Curious Places. Curiouser People

Welcome Back to the Land of the Living:

I awoke on a park bench in front of the great effigy of The Man wondering what series of bad decisions I made last night that lead me to this particular place at this particular time.  I try to rearrange the jigsaw puzzle in my mind.   I remember a huge party.   I remember a bar.  I remember making out with the woman with the wildly colorful hair.   I remember going to see The Man.   I remember getting separated from my group and my bike so in my infinite wisdom declared “That’s OK, I just live here now” and promptly passed out.  

A young woman in a frilly dress and white parasol approaches.  “This part of The Man gets a lot of sun in the morning.   So you might want to find someplace shadier if you still need to rest."  “Thanks” I manage to croak out.   “Let me know if you need anything” she says turning then literally skipping off in the opposite direction.  Curiouser and curiouser.   

Welcome Home.

I've woken up in stranger places.

Heavy:

I've been depressed lately, and my anxiety has been turned up to 11.  I don't know how both those things happen at the same time.  A state where you lack energy, but you can also be on edge all the time and twitchy as fuck.  I lost my job recently, and that's just added to the fun.  I debated briefly whether to put myself through Burning Man this year.  But the way out is through, and everything by this point was mostly paid for anyway.  Might as well lose myself in the moment and figure out the rest of the life stuff upon return.

The one thing I hadn't bought yet was my plane ticket.  So I decided to be frugal about it, and nothing says frugal more than Spirit Air.  Spirit Air's motto: Sit down, shut up, and maybe we'll get you there.  Normally this flight depending upon: airline, day, time, layovers, and phase of the moon can cost $700 -$1000+.  Spirit came in at $450 so I really couldn't argue.

The trade off is my layovers ranged from 6-8 hours or to RUUUUUUUUUNNN!  GET IN THE PLANE OR STRAP YOURSELF TO IT WE'RE TAKING OFF RIGHT NOW!  Cue Schwarzenegger screaming at you to "GET TO THE CHAPPAH!"

All things said I think Spirit gets a bad rap.  You get what you pay for here.  Which is to say: No TV or movies so you can entertain your damn self, no charging outlets so hope you brought a power bank to charge your shit, and everything little thing costs extra so no pretzels or half can of Diet Coke in a plastic cup for you.  That said the planes all felt relatively new/modern.  Whenever I fly United or Delta I get the sense that the plane is from the Triassic era, but they've just shoehorned a screen into the back of the seat ahead of you to keep your mind off the fact you're flying in a metal dinosaur.

A Gen Z woman on one of my flights didn't quite understand that.  First she didn't understand the concept of "Zones" on an airplane and had to be told to wait while she huffed.  This seems like a failure of the American public education system more than anything else.  I say less trigonometry, and more practical life stuff like knowing how to do your taxes, or board a plane properly.  I've never had a life/death situation where things came down to determining the length of the side of a fucking triangle.

Then when on board she asked where the charging station for her phone was, and got significantly upset when told to pound sand.  Lady this isn't "poor person pretending to be a rich princess airlines".  This is Spirit.  Sit down.  Huff less.  You could pay for this flight by breaking a jar of pennies.  They don't exactly give out heated towels and foot rubs here.  You're lucky your seat number didn't say "duct taped to the side of the plane".

Airports are one of the few places where it's socially acceptable to sleep in public, and I hate airports that don't account for that.  In Texas I had to sleep in a shitty chair during layovers rather than finding a decent place to flop down.  Also I was flying at odd hours so I couldn't even drink myself into unconsciousness.  The concept of time is so liquid at airports I don't understand why most things aren't just open 24 hours.  Once while traveling I asked an airport worker if there was a bar open where I could get a decent beer and a burger.  

Them:  Sir it's 8AM.

Me:  I've just been through 3 time zones.  Is it though?  Whatever, can a bro get a mimosa?

Lean and Mean on the Burner Express:

Look at all the peasants waiting while I cut the line and cruise in. 

The Burner Express is a bus service that can transport you to and from Burning Man directly from either the airport in Reno or San Francisco.  I should have explored this option a long time ago.

I had a terrible experience with renting a van last year.  Sure I had space and storage, but the bumper got a tiny scratch on it and they threaten to sue me.  Not to mention cleaning fees are $500+ now.  I imagine a lot of these rental car companies are hurting since the pandemic and they're now looking for their pound of flesh because no one was traveling.

The Burner Express was fast, convenient, and a hell of a lot cheaper than renting a car and inevitably paying hundreds of dollars to clean it.  I arrived to my departure time early, and so did everyone else.  We hit the ground running a half hour ahead because everyone had their shit together.

The greatest benefit to the bus is you skip the line during entry and exodus.  I am never spending 6+ hours in line again.  More on that later.

I was traveling light.  I only had one bag and my backpack.  Everything else including my camping equipment and ebike was in a Boston shipping container waiting for me on playa.  Before I used to travel with: 2 bags, a personal item, and maybe even a carry on.  I'd rent a bike ahead of time to pickup/drop off which was sometimes complicated.  The benefit was I had all my stuff on me or near me at all times.  The downside is I'm only one person and I have to saddle all this shit and cart it around.  It got to be too much.  So this year I decided to pair things down to a minimum.  This being my 5th trip to the desert I've figured out what I need/don't need to survive now.  That said the list changes every year as I encounter new challenges.

The bus even included a shopping trip to a local supermarket so you could pick up: booze, food, and any other supplies you needed.  I can't take this crap back with me on the plane so this was the first time I perfectly planned all the things I needed without having to give away energy drinks to randos before I could get back on a plane.  I relied on my generous camp for all other means of sustenance.

As a New Englander I am fiercely proud.  We take radical self-reliance very seriously and generally don't like to rely on other people.  But make no mistake we are helpful.  We're just going to bitch about it while we assist you.  Not everyone, but many on the west coast will drive by you on the side of the road while you try to change a tire and wish you the best.  A New Englander will call you a dumbass but pull over to help you work the jack and insult your shitty choice of tires while they make an actual effort to get you back on the road. 

We are independant, cranky, but good hearted people.

That Said I Needed to Rely on my Camp More than Ever:

When it's 3AM and you're drunk off your tits.  Follow the blue light home.  Even some of our neighbors were very appreciative of using our camp as a beacon.

I am not part of what is called a theme camp or a formal camp.  We're in the open camping area.  So we show up in the suburbs with a loose idea of where we might be staying based on the people we know and the first come/first serve land we claim.

Over the years my camp has grown, shrunk, fractured, reformed, and grown bigger and more independent than we ever have before.  This time around we were about ~20+ people strong.  I'm including those who may have camped near us or seperate, but still hung out with us most of the time all the same.  We all had our own autonomy.  In other words you could setup your own space within the camp however you wanted.  We all had the real-estate, and the freedom to come and go as we pleased.

This is the first year a sand storm didn't knock his ass over.

Strange Days:

My adventures usually start as follows.  I point my bike in a general direction and just see what happens to me out there.  This time I did less exploring, less bar hopping, and even less art or music.  I was more content to just hang out at camp with all the wonderful characters that I only get to spend time with once a year.

Part of me wish I got out there more.  Went to more wild parties.  Saw more crazy things.  But my depression is a constant drain.  I found it better to hang back and center myself.  Regardless I was rarely alone.

I've said before in previous entries here "Sometimes you don't get the Burn you want, but you get the Burn you need".  Except for last year... The year trapped in mud can die in a fire, and anyone who tells you it was "the best year ever" needs their head examined.

The benefit of our informal camp is there are no shifts or expectations.  Yes sometimes a group of us would go out together to see/experience something, but there is no group think.  We all do what we want when we want out there.  Helping each other out, and sharing resources as we go along.  No care. No schedule.  It's more of a collection of free wills bouncing from person to person, adventure to adventure.

[A Pet's Love]:

The temple at Burning Man is a non denominal place of grieving.  Everything inside be it: tributes, pictures, personal messages, intimate art pieces, letters to loved ones lost, all gets cathartically burned down to the ground at the end of the event.

If you're suffering from loss it can be a refuge.  A place to meditate on, and celebrate lives now lost.  A place to find peace.

But a space so heavy with sorrow can often feel like you're trying to breath in a different atmosphere other than oxygen.  I usually can't spend more than 5 minutes inside without breaking down.  As someone who considers themselves an empath I try not to read the messages scrawled on the walls for fear of losing it, and bursting into tears.

Over the past few years I lost two of my cats to cancer.  I had them for over a decade.  They were my world.  I made statues of them before my trip to the desert, and placed them in the temple as a form of letting go.

Edward 2022

Jacob 2023

This year I had the idea to open up the tribute.  I wanted to make a generically animal shaped sculpture and allow people to write the names of their lost pets on it.  Originally my design was to make it at least 3 feet tall.  In reality I only had enough creative energy to make it a little over a foot.  But it's a start.

I put little bells on the Sharpies

It was fascinating to see it evolve over the week as people added more names to it.  I hope to continue this project each year I go improving upon the sculpture.  Making it larger and more prominent.  I want people to know how much these animals mean.

In this life I chose not to have children.  But this life also gave me cats.  My playa name is Kathmandu for a reason, and it's not because I've ever been to Nepal.  I love my boys.

Consensual Cuddling:

I met someone I found absolutely stunning.  She was tall.  Commanding in her height.  Possessing a strong independent attitude, unique style, and had a general air about her that was right in my wheelhouse.  True, this woman was also almost 2 decades younger than me.  But that part didn’t matter.  Her ethereal beauty came from elsewhere.

Now what would a goddess like that want with the likes of me?  I mean I should just be happy she’s even talking to me.  Because I know how this equation goes: 

(lack of confidence + wearing your heart on your sleeve + being way too honest) X (alcohol + arrogance) = stupid shit that comes out of your mouth that you call flirting.

Now I don’t know how the conversation started, but I complimented her on her height and style.  Only in the most *me* way possible.  Which is to say over-dramatically ramble at her like I’m workshopping the delivery of a Shakespearean soliloquy.  I think at one point I called her “the eighth wonder of the world”.

Once I was done with my little performance in a moment of clarity I thought:  Welp fucked that up pretty good, way to terrifier her…

To my surprise she took the compliment from this over the top lunatic gracefully, and with a couple of deep hugs mentioned that people back where she lives don’t always see her that way.

Now it’s time for the 😇angel vs 😈devil on the shoulder debate lightning round.

😇Angel:  Wow look!  You actually didn’t make it weird for once!  Take the win and change the subject.  You’re just an old creep compared to her. There’s no way you’re actually going to be able to touch her.

😈Devil:  PUSH! 👏 YOUR! 👏 LUCK!👏  -  PUSH!👏  YOUR!👏  LUCK!👏

Me:  Hey, let me know if you’d like to cuddle later.

😈Devil:  That’s… that’s it?  You shot your shot and the best you got is a line about cuddling?  Jesus, it’s like you have a master’s degree in how not to get laid.

Her:  *Goes into an explanation about how her current relationship status was recently a bit complicated, but that she's willing enough to be touched/held again*

Me:  Wait what?

😈Devil:  Wait what?

😇Angel:  Wait what?

So at this point I felt like the dog that caught the car.  I had built her up in my mind, and over-thought it so much that what the hell was I supposed to do with this much woman now?

In simple terms the stipulation was that we’d just keep it to friendly cuddles.  So while touch therapy is very sensual, it doesn’t always need to be sexual.  Basically even as someone who is often starved for affection and attention (despite my wild adventures) we could both appreciate that we were getting something out of this level of warmth and closeness.  Our time together contributed to a great week of fondness among other escapades.

No idea of I’ll ever see/hear from her again.  Sometimes you have an intimate engagement with someone once, and they drift out of your life in but a moment.  On the other hand, Burning Man does often have a way of keeping people connected together one way or another.  All part of the adventure.

Gallery and Random Musings:

Wooooooooo!

It's hard to see but someone brought a mechanical bull out here.

Sometimes you'll turn around and see some amazing art.  And sometimes just nothingness.

I don't think I'll ever get married, but I really liked this concept.

This scary ass thing.

Somebody brought a whole ass merry-go-round out here.

ARTAX NOOOOOO!!!!!  Too soon.  I still have childhood trauma from The Neverending Story

The serpent and the ship was easily the best art piece out on playa.  The detail on this thing was crazy.

This is exactly what you think it is.  From what I understand it tours the US in support of women's reproductive rights.

Love this bastard.

Exodus:

When all was said and done I lazily packed up my shit and realized that my bus schedule was a little too close for comfort to my flight time out.  They don't let you change times per say just put you on standby.

I figured there would be earlier slots on earlier buses.  After all there's got to be some hippie that overslept and missed their bus, as well as some college kid who thought they were only going to an EDM festival then promptly freaked out on day 2 when they realized there are no taco trucks and you could actually die out here.

College kid or hippie no, I wanted their damn seat.  Rumors were also swirling that a massive dust storm was going to hit in the afternoon.  Possibly crippling visibility and shutting down the gate.  So it was time to get out of Dodge.

I got to the bus station around 7:30AM and got myself a seat by 8:30AM without issue.  Plenty of time to kill for my flight in the afternoon.

What the Future Holds:

I needed this trip for my own sanity even if it felt like I was flying by the seat of my pants and waivered between being an anxious mess or low energy at times.  Part of me wants to maybe take a year off.  But the other just wants to live/survive out there like a feral cat with the people I love.

I don't know what's next.  But I'm grateful for all the connections I've made both new and old over the years.  These are my people.  Regardless I will always be a member of the Boston Burning Man community, and I'm not going to stop helping people cross the country to prepare for this event.  I've also even started attending the smaller more local Burns including Firefly in Vermont.  So stay tuned for that story soon enough.  Until then stay dusty.

Welcome Home.