Sunday, 17 September 2006
Bedraggled and half-drowned in emotion I was washed onto the shores of default reality last week. As I gathered enough strength to pull my near-carcass higher up the sands of life’s beach, I wept from exhaustion, jetlag, and sensory overload but mostly in appreciation of a new mystery ingredient. Its not a bad feeling just very weird. I think it is the feeling one has after gorging oneself on marrow from the bones of life.
I am talking of my experiences of going to the Burning Man Festival in Nevada and thus entering E4-B (you got to have known me to know). This mail is unashamedly positive, as was this experience for me. Of course there were dark moments and I will mention them but overall my time and effort was well rewarded and I hope the lessons learned of lasting value.
I cannot hope to do the experience credit with words and a few shots – in order to be understood this event must be witnessed. But as I owe god a death I believe I owe you all at least an attempt. And I want to because I care about all of you. And like to try to stay in touch through these mails no matter how eclectic it is or how much I expose my idiosyncratic view of the world to you. And it’s going to be long so get a cup of tea and take your time if you have it. I do not in any way mind if you are too busy to read this either. Some of you will and I hope some of you will like and enjoy it. I am quite certain I will cry again while I write this but that is ok, these are good tears in good times. I will not mention them again.
Prior to going to Burning Man (BM) I often felt that moving through life was like fighting through a dark tangled thorny thicket - slow and arduous. Sometimes the way would open up and be clear usually after such things as the vipassana course or an eclipse pilgrimage. Now, again, I feel like I have been shown a simple, palely lit pathway, soft underfoot, through the dense growth. I do not know where the pathway goes but it is inviting and calming. While writing that – part of me wonders if the easy path is the right path but that is the workings of a naturally suspicious and insecure mind having something really big at stake. For at stake is my life and who knows perhaps even my immortal soul (ha the stakes are high, not so?). I am quite certain that there are many paths through the thicket of life and this is just the one that has been revealed to me right now. I know also that I am going to take it. It is the only one in front of me and it is going my way. Only a fool would blindly scrabble their way through the rocks and thorns instead of such a clear opportunity. Or perhaps a clever bugger who REALLY knew what was going on...
This is clearly a metaphor – I still do not have a single specific goal in mind (who does?) - but it symbolises something I really do want - to be easy on myself. Not even to take the path of least resistance but rather the path of no resistance. I think the mood in my life of a simple green pathway is symbolic of the need to gently allow one’s life to happen. Of course it is also just a pathway and thus is useless to me UNLESS I do walk upon it. And while walking along it I will still have to carry my baggage. But who knows, this path may lead to a cool stream along which my baggage and I can float in a canoe and let life’s pleasures and pains drift by with even less of a care. No matter. I don’t expect it. And expectations are dangerous things – at best they offer motivation but normally they only provide for the opportunity to be disappointed. We all have had quite acceptable experiences reduced to disappointments because our hopes were too high.
I do not think it was BM alone that has allowed me to come to these realisations – it is the sum total of my life’s experiences – BM was however one helluva eye opening kick in the pants and a catalyst for change. As one cannot ‘unknow’ a thing so it feels like I have been shown another side to life. A side of life I always suspected existed. The side that was all the things I wanted to do but never let myself. This is not to say that right now I am now doing all these things – oh no, societies training and restrictions still hold me back but let’s say that I am in ‘recovery’ and getting better and better with every passing day at being myself as I want to be.
So back to expectations ... Burning Man was everything I expected but nothing I imagined.
As per the human condition of qualitative comparison I will now make a value judgement – My time spent at BM living in Camp Slaktoria (a Canadian matriarchy with a healthy dose of San Franciscans) must rank amongst the most joyous of my days.
Some (near) facts – BM takes place at Black Rock City (BRC) and lasts for 7 nights running Monday to Monday. It is on the ‘Playa’ at 4000 feet, which is a dried and super dusty lakebed north of Reno in the Nevada desert. It can be 40 degrees during the day and 5 at night. The dust is the finest I have ever encountered and sticks to you like paint. BRC is a circular city over a mile in diameter. In its centre is a vast open space and in the middle of that there is an effigy of a Man. BRC is purpose built every year just to host this event. For this week it is the 3rd largest city (39,000 souls) in the state of Nevada behind Reno and Las Vegas. You have to supply for all of your needs - food, water, shelter etc. There is almost no commerce. All you can buy are ice and tea/coffee in a communal centre-camp. The proceeds from these go either to the local communities of Empire and Gerlach or to pay the running costs of Centre Camp. In short the environment is very harsh. AS any city it has sanitation (port-a-potties) and things such as a post office. At least 4 daily newspapers get erratically distributed.
When you arrive at BM, there are 2 checkpoints – the first checks your ticket but at the second is a group of lovely volunteers. They are the ‘Greeters’. They talk to you, explain the very few rules, answer questions, give you your Black Rock City map, stickers and Events catalogue and make you feel good. Its just about banter and fun and if there are any ‘first-timers’ at burning man AKA ‘Virgins’ you have to step out of the car and go through some sort of spontaneous initiation ceremony... The least of which is to hit a large metal casing with a thick iron rod. Often however you may be playfully spanked (its a bit of a theme at BM), or made to get down and feel the playa dust which will now be your unavoidable ever present companion for the days ahead or similar such frivolity. But above all they’re there to welcome you home. It’s a beautiful thing.
One of our camp Jason – a true gent I have had the pleasure of befriending in London over the last 4 months had volunteered to be a greeter. He was assigned a midnight to 4am shift 3 nights into the event. Despite it being my first time at BM, Domenique (another of the rarest Canadian treats - acquired in Turkey on the Eclipse trip) and I joined him for that shift. Quickly we also began to ‘greet’ people arriving in the middle of the night. This must rank as one of the best things I did at BM. It was unselfish and super-fun to be able to provide a friendly face to welcome all the new arrivals back home. Seeing the nervous excitement on the faces of the virgins. Seeing the glorious glow of satisfaction in the eyes of those returning for their 2nd, 3rd, 5th, 7th, 12th times. It was amazing. And it felt like I was giving something of my spirit back to the world. I met people from all walks of life, notably a 73-year-old Iranian veteran burner bringing his 20-something niece for the first time and reuniting with his young nephew at our greeting station. Mostly Americans there were several Canadians, 2 French, 5 Japanese, 5 Venezuelan, some Mexicans and 2 Germans amongst those I welcomed. All were great sports, some moved inside fast while others stayed and chatted to us for many minutes indeed. I remember most of them more clearly than many other people I met during the week in the festival surrounds. We’d read the virgin’s their ‘rights’ which included not having the right to be clean anymore but included the right to shout ‘I’m not a fucking virgin anymore’ while they beat the metal casing and so on. Not only will I return to BM but I will also be sure to act as a ‘greeter’ again.
So what of the festival itself?
There was art, there was heat, there was dust, there were people, there were freaks, and crazy outfits and there was spanking, drinking, drugging, dancing, laughing, chatting, trouble-causing, third-aiding, friendliness, impromptu violin concerto’s, drumming circles, lessons in yoga, tantric sex, burlesque dancing, free breakfasts, lunches and dinners and a much wider variety of tremendously fun activities (see one page of events randomly scanned from the events guide). The generous ingenius reality of each activity swept so far past what my mind’s eye had pictured that I remain totally stunned over a week later.
I am not crowing now and claiming I partied the hardest or achieved all I wanted, or even left completely satiated. Rather I left, as mentioned, bedraggled and worn out yet filled with a renewed hunger for life and experience. As a first-timer I believe I performed adequately for myself though I recognise there were unseized opportunities and indulgences overdone that left me burnt out by the end and wondering at how much better it could yet be. The hedonist’s curse - no matter how much pleasure one indulges in one craves more. So it goes. And even as Burning Man is a hedonist’s paradise so too there is no slating of their thirst. I feel however that I have been shown another aspect of what can be had in one’s lifetime and it is good. I certainly plan to pace myself better next year but perhaps get there early too.
Now onto the Art – there were over 240 official artworks within the open area (playa) within the ‘city’ boundaries – all mentioned within the events and guidebook. They ranged from simple sculptures to immensely complex interactive structures (see shots) playing host to trapeze or fire-dancer performances. Add numerous unofficial artworks dotting the suburbs to supply passers by with innumerable distractions. Add to this hundreds of ‘Mutant Vehicles or Art Cars’ - fabulously decorated vehicles ranging from ‘skeleton’ quad-bikes through, mobile dance-floors disguised as sharks, ‘Nessie’ sea monsters, cats, a tortoise, to a long bendy-bus built up to look like a triple-decker galleon and Mega-Volt (see pic – mad electricity behaviour). These vehicles prowled the city streets and huge open area offering free drinks, rides, blaring dance music and so on (see Art Cars shots). Add to THAT the numerous ‘Theme Camps’ all over the city, again going from things such as the Astral Head wash Lounge (you get your hair washed), the hall of true mirrors (mirrors reflected into mirrors so you see yourself as other people see you and not reversed like you normally see yourself in a mirror – trippy) to the Thunderdome by the Deathguild (geodesic dome in which contestants battle it out in a world wrestling federation meets mad max fashion) and of course numerous indoor or outdoor dance arenas, bars and chill out areas. And every single one is free to all and yes that includes free booze though often it is only of THEIR choosing such as Margarita Camp or Camp Bloody Mary and so on.
So wherever you turn in this space there is a vast array of creativity on display. It is very difficult to move fast around the place as there is so much to see and so many interesting people to talk to or interact with. The standard choice of travel is by bicycle as the city is so large and one can move between points of interest timeously and return to one’s camp to change outfits or replenish water supplies. Driving around in cars is not permitted unless the vehicle has been registered with the Department of Mutant Vehicles (and thus is an ‘art’ car)
That people go to such cost extremes to provide entertainment to participants is a sure sign of the FEELING of BM and how it all works so smoothly as a ‘gifting’ economy. Many think of it as bartering but it is not even that, you give of what you have and receive what is offered but not in a ‘I’ll do this for you if you do this for me’ fashion. It was interesting to note the exchanges that did take place and how when someone did give me something I instinctively wanted to return the favour. But through these experiences I learnt some of the lessons of giving. How to give of oneself, how to receive and how much joy there can be in both of those. I’d love to give more of my spirit to the world and by god I am happy to let the world continue to give to me. I wish to remove the self and society-imposed fetters and roar appreciative delight in the face of life itself.
The mood of the place is much like being at a very good house party. Where the assumption is that everyone knows someone else there is invited and thus are approachable and less likely to be an idiot. It was the easiest thing in the world approaching people at BM to strike up a conversation – yes of course there were idiots and people ‘not to my taste’ but these were few and far between.
For example on one cycle ride I pulled up at a tennis umpire’s chair for a chat with a scantily clad lady atop it. She made for fine viewing but was more attractive just for the view she had. I sat in her lap and we chatted and watched all the comings and goings of the city. Then I left and cannot recall her name – nor did I see her again, but it was fun and felt perfectly normal. I mention this one not because it was a highlight but because there is a photo of it so it serves well as an example with a visual. You have to understand that there is nothing to be ashamed of at BM, nudity and more is commonplace and again, that all just feels right. Radical self-expression. In fact if you shock easily and are up tight then BM is either not the place for you. But it is a great crash course in getting over those inhibitions. Do not mistake this as a sign of a lack of respect. Barriers are still there. Yes means yes and no means no. As ever. And crossing a boundary uninvited may easily mean harshing someone’s mellow. And NO-ONE wants to do that – it is the unwritten worst crime at BM. Er… no actually the WORST thing is leaving MOOP (matter out of place) – see comment below. ‘Leave No Trace’ is one of the main principles of BM. If you bring it in you take it out. They provide no dustbins and you are even expected to remove your grey water (shower water and so on). And this is also all very achievable and they supply ample advice and guidelines on achieving it as easily as possible. They have to clean the site up to basically be cleaner than when BM started or they will have their license revoked. They’ve achieved this for several years in a row but it does require the efforts of a large team of volunteers to remain on and ensure it afterwards.
I realised too late in some cases that the city is so large that if you lose your friends you’re on your own for the rest of the day/night but that’s scarcely a problem given how friendly everyone is and how much super-fun stuff there is to do. But also you really cannot count on bumping into the same people again. If you see someone you want to talk to then you have to do it there and then. You are unlikely to randomly encounter them again. The event embodies the principles of Carpe Diem like none other. You have to seize the moment and be willing to act. My specific lesson in this occurred while playing a game of chess in centre-camp against a man so obsessed by chess that he would not leave the table to even pee – rather he pee’d in a bottle right there – perfectly ok with that. Needless to say I was defeated twice quite easily but sadly not so quickly that I had time to go and find the elderly African gentleman (50’s) in full Sotho traditional dress. Now THAT was a story I wanted to hear. Either he was someone who had been to a tiny country like Lesotho and acquired it as an outfit for the event or he was FROM that tiny country. Either way it fascinated me but remains one that got away. Now that I think about it, it may not have been the chess game that completely robbed me of that opportunity but perhaps it was the impromptu fashion show which I participated in, replete in knee-high gold lame converse boots, pink furry cowboy hat and a pair of Domenique’s knickers which fitted surprisingly well given how tiny she is. Or perhaps it was bumping into Rebecca, a yoga instructor of mine in little more than me - pink wig, stickies and glitter. Or perhaps it was the stand-up storytellers or jugglers or naked staff-twirling, poi-swinging acrobats. Or maybe it was while in the queue to order a tea (and spend a couple of bucks – rare opportunity) watching a guy have his mellow harshed being yelled at by a camp attendant for wearing a feather boa. It is VERY clear in the survival guide available all year round from the website that you should NOT wear feather boas as they shed too easily and create MOOP. His problem was that he got aggressive with her, which was exactly not the right thing to do having already transgressed a sacred line. Then again perhaps the Sotho man had been a hallucination. I’m trying here to paint a slight picture of the constant bustle of Alice in wonderland sights and sounds that prevail at BM.
So now I’ll add some meat onto the matter by describing a few of the most memorable events.
The Serpent Mother, a hydraulic steel snake ‘skeleton’ with 10’ rearing head circled around a her 8’ egg. It formed an amazing central chill-out circle surrounded by fire. Created by the Flaming Lotus Girls out of San Francisco (I think) - a crack squad of babes who’d welded an art piece of great beauty. Each vertebra (and there must have been 50) blew variable-height flames from propane canisters within. All of them could be operated by the audience via buttons on their supports and so allowed one to participate and interact with the Art. It was a beacon of warmth and beauty in and around which people would collect all night. In a grand finale on the Friday night – the egg opened to release her child - a message of hope for the future, which included a fantastic firework display. I found myself at the Serpent Mother often.
Each BM has a theme, this year was The Future: Hope or Fear. Next year it is Green Man with a focus on greening the event with renewable energy sources and ensuring that the carbon effects of burning the effigy of the man is offset with carbon credits or trees or whatever. Nice. I’m sure there will be a lot of naked green men too. I wonder if I will be one of them?
Art appreciation evening – as many in the camp plus friends as could be kept together took acid (yes, LSD) or mushrooms and went to explore the playa appreciating all of the art and silliness out there. We began as 30+ folk but in the 15 mins it took to reach the first artwork from our camp were already below 20. Such are the distractions. Dance areas, art cars, people, people who look like artworks, artworks, music, and darkness. Anyway we managed to be delighted by many of the creations for many hours dwindling to about 12 by about 4am when it was deemed time to go dancing. And then after some of that it was suddenly dawn and only Domenique and I were left. We felt we’d won though perhaps it was just us who got lost and remained out all night. A very funny time that really cannot be described. But a huge thank you to Madeline and Melanie for group captaincy skills beyond the call of duty on what was a humoungus shit show. And for never once harshing our mellow’s er… except for that one time by the alien pod-brain plastic milk carton shiny light with plaster of paris wormy-hole in the ground what the living flying fuck WAS THAT thing?
Back to gifting for a minute. An example of the generosity of ‘burners’… An American pilot, Jim, currently flying with Ryan Air in Europe had sent a mail to all of us ‘Euroburners’ (yes there are regional organisation/support mail groups) offering a short flight in his 6-seater plane around Black Rock City. Oh sorry, I guess I never mentioned that BRC has an airport – or dusty strip at any rate. They call it the Spaceport and there must be about 50 light aircraft there. BRC is the third biggest city in Nevada after all (for 1 week). Anyway I guess normally you have to shag someone to get a flight but he devised a way to give 25 of us a quick zip around (see shots) and THAT enabled us to really grasp the scale of the event. It is HUGE. And all we collectively left for him in his plane as anonymous gifts were tokens of Jack Daniels, condoms, lube, soup, flowers and a finger-fright and yet after BM he wrote such nice things of his appreciation of these gifts. That flight really was a GIFT. I can completely understand why he did it (cos he could) and how good it must’ve felt for him to enable such delight in 25 fellow burners. He could share something with us. And that’s what makes it so fun there. People want to share. So what did we give back?
Fingerfrights, chapsticks, some crazy interpretive dancing in public spaces, plus of course appreciating the art, performances and taking part in the crazy things people had set up. Such as the telephone to God – pick it up and yeah, you can have a chat with God or one of his angels as I got the first time I called. But the most fun thing we did was to provide Third Aid at The Critical Tits party. The Canadian girls in the group had started doing Third Aid a couple of years back and it’s a pretty funny gig. We all get dressed up in sexy skimpy outfits – kind of naughty-nurse like but do not mistake us as nurses. That’s first aid. We’re third aid. Ok so maybe we can apply a hotlips band-aid or some pirate ones. But that’s usually to cover some nipples that might have seen too much sun. Or perhaps those nipples need some tiger balm, who maybe you’re just hot and bothered and need some shade or a sprits of lemon water or a hand massage or perhaps a uv active tattoo or some chapstick, watermelon, condoms, a kind word, a hard spanking, or vice versa, or perhaps Doctor Lobster needs to award you a humorous badge after subjecting you to the Rawshag psychonautic ink-blot evaluation system. Its silly fun but people respond so well to it.
See www.thirdaid.blogspot.com - post comments please – and check it again soon – there’ll be more shots along soon god willing.
All of these things are but glimpses of what goes on and does little to convey more than a superficial feel of the event. There is a depth that can only be experienced.
I can say that by the 6th of 7 nights when they burn the man, I was pretty burnt out myself. I was also a bit tired of trying to fit in by standing out in some crazy outfit. There is an aspect to which ‘Playa-attire’ becomes a bit of a uniform. Perhaps next year I will add a smart suit to the crazy gear just for some variety… though you really do not feel like walking around in normal clothes.
But I roused myself and went down to join a surging horde of nigh-pagans dancing around the effigy of this man (about 40’ high?). Immediately after the start of the burn I was separated from my friends. So for my first burn I was largely on my own. It was the best thing. I did not get naked and try to run through the flames, I did not get all shamanic or tribal and I do not really get much from the idea of BURNING a MAN. But I certainly did remove my fur coat (remember its cold at night) and run around the man’s pyre. I also did throw something into the fire dispelling unpleasant things from my past that so they’d no hold me back. It felt great. I slept very well that night.
The next day, Sunday, was so calm. I felt like a lot had been released. It was spent generally chilling out, winding down and packing up the camp in anticipation of leaving early the next morning in the Exodus. It was a great day. That night there was the ‘Temple’ burn plus they were going to burn the Belgian Waffle or Beaver Dam as we had nicknamed it. This was the largest installation the playa had ever seen. Built of 100? tons of wood by 55 Belgians, it looked like a crazy pile of over-size pick-up sticks. It stood well over 50’ high and was 50’ deep and 100’ long with great arched cavern inside. It made a hell of a bonfire. The biggest blaze I have ever seen. The flames were so hot that they were creating a vortex within the fire that kept forming into a flaming dust devil that would then sweep out and plough, cinders and all through a section of the encircling crowd. It was mayhem and only just in control.
Oh yes – that’s another maxim of BM (and third aid). Safety third. There is much debate as to what is first and second. I favour Hedonism and Adventure but others think its Ketamine and Bacon. So it goes.
So there is this weird fashion in which everyone is super-friendly and nice and doesn’t want anything bad to happen to anyone but there is equally a definite independence required. You are not there to be looked after. The flaming lotus girls or other fire dancers are not there to keep you from being burned that’s up to you. It’s a fire – don’t get close. No-one’s going to make it their JOB to be sure you are drinking enough water or have sunscreen on your back, or see that you are too battered to be climbing that tottering art piece etc. You have to be self-reliant though of course there is help if you really do need it. There is a comprehensive medical aid centre with emergency helicopter evacuation capabilities and a place filled with sensible straight people to talk the drug-freaks down if the trip goes bad. Similarly there is a large group of Black Rock Rangers patrolling the city who will provide help and support as required as well maintain the few laws that there are (no MOOP etc). And of course there are some real cops too. But I barely noticed them throughout
So… America – its remarkable that such a decadent event can and does take place. It is totally anti-establishment and this very fact made me feel a bit better about America in general. To oversimplify this … there is no chance of an event like this happening in Iran, Iraq, North Korea, Syria, China, England etc… enough politics.
Aaargghhh I still cannot really get to what its like – hmm here’s the short version I using to describe it verbally. It is like the best 50 parties or artistic/performance events you’ve ever been to, in one place, every night for a week, but it’s 10 times better than that. And there is an informative, free, artistic, spiritual, performance aspect on top too.
Another curious aspect to the experience was the non-usage of money. For a week one barely touched or thought about it. I think I spent a total of $20 buying tea/coffee for me and other people. I know I shirked on ice duties but I’ll try to make up for that next year. So when I reached Reno again and had to fork out cash for things such as dinner, hotel, tips and so on it felt REALLY weird and kinda wrong. What also felt REALLY wrong was all of the casino business going on. It made me feel really sad for all those folk slipping their lives into those slot machines. But of course I am not here to judge and it is their life to lead but I can understand why gambling could be considered as bad an addiction as any other drug and be made illegal.
So some facts because there are a few I need to remind myself of...
I live in London; I am STILL working on a film about Edith Piaf until mid-October (La Vie En Rose). After that I do not know what I will do but I am looking forward to it.
Yesterday was the first day that I have not cried since I left Black Rock City on Monday 4th September. The tears are not of sadness but stem from the beauty of life.
I have now been back in London a week and I feel good. Very good. Very good about being able to deal with the good AND the bad things in life. Tonight I was at a friend’s Birthday Party (Eleanor at Passing Clouds, Hackney – lovely place lovely people). It was pouring with rain. By the time I wanted to leave it had stopped raining. When I got home 5 minutes later and was inside it began to pour again. Ha I thought even luck was on my side. Then I realised that the one thing better than NOT being caught in the rain is to be caught in a good mood in the rain.
I know some of this makes me sound like a hippy and sometimes I look a bit like one. So what. That’s not a box people can put me in; I’m just the wrong shape for it.
I really hope that this email reaches you and you are not sickened by how much I am going on about all the good stuff. I get my share of downs too. Obviously. Mountains and Valleys. And I know several months ago I promised a whole lot more about THAT theory. Well it’ll come one day. I just been collecting a bunch more empirical data to metamanage-o-morphasise about.
Photographically I’d rate my time as poor. I resisted lugging my SLR around so only got some shots with it. I was quite happy to use my compact and even then did not bother too much to use it, rather choosing to enjoy the experiences without the interference of a lens. But now, back at base, I wish I did have more. And some of my friends did take some great shots and they do help in trying to convey the event. I lost the main camera card from my compact– sigh. So it goes. However I have no shots from the first total eclipse I saw in Hungary in 1999 and yet it is still etched into my mind’s eye as clear as it ever was. Most of you who know me will know that did not stop eclipses casting a long shadow into my life. Hopefully this will be similar. I think there is some credibility in the claim that we come to only emember those things we have photographs of but of course having a photo can prompt a memory one may have forgotten. I am sure each Burning Man event is like none other and all are ‘blank’ chunks of marble from which a sculpture is waiting to be released. So this one is done and these are my thoughts.
Ok wait – I have written this without rereading what I wrote on the eve of my departure 25 August – a date which feels like it should be sometime last year not last month. I shall now reread it and see if I have anything to add…
Hmm… ok it kind of made me feel like this post was VERY long and also VERY one-dimensional – just about BM. Seems obvious I guess – it was pretty monumental as an event.
As for the psychonautic operations - I don’t think I did much of that consciously – I think that will come now… there were way too many distractions out there to get too concerned about heavy introspection. But yes ore was mined extensively and brought to the surface for refining.
Many people say that going to BM changed their lives. And I agree I am sure mine is changed too. Here’s some of how.
1) I have been shown what a good party is. I am going to have to lower my expectations regarding other parties now. They will only be as good as I can make them for myself.
2) I have found my tribe (or at least one to which I will report at least once a year)
3) I will not do something just because someone else is doing it
4) I will respect that people are different and thus want to do different things.
My mail from before I went also reminded me of getting a fortune cookie from a guy walking around inside a ‘Zoltar the Magician’ fun-fair puppet fortune-telling box. Which is just another example of some of the silliness available to the participator at BM.
I was recently taught that the correct way to interpret these fortunes is to add ‘… in bed’ to whatever you get.
“Treat yourself to dessert 3 times a week… … in bed”
It makes others very funny – such as the one I quoted in my previous mail:
“The truth is not always beautiful, but the thirst for it always is … in bed”
‘Great planets are hard to find. Don’t blow it… … in bed”
Love, clear skies and safety third.
A lot of you are new to my mass mails. If you want to read what I wrote before I left – back when I was in that heady period known as E4. Just mail me and I’ll forward it to you.
Oh and I really wanted to write about the Mystic Toad and the God Box but I was sworn to secrecy so I can’t. Sorry. You’ll have to through the initiation, swearing ceremony, confession and purification to find out for yourself.
And seeing as you read THIS far here are all the links you could want:
www.burningman.com the official and excellent website
www.burningmanpix.info (I do not know this person and a lot of the shots are of ‘girls gone wild’ which I find a bit sketchy but there really a lot of pretty good shots)
This is the third aid blog-link which is pretty fun though not fully updated with shots yet...