, and the journey out. I must be boring her. I mean who is this weirdo talking about a cat statue? I leave Dan and my father's uncertain fate out of this because it's already a bit too much to talk about.
I don’t notice that the entire time we’ve been looking for our bikes she’s been slowly folding herself into me. So that by the time I did find my bike she was fully hugging me, holding me still with her face buried in my chest.
She tells me about how she believes in the healing power of sexual energy. How she wants to help me with the grieving process… Now I am not a spiritual man by any stretch of the imagination, but I’d believe whatever this beautiful woman wants as long as she keeps touching me.
If “consent” is the most important word on the playa “boundaries” would be a close second. I pull away a bit and tell her that this would be easier to navigate if I understood the boundaries of the situation, and what she was trying to share with me. A small nervous tension breaks in the space between her shoulders and she falls back into me, crushing my ribs for good measure.
It’s at this point I use a line. Maybe it’s not the best line in the books, but I wrote it myself a long time ago as part of another story.
“Squeeze me until you feel something inside me break. Then squeeze harder.”
She obliged.
She murmured something into my chest that involved the word “conscientious”. I mentioned that given the general sexually charged atmosphere of Burning Man I understand it’s best to just lay things out so all parties involved can agree to it. So on that note she pulled away, and explicitly rattled off a short litany of things I could, and could not do to her that I will not repeat here. I confirmed, and also added for good measure that if for whatever reason my hands end up in a place they shouldn’t, please push back.
[SCENE MISSING]
When the moment was over she invited me to a workshop that even though she gave me the address and time I knew I’d immediately forget. We parted ways cordially. Letting things cool down as fast as they heated up. It was a moment in time, and just that.
I stumbled back to my camp in the early morning wondering how the hell I was going to put all this into words.
When the moment was over she invited me to a workshop that even though she gave me the address and time I knew I’d immediately forget. We parted ways cordially. Letting things cool down as fast as they heated up. It was a moment in time, and just that.
I stumbled back to my camp in the early morning wondering how the hell I was going to put all this into words.
Broke Dick Camp:
A lot of people spend a lot of money to come to Burning Man. I've always said it's like spending money on a 5 star resort only to cram yourself into a dusty tent for the remainder. The irony is not lost on me that this whole thing makes it extremely expensive to live like a refugee for a week.
But then there are "turn key" camps. Glamping at it's finest. It'll only cost you TENS of THOUSANDS of dollars. You want internet? Check. You want AC? Check. You want someone hand feeding you sushi while getting a foot massage? Check, and check. That is if the camp director knows what they're doing. If not... well then you've got a mini Fyre Festival on your hands, and things can go from 0 to Lord of the Flies really fast.
Weird dining hall thing they couldn't keep inflated the whole time...
Compare that to Scooby-Doo over here living his best life.
Compare that to Scooby-Doo over here living his best life.
The problem is that these kind of camps foster people to be spectators rather than participants in shared survival, and I can't blame them as having all of their needs being taken care of is what they're being sold on. But as soon as you leave that protective bubble the desert is ready to eat you alive.
I don't know the full details of this camp, but these guys looked like they were really struggling.
Pepperoni Pizza on the Playa (PPP):
I started my career working as a civilian contractor for the US Army. The base where I worked specialized in meeting the logistical needs of your average soldier. That meant research into things like: uniform fabric that adapts to the climate, versatile kitchen equipment, and especially supplying soldiers with MREs (Meals Ready to Eat). The most requested MRE to be developed was pizza. I'm not sure if they ever achieved this goal given the lofty shelf life requirements. Also prototypes I hear tasted like ketchup on cardboard. Which to be honest isn't too far off from most of the MREs I've tried.
Consumer brand Omeals on the other hand does not need to meet the rigorously high bar of military grade pizza, but uses the same concepts as other self heating MREs. I can't fly out with a camping stove. So most of my hot meals are usually cooked by other people. This round I brought a fist full of Omeals, and they performed wonderfully. The concept is that they put food in a pouch, and give you a chemical packet that reacts to water through a thermogenic process to produce heat.
We're talking about steaming pizza in a pouch out on the playa. If you listen to the video we all got a good kick out of this as you can tell. The verdict? Not half bad. Next time I'm bringing a literal crate of pepperoni pizza. I will dress up in a full chefs outfit, complete with poufy hat, and hand it out in the desert like I'm the god damn Mad Max version of Chef Boyardee.
I swear it was piping hot, and tasted better than it looked.
Drugs:
OK so let's address the elephant in the room. Unless the elephant you see is pink or something... then those bastards can't be trusted. Wait where was I? Oh yes, drugs.
Drugs are not a major part of my journey out on playa. That said I'd be reticent to say that I'm not more inclined to try new things in general out in the desert than I would normally seek out back at home.
Day one a random woman OD'd right out in front of our camp. My campmate flagged down the Rangers quickly and got help. We weren't familiar with this person. I don't know the specifics. I don't know what she was on. I don't know of her current state. But it certainly set the cautionary tone of the event for us, and was a sobering experience overall.
Much of your time here is figuring out where your own personal line is drawn. Sober Burn? You do you. Sticking to cannabis (not legal at Burning Man BTW) and alcohol? Those are major food groups on playa. Anything beyond that is really you weighing how fucked up you want to get relative to how risky that is out in the desert.
Much of your time here is figuring out where your own personal line is drawn. Sober Burn? You do you. Sticking to cannabis (not legal at Burning Man BTW) and alcohol? Those are major food groups on playa. Anything beyond that is really you weighing how fucked up you want to get relative to how risky that is out in the desert.
I recommend if you really want to trip and meet your spirit animal or whatever, do it in a controlled environment with someone relatively sober you trust supervising you. Don't think of it as a babysitter. This person is your personal Sherpa. Otherwise you run the risk of spinning out of control in a hostile environment. It's like trying to climb Mount Everest in shorts and flip-flops.
I had a set of friends that told me they needed to be fished out of the desert by the Rangers after a bad LSD trip that left them relatively twitchy. I'm not going to judge anyone, because a lot of unexpected things can happen that you can't always plan on, but personally I hate feeling helpless out in the wastelands.
I've been undergoing a trial mental health treatment plan that involves the psychedelic drug Ketamine. But even though this was prescribed to me by a doctor I would never bring it out to the desert with me for fear of being completely incapacitated for 4 hours. I had a lot of honest discussion about psychedelics with people, and how it's helped them. I will also freely admit I took psychedelics out there under supervision. There is a really massively positive side to this. But recreation being what it is, and the freewheeling nature of the environment...
Just try to be safe out there.
Altercation:
My campmate and I were on our way to check out a camp called Space Cats that was having a party when down the road we see some idiot using his high beams. It's the desert on a clear night. What are you looking for? More nothingness? He then proceeded to veer into our camp and run over some of our lighting equipment. My campmate and I were rightfully pissed as this asshole just rolled into our camp uninvited and made a mess of things.
Now 99% of the time I avoid conflict, and both personally and professionally I would prefer to attempt to deescalate the situation. But this person is obviously lost, and overtired/under the influence/just an idiot. We can't count on reason. This is a situation where Cersei would choose violence.
So we're screaming "What are you doing!?" , "You just ran over my lights!". And the woman in the passenger side appears absolutely mortified. She's not 5 minutes into Burning Man, and they've already upset the locals. She's apologetic, but it's like introducing yourself to a new neighborhood by shitting on the person's lawn next door. Not a great first impression. Her idiot driver puts the car in park and proceeds to get out to check his precious oversized SUV for damage. Protocol demands that he really should have just driven off, so at this point the conflict has escalated. She proceeds to roll up her heavily tinted window (obviously so they can see better at night). He stumbles around front and asks "Do you need anything?"
Now you can take the kid out of Boston, but you can't take the Boston out of the kid. So I told him in no uncertain terms:
"WE NEED YOU TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF OUR CAMP!"
Now here's the thing. That's not what I actually said. Normally, I don't have any accent what so ever. As a Bostonian I fought very hard to retain my "R's" through years of musical theater training. I actually get a kick out of new people I meet out here not knowing where I come from initially. But when you're angry, and you have a few White Claws coursing through your veins, anyone from Boston is allowed to sound like they're reenacting a scene from The Departed. So what came out was more like:
"DUDE WE NEED YOU TO GET THE FAHK OUT OF AH CAMP GUY!"
He stumbled back acquiescing a bit with hands in the air, but still had the audacity to ask if the RV next to us was a part of a particular camp he was looking for. "NO, LEAVE." was our combined response.
Now to use the current vernacular, if this gentleman had indeed wanted to "fuck around and find out" as it were, I don't think our old out of shape asses would have had to necessarily throw down. Thing is the RV he was dumbly pointing to was chock full of tall blonde German beefcake (some with military training) that would have come to our aid if need be.
Now to use the current vernacular, if this gentleman had indeed wanted to "fuck around and find out" as it were, I don't think our old out of shape asses would have had to necessarily throw down. Thing is the RV he was dumbly pointing to was chock full of tall blonde German beefcake (some with military training) that would have come to our aid if need be.
The Germans:
We checked in with the Germans who confirmed that they were listening in on the situation.
The group was from Düsseldorf, Germany. They were riotous and extremely friendly neighbors. Some spoke better English than others, but we all speak survival out here so we understood each other well enough. Most were experienced Burners, and we quickly became friends.
Some of my camping equipment/clothing is imported from Germany including my tent. So I asked them how to properly say the brand names. They made fun of my German pronunciation, and compared it to a certain dictator.
I learned a lot more about German culture/language from these folks than I did during my visit to Octoberfest in 2019. I can now proficiently swear in German, and even know a few other helpful words.
After a night of partying hard with the Germans. OK in retrospect this is a bit weird, and ominous.
Darude Sandstorm:
Sandstorms are pretty common at Burning Man. Generally they don't always last long, but this year was my first experience with hours long white out conditions complete with dust devils/mini tornados.
You need to hunker down and seek refuge. For me that meant sitting in the camp shade structure and taking a nap while this dust filled nightmare washed over me.
At one point the storm got so bad, and was lasting so long that we weren't sure they'd even be able to burn The Man. The winds alone would cause a serious safety hazard. Eventually things died down and people crept out of their hidey holes to enjoy the rest of the evening.
At another point me and our small group got caught in a severe dust storm while visiting the Temple. Again my Burning Man Jedi campmate, and friend Sway got us back to civilization through shear use of the Force alone because he's basically a master at this.
Serendipity:
There's a lot of things I plan to do in the desert. I accomplish maybe a fraction of them.
When my friend Dan passed away I floated through a couple days completely out of it for a bit. After his funeral I went to a local pub for a meal, a lot of beer, and some people watching. That's when I noticed a variety of very colorful individuals bustle in, dominating the space next to me.
These were runners. As one, I could tell. Bright clothes, sweat, and the eagerness to get liquid bread into their bellies. So I figured I could reach out and talk to them.
"This looks like a running club if I ever saw one." I said.
Now here's the thing about every running club ever. They all have the same joke. It's how you identify one of your own. A person quickly turned to me and said:
"More like a drinking club with a running problem!" *cue badaboom ching drum roll*
Then I heard talk of tickets and the playa. Not only were these people runners, but Burner runners! I was quickly adopted by the pack.
This happens to me a lot more than you'd expect. I was raised an only child. I have no issues doing things on my own, and often times even prefer it. I live a very solitary life. Hell my first Burn I knew no one. I just felt passionate about it, and wanted to experience it for myself. But when survival is at stake you learn you are often never alone, and a pack mentality takes over.
I spent the entire evening late into the night with these good strangers, and found that some of them lived just down the street from me. We exchanged information in hope that even if I don't regularly run with them I might find them out on the playa.
Because serendipity runs high in this strange land I was able to reconnect with some of these folks. It felt strange seeing these people who are essentially my neighbors in the real world out in this setting, but I'm so glad I was able to run into them again.
Sláva Ukrayíni!
The Man Burn:
I’m usually running on fumes around this time, and this year even more so. I had just visited the statue one last time at the Temple to drop off written notes to my friend Dan and my Dad who by now I had found out passed away. I just wasn’t in the mood to party or take pictures.
The Temple Burn:
It begins as soon as the sun sets.
This is was the end of the road. What I came here to do. A lot of the people I knew had left at this point to beat the traffic (more on that later). We had collapsed camp, and I was eating dinner and staying with my new German friends.
Listen to how quiet it is.
By dusk I wished them well, warned them that I was going to be a completely inconsolable mess, and headed out to grab a spot for the Temple burn early. I joined the circle around the combustible structure front and center.
I watched everything slowly burn down to embers. I heard and participated in the howls of all those involved forming a woeful minor key. All those who have suffered loss. All those who came here to complete some sort of mourning ritual. It was cathartic. It was exactly what I needed at the time.
I lost a father.
I lost a friend.
I lost a cat.
I found peace.
It's been a long time since I channeled so much energy and effort into something. It felt good to finally let it go. I'm still mourning. I'm still crying. But I feel better having gone through this process, and the shared experience. There is more to process. More to feel. It's heavy. Extremally heavy. But I can't imagine who I'd be if I did not come here and do all this.
Thank you to everyone who supported me in this journey, and to those who I only exist by the grace of their support today.
Random Musings:
Oh man this one really hit home.
A friend of mine worked on this project. Unbound: a house entirely made of books.
Safety 3rd on a Tuesday.
I don't know what kind of donuts these Canadians were serving.
A lot of people don't know that Smokey the Bear is a freak in real life. Yes that's a pool full of rubber chickens behind him. Like I said, FREAK.
Gate Worker: Is that all you brought?
Me: A few bags and a prayer, same as always.
Gate Worker: You think you brought enough whiskey to make it through this event?
Me: This is not my first rodeo, sir. Trust I have booze.
“You and your girlfriend were just so helpful.” - This came from a tiny young Turkish woman who admitted that maybe she "just wasn’t built for this event” which is OK because this experience isn’t for everyone. So some of the folks in the neighborhood, and I wanted to help her out along the way especially during the sandstorms. The "girlfriend" she's referring to does give me a kiss on the cheek before leaving camp, and regularly calls me “Babe”, but that could mean anything out here... Look I have self esteem issues, and I didn't correct her because I just felt flattered as all hell she assumed I was dating a woman that attractive, let alone 15 years younger than me.
If you ever have to ask yourself: "Is having my ass massaged by a car buffer something I need to check off my list?" The answer is yes. Yes. Just go ahead and do it. Trust me.
Time means nothing out here, and you never know what you're going to find at any hour. I once took a nap at midnight and woke up at 2AM. I got up and cruised around the neighborhood until I found a bar that was specifically only open from 2AM till early morning. It was a wonderful bar where everyone had a story to tell. One woman was offering free tattoos, but only if they were either a butterfly or a dinosaur. I had to think to myself "Do I need a butterfly?", and decided to stop myself because no good decisions were ever made at this hour. Oh and I'm pretty sure I forgot my drinking cup there. In my defense half the bar was topless so I was a bit distracted.
New Friend: Whoa you really are Kathmandu!
Me (in my glorious cat onesie): Yes, I know.
“Wait who’s Keith?” - Whenever someone actually uses my real name on playa. There’s plenty of people out there that only know me as Kathmandu or just Kat. It really hasn't been a transition for me.
“If you want to go full dark Keith, just go full dark Keith man” - My campmate referring to my need to switch into a night time outfit so I can explore and ride around the playa on the first night.
“In case the night takes you…” - This is a phrase I want to make more common if it's not understood already. This is the phenomenon of saying "I'll be right back", but then ending up on some sort of crazy adventure that leaves you somewhere in a strange place the next morning.
Her: Can you take a picture of my tits?
Me: I would dedicate my life to painting a tasteful oil portrait of your tits worthy of hanging in the Louvre if you asked me to.
"Do you want something cat related, or something that sparkles?" - Me offering my friend a hoodie as it grew colder at nightfall. He chose sparkles, and was going to swing by sometime the next day to return it, but everyone's plans got crushed by a 5 hour sandstorm. Rather than mailing it back I just told him to hang on to it until next year when we're both back at it again.
"Do you want something cat related, or something that sparkles?" - Me offering my friend a hoodie as it grew colder at nightfall. He chose sparkles, and was going to swing by sometime the next day to return it, but everyone's plans got crushed by a 5 hour sandstorm. Rather than mailing it back I just told him to hang on to it until next year when we're both back at it again.
"Wait I'm getting confused. Accent. No accent. Accent. No accent." - When people meet my counterpart from Boston. A friend that grew up in the same suburb as me, same grade, and went through the same school system, yet he sounds like Matt Daimon from Good Will Hunting turned up to 11, and I do not.
Her: So what part of California are you from again?
Me: The part that lives in Boston.
(again my accent)
Bartender: I am never going to use this stupid bullshit.
Me: Here let me give you some more stupid bullshit.
Burning Man runs on a "gifting" economy. That means you freely give something to people in order to keep the exchange going. A lot of time the gifts are cute. Sometimes they're useful like: food, beverages, lip balm etc. But to said bartender's point most times they are absolutely useless trinkets. I've got about a dozen stickers, some beads, and a few ring pops for example. To carry my cat theme I often hand out little plastic cat figurines. But during the day I can take their picture with my weird little baby camera. It was developed by a Korean company that specializes in being "child's first" technology, and I figured if it could survive a toddler it could survive the desert. It's a brutally simple 10 mega pixel camera with a thermal printer built in. That means I can print pictures on receipt paper with no ink for pennies on the dollar like a CVS. With this camera I was able to hand out black and white stickers of people's photos. Everyone got a huge kick out of it, and didn't feel like "stupid bullshit" as the bartender mentioned.
Admittedly I did do some decorating of it to make it look less like a toddler camera and more like a psychopath painted it.
I painted a crude picture of a cat on an open canvas. Later I saw how people filled in and augmented said cat.
This is Tony the Tiger. He's a decorative backpack that I put on the front of my bike for storage. It's constructed from a very firm styrofoam, and fake fur. It works a hell of a lot better than having things rattle around in a front bike basket. Next year I plan to drill holes in the eyes and put flash lights in to use as headlights. Just imagine this bastard coming straight at you, eyes glowing in the middle of the night at O'dark thirty.
My god NFTs are everywhere!
My god Shen Yun is everywhere!
(This picture was taken inside of a porta-potty and their aggressive marketing is a bit of an in joke to theater kids)
(This picture was taken inside of a porta-potty and their aggressive marketing is a bit of an in joke to theater kids)
From what I understand this was made in protest of how much it costs to do laundry. It's mostly composed of old washing machines.
Giant ass laser pointed at a mountain in case you couldn't find the fucking mountain.
This is more my speed.
The Man was pretty low key this year.
Big kitty skull.
Shit, Are you guys seeing the cat too? I think somebody spiked my kombucha.
Geoffrey the Giraffe became a mere ghost of himself after Toys 'R' Us went out of business. Good to see him working again.
Same picture, just after the edibles kicked in.
Death Guild really leans in to the whole Mad Max theme if you didn't notice.
Hey kids look there's Big Ben, Parliament, Thunder Dome.
The final night I did something I'd never done before. I put my own music on in my headphones and just roamed the city like a mad man at full speed on my bike like a fucking maniac. When in the desert you usually want all of your senses at full alert so I never break out the headphones. This moment? I needed this. Next time I promise to break out the GoPro to record my manic travels.
I feel I'm less muted and more "me" out there than the "me" I'm allowed to be in real life. I am maximum "me" as soon as I'm allowed through the gate. Imagine a city that each time you visit you get to be Batman, but you have to be some stick in the mud the rest of your time at "home" dealing with some Bruce Wayne bullshit. I'm going to allow myself to be Batman more in real life. I'm sorry if none of this paragraph made sense. I'm a nerd, and it helps me to make comic book references in order to explain how I feel.
I think this opened an old wound I didn’t know I was suffering from post COVID apocalypse, and that is as an empathetic person I am completely starved for other's emotions, especially affection. It turns me into some sort of emotional vampire. An Emophage who watches other people cry during YouTube reaction videos just so I can try to absorb what they're feeling.
I think this opened an old wound I didn’t know I was suffering from post COVID apocalypse, and that is as an empathetic person I am completely starved for other's emotions, especially affection. It turns me into some sort of emotional vampire. An Emophage who watches other people cry during YouTube reaction videos just so I can try to absorb what they're feeling.
I have never felt more supported in my life. Being at Burning Man I was showered with more affection from new friends and strangers than I ever have in the past 3 years. That said I need to decompress. I’m weird and lonely by choice and design.
Look I'm not really good at all this metaphysical bullshit. So each time another half naked woman comments about how much she loves my energy out on the dance floor I'm just going to take it as a win even if I don't understand it.
I'm risk adverse. I even bought the special Burning Man $50 medvac insurance this round in case I needed an expensive helicopter ride to a hospital in Reno (I know I'm an unreliable narrator sometimes, but I'm not joking that this is an option that absolutely exists for all participants). In the end the most dangerous thing I did out there was eat BBQ knowing that the woman preparing it had a really janky solar powered refrigerator setup. Definitely rolled the dice on that one. Safety 3rd.
Investments Must Be Made:
It's not getting any cheaper to vacation like a sand hermit. Next year is going to be about establishing more of a presence on the west coast. Be it some sort of storage unit, or a means where I ship things to friends. I've even been debating traveling out of San Francisco next time rather than Reno.
As a sign of the times in the past I've swallowed a $300 cleaning fee for my rental car on top of what I already paid for the week. This round it was $250 for the exterior, and another $250 on top of that just for the interior. I'll need to find a way to mitigate things like this even if it means taking the bus.
This is the year that cemented this as my vacation thing now. I'm all in. Some people choose Hawaii, or Disney vacations. I choose the badlands.
Locomotion on playa is also both a literal and figurative pain in the ass. I'd feel helpless with out a bike, but man the roads were rough this year. eBikes are gaining a lot of hate out in the desert but I'll be damned if not pedaling my ass everywhere would be more convenient. Even if it's just an "assisted" ride I think it be worth it.
Exodus:
Because so many people stayed late for the Temple burn traffic the next morning was so horrendous that the pictures have gone viral. 6 hours... I spent 6 fucking hours in traffic, and I was lucky. You think I'd be used to it given Massachusetts's affinity for building stadiums on 2 lane highways, but no. The only reason I didn't run out of gas (that 6 hours doesn't include the extra 2 hours to get to Reno) was because I breezed through the gate entry so quickly at the beginning of the event, and I shelled out for a more fuel economic rental car. Even so I was pushing "E" by the time I got to civilization.
A lot of people shut their engines off, but then you have to deal with no AC and triple digit heat. This miserable thing is part of the process, and a necessary evil as part of the event. See all those lanes? Now imagine eventually funneling that onto one narrow strip of road.
Conclusion:
After three years this obviously wasn't what I was anticipating when I was eager to revisit the desert in 2020. I wanted everything to be bigger. I wanted everything to be louder, more magnificent. I wanted to do strange things out in the desert with strange people getting dust in strange places as it were.
That obviously didn't happen.
But I built a cat. A cat that was the personification of loss for me. It started out as only a meaningful offer to a cherished pet, but it eventually evolved a solemn golem of my overall grief. I poured all my agonizing energy into this vessel over the course of 3 months. Then watched as it was cathartically set ablaze.
The full weight of my father’s death didn’t hit me until the funeral. All the mourning that I thought I had processed turned out only to be the tip of the iceberg.
I don't know what the coming years will bring. I only hope for brighter and better things. Hotter days shared with people I care about in a barren wasteland. The more time I'm out there the stronger I become, the more friends I gain, year over year, the more my support structure grows.
This might not have been the Burn I wanted, or even was expecting. But regardless, it might have been the Burn I needed right now.
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