| 2003: Click for 2003 images What I did on my summer vacation or Burning Man 2003 Hello, after writing up a day by day account of my vacation I realized, while I had heaps and heaps of fun, most of what I did was rather uneventful, or so based in situations that make sense only at the event or need some explanation. Also certain events are still unclear in the order that they happened… So to resolve my dilemma I have written a less time oriented and more highlights and what I felt about it… This year’s summer vacation was wonderful, unusual in its planning and execution. But everything worked out very well despite many changes along the way. Overall I did not want to take my bus (sold it!) or be as responsible for others. I flew to San Francisco alone; I would ride up and back with T-Girrl, and stay in a RV. Along the way I was able to sell my BM tickets (I got 2 early in the year) to Fernando and Leda, for my cost and did my best to find a way to transport T-Girrl’s Duck, duck, duck (a lovely Golf-cart rubber duck looking art car) to the event but with no luck. T-Girrl was so generous with her hospitality and her SOMA home was conveniently located near BART and several other places I needed to go. I was able to connect up with a BM camp-mate/friend Kevin B. at an art opening, and met Kal Spelletich of SEEMAN; tried out his latest creation and saw some other lovely mechanical art. ‘Monkey on your back’ (see it here, and here) is a backpack mounted interactive sculpture; it has a tail and spine that senses you heartbeat and moves accordingly. Wing like arms that swing as you move side to side, and independently Waldo’ed arms, that move horizontally, vertical and have grasping hands, fantastic stuff. SEEMAN also make great interactive fire art that is too difficult for me to describe. Then went to a fine dinner with another friend that I had not seen for 6 years, Lisa S., wow, was that a lot of catching up. Friday was spent running errands with T-girrl then Maxbunshaft took me around to the Shipyard where I did a little to help them get ready for the burn but mostly just hung around trying to stay out of the way. It was good to finally meet Jim M, and some of the crew in person. Then we went to the Cataclysmic Megashear Ranch Studios. Max has his shop there with a heap of other wacky artists, the CMR is always a blast to hang at, lots of stuff to see and learn about from great multitalented persons. I also was introduced to Indian Pizza; it was a lovely Curry chicken, Yum We were interrupted in our trip to BM by clutch failure, so we rented a van and on Sunday afternoon, we met up with Carl, in Gerlach, made plans for meeting the next day for work, and got some water. On arrival at Black Rock City we were able to find The Lost Temple of Water Boy, T-Girls camp, with no trouble, and helped set up.. This year I noticed something, the more of you need to get somewhere at a certain time or have a mission that is time related at BM the more interruption you will encounter. On my way to the Department of Public Works headquarters, to meet Carl. I ran into, Mushuggina, on BRTA, then immediately come across Jade. But they were all headed the opposite direction, so I continued on my way. The DPW sets up the city, laying out the streets and building the infrastructure. (Center camp, the Commissary, and other public areas.) They also stay after to clean up the mess left by 30,000+ partiers. It is located outside the city, along with the Airport, Sheriff department, Port-a-John, Emergency Services, and Main Gate. Carl C. (Megashear) gave me a ticket in trade for my help; I would be working for him and the DPW for a few days during the event. I ended up picking up traffic cones around BRC with GameShowHost, mowing the lawn of the main office in Gerlach and taking nap in the swamp-coolered air of Carl’s house after lubing its fan among other things. We went into Gerlach several times to ovoid the frequent afternoon whiteout dust storms. Latter that day, I was able to retrieve my bike and things (my Obnoxicator-Helm, along with some other toys) that, Bill the Swami had brought with him to the VW camp. He did a superb job of transporting my silly art bike ‘spot’. It was nice to find another familiar person out there; I was trying to find TradeMarks camp; the Flaming Cunts, it was nearby some ware, I just could not find it. Tuesday morning I found my RV and met my Campmates. I went out to the airport and was able to get a ride on BRTA the Black Rock Travel Agency truck. This truck has been to more burns than most attendees; it’s a full size pick-up with toys and stuff glued all over it. We toured the city and art instillations on the Playa, dropping off some people who had flown in along the way. Gathering my luggage and some ice as we went. It is fascinating to watch the city grow and change, landmarks come and go, camps evolve and street signs start disappearing right after the burn. Wednesday we drove around in Headhunters DPW Bronco, Carl and I had our Obnoxicator Helmets on and Jewel had T-Girls classic, several other people joined in the ruckus. We drove up and down every street in the city greeting, welcoming and telling people how much we loved them. We also gave positive comments and made Public Service Announcements. Eventually we ended up at the main gate and Playa entrance from the HWY, directing traffic and greeting! Man that was quite the tour of BRC! I searched for TM and the camp we were scheduled to perform at that night but could not find either of them. I was bummed for having let him/then down but could do nothing about it. But I did find some other Columbus people; Johnny G. (Jon Griffith) and Zeus (Eric Myers) who runs the BRC information radio station. (There are many pirate radio stations in BRC) They were camped with the Pizza Sluts, (a few blocks away from my RV) who randomly deliver delicious pizza to unsuspecting camps. There I met the lovely Apples, and had fun riding around looking at Art with them all night. One of the most memorable was Kiki’s fountain, ’Egeria‘ a town square size installation with three levels. It stands about 12” tall; water and flame pour from its spouts. The truly amazing part is you can pick up and play with the fire. Hold it in your hands; let it trickle through your fingers. Another interesting installation was made up of 8 1000W speaker stacks set in a circle. The sound was computer controlled so the Bass could come from any stack at any time. They would make the pounding techno beat come at you from all sides and it was dizzying. Large ‘Rave’ type camps are common, it seems that music is coming from everywhere all the time… And such a huge verity to chouse from or be annoyed by, day or night, people around or not. I wandered around most of the day looking at art and missing people in their camps, I was able to drop off T-Girrls Obnoxicator, and eventually I found Proclamation camp, and Kyla D. lead me to TM!! It was 45 min before our next scheduled performance, what timing on my part. So On to Gigsville and performing Cheese and Pants Theater. We had some stiff competition with an open stage strip club and Canadian Beaver-eating contest across the street. Never the less we were still able to get around 50 persons with longer attention spans to watch and enjoy us. It was good to perform in a more traditional atmosphere, on stage instead of just yelling stuff from the back of cars… Not that that isn’t fun also! The amount of sexually oriented things seems to keep increasing at BM; Seminars on Tartaric massage, instructional conferences on Female ejaculation, open stage strip clubs, Speed-dating services, cunnulingus competitions, ‘bathhouse’ camps and such. Maybe I just noticed it more this year. Don’t get me wrong I think its great, but it leads to this heightened sexual atmosphere that some people cannot deal with and start to act inappropriately. Like the gawking tourists, leering dirty old men, ass-grabbing frat boys, Knock-out drug Date-rapiers, sexual predators and so on.. Yes there are boatloads of wonderful, sensitive, caring men out there also. Many of them worthy of the attention and affection bestowed by our Playa goddesses, it just seems that the Yahoos get noticed, good or bad. I am not complaining, I have had several wonderful Playa “hook ups”, but usually during the event my sex drive is off. (Rather unlike me.) I know a few other people who are like this. I also know some that BM turns them to almost nymphomania. I thought this was a Fire Art festival…. Carl had things to do in Gerlach so he set me to unloading his trailer (it was full of rebar, plywood, other lumber and trash from around the Man.) and told me not to let the van run out of gas on the other side of town. So I empted the trailer and dropped it off at the airport, then drove into BRC in a DPW vehicle on a surreptitious trash run. What’s the big deal, you ask? Well its twofold, first the DPW can go anywhere in the festival at any time. Car traffic is not allowed in some places and discouraged in general. The art cars have different levels of access, some are day only, others only allowed in certain areas due to size or whatever. Also Art Cars are supposed to give rides to attendees, like a cab or bus, not so with the DPW. Second, trash is a big deal, if you cannot burn it you must pack it out with you; so getting you trash taken out by someone else is rather nice. I started my slow crawl around town, 5-7mph averages, 10 is max speed, and everyone else has right of way. I got my RV’s trash, then picked up Johnny G. and his camps trash. We cruised by the Man, picked up Waterboy’s, and T-Girl’s trash (Mostly came for hers, since she loaned out her Obnoxicator to the DPW) and then on to Flaming Cunts, to help appease my earlier lack of presence for performance. Then a slow ride back to the DPW to dump the rapidly stinking waste. On the way back into town to intercept the fuel truck, I got ensnared in the Critical Tits parade. How can you complain about 100’s of naked breasts proceeding before your windscreen? I never got gas, I did not care… Its more of the when on a time related mission, the more important that you be on time, the more interruption there will be… Something to love about BM is the Playa time concept. Things happen when they happen, you cannot force things and just going with the flow is always the best course of action. The question; ‘What time is it?’ becomes rather unimportant. At some point I ran into my roommate, Fernando in his camp, the BRC Post office. Friday night I did my best to get drunk on Tequila while hanging out with Johnny G and Mandy. I was dressed up like rabbet, a white jumpsuit with fuzzy tail, ½ mask, and large plastic carrot. We ended up going to Thunderdome to watch the DPW fight the Lamplighters. I looked for other animals to fight but I could only find a Whookiee (yes from Star Wars) and a chicken. The Whookiee did not want to ‘Mess up his costume’ and the chicken was, just chicken….. No fights for me that night, I took to darting if front of vehicles, in an unpredictable manner. Making sure the driver saw that I was dressed like a rabbet.. Saturday I was hanging out at the DPW when I found out about the Woman who was run over by the art car trailer. That was sad, senseless thing. If you want to know more about it I can tell you in person or send you some links. That afternoon I rode in the DPW parade on the crane-flatbed, same one as I road last year, having fun, soliciting beer and whatever we could with our obnoxi-helms. I went to the Burn with the Waterboy camp, we got good seating down in front. The burn was wonderful, quite the pyrotechnic show, with the Neon and fireworks, then the dust devils and tornados of flame that were produced. It was amazing. So was the man made Fire Tornado Device: Twelve industrial fans set in a circle. All blowing around a central burner, this thing ran on propane and some other gasses. It was only about 12’ tall that night due to the wind, someone said it could go 30’ tall, and was about 2.5’ wide. After that we wondered around and eventually got on Teiwaz’s Art car, (The Slug). It is a huge, 2story-rolling artcarbar. The lower level has a bar and sound system, the upper floor has shade and nice lounging area. While we were hanging out up there another attendee who was passed out when we arrived, got up and attempted to climb overboard. Fortunately Waterboy and T-Girl grabbed him preventing another senseless accident. He would have fallen 10’-12’ onto very hard ground. I Spent Sunday moving my stuff back to Waterboy’s camp, and burnt some clothing along the way. I bring my old clothing to the event and after wearing them for several days it’s easier to just burn them, along with a work outfit. It’s rather liberating to burn your clothing, especially work uniforms. That night I went to the Temple Burn, It was nice, less yahoos and frivolity, a more serious event, respectful and honorable. A good way to say farewell to dead friends. Afterwards we watched some sound and fire sculpture then we went back to camp, had drinks and got our Obnoixicaters. We had four of them and proceeded to wander the Playa looking for art-cars or drum circles to play with. We stopped at one point for T-Girl to do some Poi (fire-spinning) and eventually ended up in center camp where we jammed out and got applause from the crowd. That was rather fulfilling, and unexpected. If you would like to read another version of that night try here. Monday was spent packing and disassembling the camp. I also was able to run around and say goodbye to a few friends before the long, hot and slow drive from the event to Reno. Where we got a lovely room with a hot tub at the Peppermill. After eating an expensive stake dinner we filled the tub and watched ‘A Mighty Wind’. What a lovely way to end the day… Tuesday was an uneventful ride home and a comprehensive cleaning of the van. That night I went and saw my old friend Lisa again and, flew home in the morning. It was nice to be back home, able to sleep in my big bed undisturbed…. So what did I do on my summer vacation? Had a lot of fun!! Preformed some, experienced new things, made friends and learned things also. What will I do now? I am unsure, but that has little to do with Burning Man, My lovely Apartment and Studio are in contract and I do not know what the new owners have in mind. Also my job at re:Art & More is coming to an end and I do not know if I will continue to work for S.W.A.C.O. Both will end around the end of the year, so I may move. I would goto to S.F., or the Northwestern coast, possibly Canada, or I might just run away to New Zealand and see how long it takes them to kick me out. So I am looking to sell some stuff, finish a few projects, and start packing & disassembling my studio, and apartment. So I you have had your Eye on anything of mine, ask, you might be able to have it!! And if you are interested in ‘Hosting’ one of my fish tanks or other sculptures or know anyone who might be have them contact me. ---------------------------------------------------- Leigh Baker wrote the following, and is from an e-mail she posted to the WaterBoy list after the event. I have included it in my stories because, well she describes the evening better than I did and her perspective is wonderful. It Is so difficult to recount and convey the experiences of BM, often another point of view is helpful to better understand the event. Thank you Leigh for sharing your observations and feelings. ----------------------------------------------------- Wednesday, October 01, 2003 Hi, everybody. This is a part of my Burning Man journal. Patrick loved it and Jenny said I should post it online for you guys to read because she thought you'd enjoy it, so here it is. It's about Sunday night/early Monday morning. I lit my torch at one of the community burn platforms and then we started a slow trek across the darkness of the playa. Christian played eerie organ-sounding chords that trailed off at the end and echoed, or faded in & out repeatedly like a pulsating orange light inside a furnace. And he made a coarse buzzing noise like a plane or a giant fly. T Girl made squeaky noises that sometimes sounded like whales and other times sounded like crying ghosts that were out of breath. "This is not a test. In fact, it's a goddam f*cking emergency." Somehow she was able to make echoing clicking noises that sounded like either bubbles or bones knocking together. Gary made announcements like "Attention! It is now 76 degrees," and, "Warning! This is a test. How many legs does an insect have? a.6 b.8 c.10 or d. none of the above. Thank you for your cooperation in this year's Burning Man celebration. Go home!" Then after a pause, almost like an afterthought, "Doctor?" Doctor echoed about 15 times, getting louder & quieter. His megaphone was also able to make squeaky radio frequency type noises that made me think of isolation in the middle of dark nowhere. And he let out a nice juicy burp that he repeated over & over slowed down & sped up. "Stay calm, and go home." Patrick's voice was distorted so that it sounded like it was 10 octaves lower like the wet, burpy growl of some huge languid sewer creature. He said scary things like "This is the end" and of course the amusing "Bluh" and laughed an excellent evil-sounding Dracula laugh, but my favorite thing he did was Buddhist monk chanting. He also spilled some of his poems. They sounded interesting in his evil deep voice. "I know what I know 'cause my TV tells me so." My torch lit the way like the light on the front of a submarine, and the playa looked like the bottom of the ocean, lifeless and flat. Hulks of ill-defined objects covered in dust slowly came into view as we approached them. One of them was a bike, but that's the only thing I could identify. It also felt like Gran & Grandaddy's attic, sort of, which I remember was always as dusty as the playa. I felt like we were wandering through a huge, gigantic attic. After a while everyone was so into what they were doing - no more talking, just creative noisemaking - that it was like they were in a trance, and soon I was in a trance too. I just couldn't talk. It was nearly impossible. We passed by the ball of fire hanging from the line, and as it swung out around the pole, with blue flame dripping from it, the light made our shadows twirl. Huge random bursts of flame lit up the night, creating brief heat and shadows, and the worship-able Draca warmed us all with its breath. T Girl spun some fire and I felt like she was performing a blessing ritual on us. My torch died, and I was kinda sad at first, but then I realized how appropriate the symbolism of it was and felt totally satisfied. I decided not to relight it like I'd been planning. I was in such a trance that when we passed people I couldn't do anything but look at them with a lifeless, foreboding expression on my face. As I passed one particular guy he just looked back at me, his steadiness of gaze and eye contact matching mine, and just as he passed out of my range of vision I thought I heard him say quietly, "Thank you." The brash harmony of a train horn blasted out of the night, source unknown. And the gong of the Chinese bells floated out of the darkness, matching the desolate mood of the sounds we were making and completing the balance nicely, I thought. I wanted to go make them ring more, because whoever was ringing them stopped, but my group wasn't wandering in that direction. I couldn't possibly see where the bells were anyway. Patrick asked me a question, but I was deeper in my trance than ever and trying to talk to him was like trying to respond to a nurse through a Vicoden overdose. The death of Burning Man had me fully in its grip, I was caught in the current of energy flowing into the ground, sinking sinking, going deeper deeper deeeeper into sleep, hibernation, death of sorts. I merged with the death. I WAS the death. But when he asked, "Are you ignoring me?" I was able to snap out of it enough to say, "No!" and explained in labored speech, "Can't talk. Tell you about it later." Patrick asked me if I was okay and I said with awe, "I'm more okay than I've ever been." When some people came up to us and asked us where the port-o-potties were, it was like a slap in the face; I just couldn't understand how they could not be in as much of a trance as we were. I was kind of surprised Patrick was able to talk to them at all. Nice imagery gem: T Girl's echoing voice matched the green laser disappearing into space above her. The stars were a hundred billion pinpricks. Gary: "Attention citizens of Black Rock City: The party is over. Please exit in an orderly fashion. Remain calm. Thank you for your participation. Please go home! Take everything with you. Wash your hair and use extra conditioner. Fix your playa foot. Heal your mind. You cannot possibly have any more fun than you already have had. Your brain is completely depleted of serotonin. Go the f*ck home. Please stand by. Has anyone seen my glow stick?" We saw a fire in the distance that didn't look like it was meant to be there. As we got closer we saw that it was a Death Guild car. Appropriate. The only art car I'd want to see burning. Near Center Camp a few people stopped to listen to us, and when we paused for a second they all clapped, which was kinda cool. Then we started right back up again. The Draco came up really close to us and I could've gotten a really good picture of it, but I felt like that would've interrupted the entire flow of the experience, like carelessly breathing while looking at a perfectly straight column of smoke up close, so I didn't. When we got to Imagined Street everyone headed home, but I was distracted by the burn platform and went to the flame helplessly like a moth. I sat by the heat while Patrick went back to camp to drop off his distortion machine thingey and I just basked in the wonder of the experience I'd just had and was still having. Words were near impossible to speak, but I was able to form them in my mind and plan how I'd use them to describe my experience. When Patrick got back I said, "Have to talk to you," and did my best. I couldn't say more than sentence fragments, so I sounded like an imbecile, but for the first time I truly understood what Lesson 11 was talking about. Words interfere with profound experiences, which are experiences of God, no matter what they might be. In order to formulate words, you have to crank up the mind, and you can't have a direct experience of God if you don't turn the mind off completely because it just gets in the way. But I was able say a few words - as few as possible, no more than necessary - to explain to Patrick what I was going through. The following words on this page don't convey the experience accurately because you'll probably read it faster than it actually happened, but oh well, whatever, just try to read it sloth speed because that's how fast I was talking. "Profound experience. Weeklong culmination. Didn't realize until tonight how profound this week has been. Words not possible. Gift from God. Feel so blessed. Doesn't happen every day. HAVE to meditate. Be still. To show my respect. Reverence. Awe. Thankfulness for it all. I knew I was a sponge, but I didn't realize how big my holes are." Patrick gave me a loving squeeze. After a pause: "dusty playa lifeless & flat like the bottom of the ocean "hulks of ill-defined objects appearing from the darkness, like bikes covered in dust "ball of fire on line swinging on pole made our shadows twirl "drops of blue flame dripped from it "huge bursts of flame lighting up the night and creating brief heat & shadows "worshippable dragon warming us all with its breath "T Girl's echoing voice matching the green laser disappearing into space above her "death Guild car on fire." Patrick held me close and sighed, "That's a poem. You have a lot to say. You should write that down. That's poetry." And that moment felt triumphant. I DO have poetry in me, I've had it all along, I just didn't know it because what I have I've never labeled as "poetry." But tonight someone else labeled it as poetry, and that means the world to me. I have my own form of "poetry." Words not possible to describe the way I felt. Direct experience of the Self at that moment. So happy. I said, "Love you." I decided to continued to speak in fragments and it was really enjoyable because my mind was a lot less cluttered that way. Sometimes I stutter because I trying too hard to get an idea out too fast, but this way I totally thought the idea out before saying it and then said it in as few words as possible so no words were wasted. It makes me want to talk that way all the time. I sounded kinda like Yoda. I really wanted to sleep by the fire and be awakened by the dawn, but Patrick pointed out that some pretty toxic stuff was burning, so I agreed to go back to the tent. Kind of a blunt, unpoetic way to end a short essay about a profound experience, but hey, that's word for you. F*cking limited things, they are. Christian thanked me for my torch. |