The High!!!

Welcome back, here’s part 2!

I wish to applaud how I have discovered the benefits of a drug largely new to me. People have been addicted to this one for centuries. Yet if one can hold off devouring certain common drugs then when one finally does partake the beneficial ‘high’ is extra rewarding. Much like one gets more benefits from going to university as a mature student rather than a whippersnapper fresh from school. This drug has been as good, similar to and curiously as inspiring as Absinthe.

And like absinthe I realise it is important to NEVER under any circumstances have more than 2 in one day or it may cost you an ear. I will also add that I only know this through PARTIAL empirical evidence. I have never myself had more than 2 absinthes in one day but I have had 2 on 3 occasions. On each of these the person I was with had a third, went completely NUTS. It was always I that bore the scars from those evenings.

I’ll not drag it out anymore but I am finally discovering the utter ‘creative fix-it’ joy of COFFEE. Wonderful. I’m glad I avoided it for so long to make use of it in this way now. I understand that this effect will wear off and I may never catch the same high again but no matter I get it now. In just the same way I ‘got’ surfing after just one lesson and now yearn for another opportunity to properly learn how to do THAT. Take note universe – I’m up for an assignment in a location that’d afford that opportunity.
I forgot to mention that I do not take all the shots I show with these musings – I favour mine where I can but use other people’s from our camp to show the event as best as possible. Notably I did not take the one with the trucks and rainbow – I wish! And this time I did not take the double rainbow one either from this round.

Many of you know me as a solar eclipse-chaser and this year as an extra cool treat there was a Total Lunar Eclipse on our first night. As it happened I was ‘man-down’ with a super bad cold and chest cough compounded by exhaustion from lack of sleep and jetlag. I just wanted to sleep and knew I should but how on earth could I of all people not stay up until 2.30 am to catch the deep red umbral phase of this phenomenon? So of course I pushed through and did. As a result I also witnessed the premature burning of The Man by an ‘individual’.

It seemed so unlikely that I was kind of in denial as I cycled out towards the place the man should’ve been but where a fire was burning instead. After years of people threatening to burn the bugger before the scheduled time, a prankster/performance artist had finally managed it. For me the “BURNING OF THE MAN” is not the highlight of the festival at all, in fact its rather random to me and I attach little significance to it. So I did not really care much at the time. I was just mildly annoyed in that I had planned to photograph the lunar eclipse and the man in the same frame after which I could’ve happily retreated to the RV to get more sleep having acquired my eclipse photograph of the event. Now I would have to find some other iconic thing about burning man to include in a snap with the eclipse. Eventually I got a barely satisfactory snap with one of the city ‘lamps’ and another with the bendy bus galleon.

I’d like to claim the eclipse meant more to me than it did that night but oddly I felt a little more duty-bound on this occasion than truly relishing it as the remarkable astronomical event during which is the only time we can see earth’s ever-present shadow. Of course I did appreciate its beauty and the moment but I was pretty ill and shattered. I guess Solar Eclipses are really my thing. I returned to sleep and managed to lie in until at least 1030, which can be very difficult as the day gets so hot so fast. Being in a tent can be unbearable by that time. This is one thing that makes an RV a better, if much more expensive option than a tent.

Every day like that first day, contains so many sights and sounds. Amongst these the Interaction Café stood out. Yes – they don’t serve food or drink! No - they serve INTERACTIONS. We arrived (Katie, Skez and I) and were ushered into a sumptuous restaurant by the maitre’d and flustered over by a group of waiters. Lovely chaps – splendidly half-dressed. Offered a table for 4 in case another guest arrived. We each picked an “h’orderve” from a proffered tin box. I forget what the others had but mine was ‘Perform an INTERPRETIVE DANCE on a theme suggested by one of your compatriots’. I can’t remember the suggestion but I did a dam buster flying around the room impersonation ending by revealing my underpants, which had the word ‘end’ written on the bum. The chaps who were running this Café were really funny and constantly making us and the other ‘diners’ feel great. As a main course, Skez had a non-contact ‘Blowjob’ while Katie had the ‘Human Camera’. I had the ‘Super Slo-motion Race’ that I shared with 2 waiters and Skez. This involved trying to travel about 3m as slowly as possible while tensing every muscle. VERY silly and very funny. I wish I did a snap to illustrate this place with as a picture does say 1000 words and it was a superb example of people going out of their way to ensure you have a great time.

Another thing I love doing is going Deep Playa alone on my bike. This is into the wide expanse of desert around the city in which various artworks have been dotted around. Once again, these artworks are pretty much created and installed at the artists expense (some of the bigger ones are funded by some of the event ticket purchase) and effort for your enjoyment and their self-expression. Doing this early in the week one can appreciate the solitude more as there are far fewer people but still enough to enjoy the odd random encounter. I found some good stuff. A field of a thousand silver windmills, a lone chair with a lone tree and a book with a poem about the last tree. A couch on which I had a short nap – aah. See snaps as I found it and as it had become by the end of the week, showing its evolution. There was a note on it describing the couch as the world’s smallest inn – ‘stay as long as you like – take the gift left by the last person and leave one in its place.’ My gifts were chapsticks with personalised stickers on them, along with individual pin-on buttons. I left these and took a scrap of paper on which was written this: “Accept loss forever”. Pretty ominous and rang a deep chord within me.

I administered some Third Aid in the form of a UV-active dolphin tattoo to ‘Pineapple’ of Los Angeles. To preserve water I administered this tattoo with saliva – it’s a desert after all! She and her friend Robyn were hanging out at the Big Rig Jig which is rather a good example of how bloody nuts this place is in terms of its art! I gifted them several of my buttons in what was the closest thing to a horse trade I had at BM. Robyn was wearing a badge saying “Don’t harsh my mellow” and I kinda REALLY needed that to give as a gift to another friend in dire need of just such a badge.

By nightfall I got back to camp but the others had already gone out. I randomly found them inside the Department of Playa Security – a theme camp ensuring Al-quaeda would not find a foothold in Black Rock City. To gain entrance I was rigorously searched by ‘Able’, a very able-bodied uniformed anti-terrorist agent who was quite convinced I was hiding bombs inside my mouth that only her tongue could detect. Rules is rules and while I knew I’d placed no bombs in my mouth one can never be sure that some other fiend hadn’t. I was relieved to eventually be given the all clear.

I had an encounter at Camp Validate because of a ‘u-turn girl’. This involved me bursting into their fantastic tent brandishing a riding crop, announcing ‘Ha ha – you have an intruder… and he’s armed… what’re you going to do?’ Much laughter… cries of ‘Give him a drink!’ A ‘u-turner’ is someone you do a u-turn for after you’ve cycled past them to ensure an interaction. It may be their cool outfit, gorgeous looks, the vodka jellies they’re giving out and so on. When I explained why I’d ‘u-turned’ and burst into the tent intent on conversing with this particular Lovely visible from the street, her reply was ‘Well, that’s ME validated!’ Then she gave me a rubber stamp to mark the word on her lovely tummy. This was that camps gift – providing validation for people on the playa. And always accompanied with some form on glowing praise for the thing one was being validated for and congratulatory alcoholic beverage of your choice. Later in the week in a slightly down moment I returned seeking my own validation. It worked – I felt much better afterwards though the strong mojito definitely helped!

We moved on. Finding a huge fairground creation involving 6 giant horses all moving up and down on poles. A hip-hop DJ was crunching out some great grindy chunes and soon as you like we were all over these horses dancing and messing around. There I met Saturn, a lady on stilts dancing next to me and while I was dancing on the horse, things were great but once I dismounted it became hard for her to stoop to my level. Stilt it was lovely while it lasted. Stilts equals bad news for conversation and smooching so bear that in mind if you’re planning a career in stilt walking. I doubt the guidance counselor will mention THAT aspect of the job. See inactive daytime snap of the horses thing quite a different place when not lit up nor surrounded by 200 dancing mad folk.

We spent some time hanging out near the fire twirler stage – this area is by no means the only place that fire twirlers operate, they do it bloody everywhere, but it’s a particularly good one with lots of extra visibility and drama being added by a circle of propane spewing gas towers. Amongst other things I saw here was a super remarkable fire hula-hoop girl and 2 huge guys with giant fireballs on chains doing what I hope was a pre-choreographed performance. Thinking about BM now I bet those 2 dudes didn’t even know each other and met on the stage for the first time that night. Safety Third! A constant amazement at BM is the quality of these performances. Always astounding. See snap for fireball guys. Also see snaps from Part 1 for hula fire-girl.

That’s just a light hazing of some of the stuff that happened the Tuesday – which was really my first day there.

The fact that none of this entertainment is provided by the organizers often makes people surprised to hear that one has to pay for a ticket too. The average ticket price is $250 so they are not too cheap either. Some of this money funds art, some of it funds the organization’s full-time staff, more of it pays for insurance, police hire, rental of the land, hire of earthmoving equipment, cranes and so on. However I also learned this year that the organisation supplies everybody who wants to use it with free propane. It is Burning Man after all. Apparently this one crazy art-piece which is a giant ‘X’ of propane towers spewing fireballs in series somewhat controlled by spectators pressing buttons burns $20,000 of propane a night. Seems unlikely but then I have no idea how much propane costs and this thing sure uses a lot of it! See snap from part 1 for this ‘X’ artwork.

Jay and I had volunteered as ‘Greeters’ on the gate from midnight to 4am on the Wednesday night. We did this the year before and had hugely appreciated it. Last year Domenique and I did it unofficially with Jay but this year I had committed to it beforehand. I’d decided I’d be in my fun policeman mode, wanted to cut an officious figure and be able to demand ‘papers’ or else from the new arrivals I wore a military uniform/polo outfit (see snap).

It was even more nuts than the year before with many more arrivals than at the same time last year. The satisfaction of being that person there to welcome all arrivals ‘home’ knows scant equal. Welcoming them with hugs, smiles, delight, silly banter and trading a tale or 2 then giving them the official warnings about driving and not putting foreign objects in toilets, finally handing out maps and so on. Of course it’s even better when a vehicle turns up containing virgins to initiate. This year officially spanking was off the initiation menu as someone sued someone the previous year. So we were left to initiate the virgins with bell-ringing, line crossing, playa dust angels and so on and of course if their friends requested the DELUXE greeting experience. This year the indefatigable Brian Spaley joined us and amongst others we had the delightful company of Hula, Keeper and Molly from Playa of the Apes. Out of Seattle these lovelies had erected a papier-mâché statue of liberty rising from the sands outside their cocktail tent. Coincidentally I’d met them all earlier that day while exploring the city.

I wonder if us greeters are regarded as an obstacle to getting into the main event by those who’ve driven long and hard to arrive late at night. Then I remember the super smiles these cars all contain as we bound up to them and ‘interact’. Never once have I had a bad response from someone I ‘greeted’. Though this time that could also have been to do with Hula’s ahem... special assets and her willingness to display them to arrivals. Of course I had to report her to Jay (he’d been appointed chief-greeter - hooray!) for the unauthorised display of goods without the required quality checks but after a thorough examination it was concluded they were more than acceptable. But even without her when I would introduce myself with my playa name - Doctor Lobster – without fail they’d break into a smile, laugh and I hope feel a little more likely to appreciate the absurdity of our existence.

Some of the cooler ‘greets’ included some Brazilians requesting the Deluxe Greeting Treatment for the 2 virgins in their group. Enough girls who love a man in uniform to make THAT outfit worth repeating next year. Also a lone French Dude who’d been at his desk in Paris and thought, ‘Merde, Burning Men - I must go’ - ok I don’t know what he really thought but he just grabbed a few things, his passport, went to the airport, booked a flight to Denver, San Fran then Reno, hired a car and arrived at the gates 28 hours later. It was his 3rd time and he’d almost missed coming. What else could I say but ‘Welcome home’. Also the unjaded 17-time burner finally bringing his 2 virgin friends along. The 3 virgins who’d been in New York, had their flight to London cancelled and just decided to come to BM instead.

But by far the best of all... sadly their names are lost to me... the husband and wife owners of the nearest gas station. They were finally coming to the event for the first time ever. Can you imagine - being the small town folk owning the closest gas station in the area and finally coming along to experience this behemoth of an event right on your doorstep that’s no doubt been a huge goldmine for them. They only had 6 hours, arriving at 3am but were super relaxed and so happy to chat to me about what they should do and the event in general! They were pretty sun weathered and craggy - I guess in their late 50’s – but all I could do was welcome them in, get them to ring the shell-case all virgins ring and shout ‘I’m not a fucking virgin anymore’ which they did lustily. My recommendation was to park their car somewhere about H-road and walk on up 6 o’clock until dawn. I wonder what they made of it! Maybe I’ll look them up next year.

At 4am we retreated to the safety of the Recharge Ranch to continue laughing the dawn in. Thank god for the RV so we could sleep late. Thank god also for the window in the RV that allowed Tali and Dan to feed raspberry pancakes to me until my strength was restored. Incidentally when I say sleeping late that is still only 10am. A REALLY good nights sleep at BM is probably 5 hours. Perhaps it is the fact that I draw huge energy from hot and dry conditions or perhaps it’s the exuberant nature of the event as 5 hours feels like enough sleep. I guess it’s also a lot to do with the idea of ‘well - I’ll sleep on the plane or when I’m dead’.

Last year the music was ok but this year I heard some of the best dance music I have ever heard. I put this down to knowing more about where to go, when to go, where to stay and being in extrovert overdrive. Also being with more friends helped make dancing several hours every day even more fun.

We danced at The Deep End daytime dance area twice. Once to our favourite Space Cowboy DJ – Mancub – the best daytime dancing I’ve ever done and only eclipsed as a general dance experience by the following night’s nocturnal activities on top of the bar at the Ashram Galactica (no HBO). The music led us on a journey for the entire afternoon, letting us engage with everyone around. The spirit of the crowd exquisite!

The second time at the Deep End was the most hardcore outdoor, at the mercy of the elements dancing by far. I’d been lucky with the weather this year and last, always being with someone suitably comfy in a tent or RV when a dust storm hit. My luck ended that day at The Deep End. At times we were barely able to see a few feet in front of oneself. But the DJ played on and the party faithful stuck it out. And THAT spirit was wild and unchained. Strong like some tribe of party savages about to feast. The conditions at BM can be extreme and not for the faint-hearted. Beware and be warned! Goggles and mask. When this dust storm cleared we were rewarded with an intense double rainbow. Super beautiful picture attached (not mine – again!)

So there you have it for this part – a very few of the things we got up to before the weekend at BM.

I’ve attached a LOT of very low res images showing some more of the art and some showing some of the things I wrote about in this mail and one of 2 girls showing us their beavers.

I can also let you know that I'm still running a multiple set of equations and analysis programs in various parts of my body, mind and soul in an attempt to gauge just how far the innerverse has expanded as a result of this recent super-ina-nova. For the last several weeks every available psychonaut I have (they’re like astronauts but do to inner space what astronauts do to outer space), has been preparing to go forth and explore these new regions within me. Many of the expeditions have been deliberately delayed to gather strength for what might be quite a lengthy journey. And I’ll admit some of them are just a wee bit daunted by the task – after all whose to say there will not be spiders as big as tigers in these new regions of my mind? If you care to offer a topic of exploration I’ll add it to their workload.

I’ve been joking for some time about being an interdimensional lay-by cartographer but now I realise what I REALLY am is an inner-dimensional cartographer. Watch this space.


As I mentioned life’s experiences have continued unabated since BM – not the least of which involved a magic time in LA with the mermaid Pearl, a surprise acquisition at BM, another unforgettable and equally surprising time in London with the same Pearl, a full contact dance mission to Ibiza, the continued delights of Doomsday, the film I am employed by, a few uncommonly good parties, friendships, Rugby World Cup (Bokke!), house-hunting, succumbing to the evils of the televised cricket, the Masque of the Red Death and Shillington cocktails.

Once more feel free to hit the opt-out clause and avoid the next installment.

Love

Doctor Lobster xxx

That’s my playa name – like a nickname really though it has to stick to you like shit to a blanket, without telling the tale mine is came as a combination of Third Aid, Hot Baths and a Curious Kitten.

Doesn’t it seem super suspicious that one can buy items like Christmas mince pies that have best before dates more than 6 weeks prior to xmas itself!!!
I’ll have a moment of appreciation for the decommodification aspect of BM. Ahh.

With Goose-like Tread Upon the Way I steal

PART 1

Beloved Friends,

I am pretty nervous right now (*). As a fattened goose would be. One who never wondered why on earth he was being fed so much rich and yummy food by some benign keeper. Oh yes my friends – there-in lies my nervousness. I have given little thought (**) as to why so many rich experiences have been made available to me. Instead I have dived in and gorged myself sick on marrow from the bones of life. Now I am certain my soul’s equivalent of the liver is engorged and swollen out of proportion from the wonders and pleasures of which I have availed myself. Certainly to judge by the increased size of my laugh muscles these last few weeks have been a damn good work out in the fun department. My ‘nervousness’ may now come from the notion that perhaps I have been fattened for the kill! That some angel or demon is right now sharpening a scythe in advance of a celestial feast at which some part of me will form a delicacy.

*I’m not really
**I have really – One should enjoy what is made available to one. Regardless of what that is. If it is horror and suffering then one should enjoy that for the karmic cleansing nature of it. If it is pleasure and progress then one should enjoy that as karmic reward for previous benevolent action.

Here’s a pome (well you could hardly call it a poem) that’s been forming in a really odd corner of my mind and is surprisingly bypassing my internal censors and being released into the world...

If the Lord sees fit
To cover me in shit
That’s his wish - I’ll revel in it

If its honey and wine
Upon which I may dine
Even better then - His choice and mine

Yeah every experience is worthwhile for something.

Back to the goose metaphor - I have 2 choices:

wait and see what happens – continuing to revel and gorge myself so when the inevitable happens, at least those buggers will have a fine tasting treat. If I am just to end up as a feast on God’s table then I want to be as good a morsel for him as I can be.

the other is to try to find an escape route. But I think any notion of attempting to waddle off in some direction from some improbable threat is really just the last vestiges of the old ‘catholic-guilt-I’m-not-good-enough-nonsense’. I’m squeezing that out of my belief system. And boy, can I tell you, I’m going to be really happy when that’s all finally gone.

Hmm – somehow that makes sense though it also carries an edge of expectation and THAT is something that ALWAYS needs to be managed. And you better manage yours in relation to this email cos the management of it have carefully ensured that it contains numerous mistakes. On top of that they have deliberately included a multitude of confusing metaphors, similes, mad-cap theory and half-finished strains of thought for which I accept no responsibility.

Anyway I’m going for option 1 - accept my fate as trying to avoid it’s only going to mean I do not enjoy the ride my life sometimes seems to be.

Its taken me 3... 4... Shit 5 or whatever weeks since Burning Man (BM) to write this as life’s experiences have continued unabated since then. This was my 2nd trip to BM and once again it affected me deeply.

I’m also making an unprecedented move and releasing the piece as separate installments. Why?

The initial draft is already WAY too long. So by breaking it down somewhat may mean more of you read it. Though I know even this may be too long for some of you busy folks out there. It’ll also mean I can send a few more pics overall. I suppose it’ll come as 3 parts within a week or 2.

And it also means instead of rattling on about just BM I can digress into other stuff along the way.

Last year (feels like a century ago) I never knew many of you so you will not have received what I wrote last year about my 1st trip to BM so if you like any of this or know nothing AT ALL about BM please feel free to request it as ancillary reading and/or check out www.burningman.com. I also wrote some stuff just before I left so you may request that too!

Nowadays I’m pretty much always a positive person and willing to express that. However a long time ago a friend very close to me shook me by asking me who I was trying to convince by always being so positive about my life’s experiences – other people or myself? I believe a kind word said at the right time can go a long way. But equally a harsh word spoken at the wrong moment can cast a long shadow. That comment induced extra insecurity and doubt into my life. So that, plus the greater impact of this 2nd BM trip made me wonder about the 1st one – did I really have such a good time back then?

The answer is a resounding YES. By going to BM I opened myself up. Its increased my appreciation of EVERYTHING - the world and my place in it. Hence when I RETURNED to BM I was even more able to appreciate just how incredible an event it is. And in turn by being more open there I was able to garner even greater value from the event which is opening me up further. And along with it a great increase in my energy levels and apparent capacity to adore this silly planet we live on.

The 2 major factors influencing and increasing my enjoyment of this year’s event - People and Experience.
When both are combined they result in a healthy increase in Confidence.

I knew a lot more people this year – the Canadians of Slaktoria that I camped with last year and have seen while in the company of Princess Crab of Victoria, Warwick a great friend of 20 years and numerous adventures (an e2-b as it happens – either you know or you will in the next installment, I’m an e4-b2), Katie Clarke (also e2-b!) and Skez (a mere e-b), Brian Spaley (one of those people’s whose surname is clearly part of their 1st name), Angela and Will, Kris, Menkin and Donnie, friends of the inimitable Jayman (recently renamed Cheetah!) whose friendship has deepened incredibly over the year, various ‘Burners’ or acquaintances from Europe and LA, the fresh and lovely folk of our camp, the Recharge Ranch and all of those people’s compatriots. If you never got name-checked here and feel you should – no fear there are many opportunities later in the fact-phase.

Having a strong foundation of people to operate from is a great confidence booster. They introduce you to others and provide you with a friendly base to retreat to when the going gets tough. Its so easy to flitter or bounce around a place flirting, meeting, chatting and being generally ridiculous when you know that at any moment you can just give up that game and return to a group of friends who’ll pull you safely from the wreckage if you’ve been shot down in flames. Furthermore I’ll admit that it can also be more fun to have one’s acts of heroism or creative silliness witnessed by friends who may then write poems of your bravery and spread word of your legend. Ooooo – that’s tantamount to a confession – well I am much better in front of an audience than in a dry rehearsal. Top tip for me – you’ll get the best out of me if you make me feel like I have an audience.

Now I’m hoping that most of you know something about BM but knowing that some of you will not have done your homework here’s the most important stuff to know about BM.

Its in a desert at 4000 feet or whatever. Its boiling hot in the day, freezing at night. Harsh conditions – dry and super dusty. You have to be prepared. You have to be radically self-reliant and bring everything you need by way of food, water and shelter. You also have to take it all away with you afterwards without fail. And people do. There is no commerce. No entertainment is arranged by the organisers. Nothing is bought or sold. Every item from booze, food, through hugs and smiles is given free by the gifter. There is trading in a sense – in that someone gives a gift and you may return one if you like but there is no: if you give me this then I’ll give you that!

All entertainment is provided by the participants. People come and do stuff, create art and offer activities and so on just because they want to. And when you realise that they REALLY want you to come in and enjoy what they have created you can do so with such a free spirit. It makes the exchanges between you and other people so remarkably open. You find yourself simply loving that this event exists and that it all works out. Quite astonishing. And there’s 47000 people there and no they’re not really hippies.

No longer being a virgin was a huge help. I knew what to expect and how to better access the wonders the event offered. The art, the mayhem and knowing that people want to interact and engage. Plus I managed to pace myself over the whole week, not burning out early and focusing energy into the times that one wants to enjoy more. Such as the daytime, when art and people are more visible and can be engaged with easier than at night when its more about dancing and staying with your own gang. Then again, when I did go out at night (er and that was of course, every night), this time it was easier to find that brilliant time because I knew more about where to look. Funny thing... Now that I think about it, I’m not so sure I did pace myself so much as I think I might just have had more energy. Maybe I’m just better at it now. I do get a lot of energy from hot and dry weather.

But here is a titbit from one of the encounters I had

En route home I spotted the Talk to God phone box and figured a chat with the almighty might be in order (see snaps). God sounded like he was on Opium he was so super laid back. Actually he did sound REALLY tired. I guess he doesn’t get a lot of rest – just one day a week. Hmm..
“This is God, how may I help you?”
I answered him with ‘Hi God, does anyone ever call you just to say hi?’
“No – never”
‘Well me neither - sorry – you see I’ve got this really bad case of flu and I thought perhaps you could miracle cure it’
“well – I could of course – but its better if we just leave your body to do it”
‘er.. Ok if you think that’s best’
“yes – that’s best. That’s a really lovely outfit you have on by the way”
‘thanks god, gosh its really cool to know you really are omnipresent and all-knowing’
“yes – is there anything else I can do for you”
‘er... Do you perhaps have a beer.’
“of course – I can hook you up with some of that, I’ll send an angel. Anything else”
‘no that’s fine, great, thanks, nice chatting, bye now’
“bye”

And sure enough a lovely appeared – handed me a beer (can) with a smile, turned and vanished into thin air.

After me a couple went into the phone-booth and I overheard this sound-delight - the girl to the boy after they had picked up the receiver:

‘There - see, I TOLD you he existed!’

Its all that kind of funny stuff that makes this festival so much fun and makes you want to contribute to it creatively in your own way too. Now curiously a pretty similar thing happened to me last year but it was a different phone in a different part of the city and I’m not sure if the God was the same. I’m not one for monogamy oh fuck sorry monotheism – I think either there’s ONE or as every culture seems to have one then there’s several. No big deal – let’s move on. Same result though – beer. 6 pack last year. Both times I never managed to delay the angel for long, they must be immune. And oddly I don’t even like beer much. Next year I’ll try to think of something else to ask for or hell, perhaps I’ll just let sleeping gods lie.

Attached a few snaps just of things and bits and pieces. A few art pieces. A few people doing things. Stuff. More to come so there ya go.

Incidentally the title for this email was inspired by one of my all-time favourite songs. Its from The Pirates of Penzance by Gilbert and Sullivan. “With Cat-like Tread” . Its all about pirates and pretty funny. But its very useful to do silly sexy interpretive dancing to and formed part of my best performance ever – the Pirate/Cowboy/Vampire/Knight impressionistic dance act.

I’m in bed writing this footnote long before I have finished the rest of this mail. And I’m playing that track to check if I still like it as much. And yes I do – its bloody ridiculous, filled with soaring nonsense and has me awriggling in my lovely white bed – there is a hot bath waiting and its taking all my effort not to leap up and dance around the room. ........ Ok I failed – I did leap up and danced around my room, alone, for real. And I’m pretty surprised that I did that. Normally I do that kind of stuff only in front of people – you know when I have an audience and all that. Gosh – this is so much fun really. I do enjoy writing this nonsense – I like the action of it – my fingers clicking away on these cool keys, trying to spend time with each of you. Conveying some peculiarities of the things I think of the universe. Sharing my experiences, trying to draw a laugh and expose an emotion and create a sense of the immediacy of my communication. Trying to write as is I were talking to you. As if we were together. To me this time spent writing is almost like time spent in your company – though I get to do all the talking! Nice. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to do this and to have someone out there read what I have written. So much of my life I have yearned to be creatively expressive and each of you who read this are making that a reality for me. Thank you all for fulfilling my greatest dreams.

Love, light, clear skies and barely expressible but abundant amounts of goodwill and joy.

Doctor Lobster


Serious aside: clearly I am not ALWAYS so effusively ecstatic in my moods but writing this right now has put me into that state. So please know that the last few lines I wrote above were meant with utter earnesty. Thank you for you.

As I’m plotting more of this feel free to request being removed from the list too – no offence will be taken.

14d - Reality

Tree with me as scale reference (i removed me from other shot). But if you think THAT tree is big then check this one:

Trees are super cool but they are somewhat limited especially in range of motion and they lack opposable thumbs too! If a tree can get this big imagine what you with all the faculties of your body, brain, heart and soul can do!

Click here to go back

Up, Up and Away

Hello Everyone,

This is the customary note I try to make before I embark on a Spaceship of the Imagination.

But before I board it I have a few hundred things to do – here are a few of them...

Rid my beloved potatoe plants of another hoard of snails (I took about 30 last night!)
100 bicycle sit-ups, 50 pull-ups, 140 crunchies and 90 press-ups.
Cycle to Soho and back once
Properly repot the tree that makes my bathroom so beautiful – the shoddy job of just adding loam to the pot that I did previously was not enough. The tree has desperately sent tiny little green roots out all over this thin layer. It deserves MUCH better care and attention.
Do a last yoga class
Respond individually to each of you that is good (and quick) enough to reply to this nonsense
Read some of my most talented and excellent friend – Liz’s script and respond to her (unlikely this will be completed before I leave but who knows – stranger things have happened)
Go to sleep twice in my own bed
Brush my teeth 4 times (at least)
Phone my mum (and dad)
Add the final flourishes to an outfit or two
Cram the luggage closed
Flirt with at least 2 people (and neither them nor I know who they are yet)
Deal with about 500 annoying things to do with the career
Battle the queues at Heathrow
Board a plane
Survive airline grub
Take a sleeping pill
Have a delightful 20 mins of wavy drifty weird-ass dream-wakings
Surface in LA
Clear US immigration in ridiculous clothing
Catch a taxi into Hollywood
See Warwick – a friend of many years and my main wingman for the excursion
Stock an RV for inter-dimensional travel
Drive 12 hours of scenic USA in one day
Rendesvous at Pyramid Lake with Jason, fellow Fun Policeman and whoever he’s riding with.
Pretend to sleep for a few hours on Sunday night

And so on...

And then I am back at what I think may be my ‘tribal’ home – Black Rock City, Nevada, USA – truly the Spaceport of the Imagination. I will also be in the period know as E4-B2.

Right.... So for those of you who do not know – this Friday I’m off to the Burning Man Festival in the states. It rocked my world last year and I’ve yearned for it ever since. Now the time to return is nigh and I have many hopes and fears. Which curiously is what the last year’s festival’s theme was. This year is Green Man – sustainability and so on.

I’m so looking forward to walking it’s (BRC) streets again, taking in human creativity at the Nth degree. That combined with the inspired ingenuity of the individual, the warm endeavour of the community and the force of nature make for a fine melting pot into which to cast my current form. And out of it a new me will rise. Last year I wrote myself a postcard while in the desert – I reread it this morning. The postcard had this printed on it: “In the space below capture for yourself what you want to take home from Burning Man this year.” And I had written:
“Myself – as I have always wanted to be. Free, spirited, inspired and inspirational. Filled with love for humanity and good will. Capable of decisive action.”

Hahaha that was pretty melodramatic and a bit hippy – well, those of you who know me, know I like a bit of that.

Anyway allow me to return to something else - ‘Returning’

Over the years I have often had a slight itch to do ‘new’ stuff and kinda embarrassed to admit it but there has been something about not wanting to go back to a country instead of going to a new one. The reason being as base as wanting a longer list of countries I have been to. I see that as puerile and short-sighted. However, Sam, my last long-term ‘relation-love’, helped me see how returning to a place can be even more rewarding than exploring some random new location (which is usually very rewarding in itself). Firstly one gets a better appreciation of things like geography – the roads and hills remain largely the same which is comforting and allows one to notice so many new things about a place. One gets welcomed back by the locals, who also very often have remained as unchanged as the geography. Now one is no longer just a tourist.

Yet while so much of a destination may remain the same, when I return to a location I have the distinct impression of meeting ‘myself’ again. Passing certain corners or places evoke memories of the last time I was there. What I was doing, feeling and thinking. Some spots even remind me of smells from other distant times – not because they smell of that but because of a common random thought I had at the time. For example, as a child I watched Octopussy in a cinema that smelled odd, not in a bad way but just in a very distinctive though unplaceable way. The cinema was almost empty and at that age (9-10?) I thought to myself, I will remember this smell forever. Now, whenever the thought occurs to me that I will remember a moment forever I smell that smell again. Vividly. And to this day I have never smelled that smell in any conventional sense in the world.

I don’t think I’ve ever even talked about that smell and experience before (ok maybe half-heartedly tried once or twice). Tricky to talk about its been trickier to write about. Just an awkward concept to try to explain. But I may put it out there that the smell I smelled was not a smell at all or not one set in the world of our normal senses. Rather it was the smell an experience makes as it is being branded into one’s memory. If it can be described in any way, it would be a smell like ... No, I cannot think of any words to describe it. It is all-pervasive though in its moment. It is the only smell that can happen in that moment – it is that strong.

So ... Back to the point - or perhaps that, inadvertently, was it. When one ‘goes back’ one meets oneself again and has that opportunity to complete circles and cycles. To understand where one came from, to enable understanding where one is and where one can go to.

I’m going BACK to a place again. A place that felt like my home and did inspire and heal me. So now on this return I can quite confidently say that I am returning free, spirited, inspired and inspirational. Filled with love for humanity and good will. Capable of decisive action. At least that is what I feel.

I will not expect to be welcomed back by any locals as no-one really is ‘local’ there – but I know a lot more people who will be there, the circumstances are different and the experiences will be new and no doubt remarkable. I also really know what to expect in some ways and have plans and ideas as to how to make excellent usage of the time there. I know much more about myself too. But what I look forward to most is that I will meet ‘myself’ there again. As I was a year and what feels like a lifetime ago. I’m excited to see and feel that change, to be able to note the differences and gauge something of the journey and then to turn back to the present, enjoy it and boldly take a hop, skip and a jump into my future. Happily and assured.

Now this future I speak of... Its a varied yet very big place. And I’m deeply intrigued at the prospect of seeing you all there.

Love, light and clear skies

Doctor Lobster

Interdimensional Lay-By Cartographer by appointment of Pimms and Lemonade

Attached image was me dress rehearsing the good doctor’s new Third Aid Labcoat onset with the 1/3 scale miniature bus we blew up. I’m probably not meant to send images like that around by the way... But the experience was a richly rewarding ‘creative’ one.

Year of the Pig - Wallowing In It

Fine friends,

You wallow, I wallow, we will all wallow in the fields of our own making. This is something that never changes.

This last year, The Dog was a year of seeking. A year of searching can be stressful and does not always yield positive results. However the Dog is a loyal year and ensures that if the thing saught is worth finding then it shall be found and if it is not worth finding then at least we will enjoy the search. That was The Dog.

All of that positive and forward motion may leave you feeling like you have scaled great heights or indeed that you are ready to. You may even have developed a taste for climbing sheer cliffs and be thirsty for more. But for now you are on a plateau and should rejoice in the flat walk ahead. As with each step you carry yourself that much further from the precipice. Seek no further height until you have enjoyed the riches in this new place and restocked for the journey ahead. The plains between peaks are as much part of the climb as the rockface itself.

Last year the explorer and adventurer in you drove your quest – this year it is your wisdom that will serve you the best. Wisdom comes not from a self-help book but from trusting yourself and the world around you. If you can just relax into knowing that you are on your path, and each of us is, then every step becomes clear. Whatever it is you do, you are being true to yourself, adore the decisions you make, because that IS who you are.

This is the Pig.

From Sunday, a celebration of oneself on an even keel, resolute and forward thinking. I hope this year doubles your laugh-lines and that you add to those on the people around you.

Love ya

Ps the correct way to read a chinese fortune cookie – is to add these words to the end of it “... in bed!”

Burning Bloody Man

Friends,

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…

PAUSE

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.

I got:
“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”

and

‘Great planets are hard to find. Don’t blow it… … in bed”

Love, clear skies and safety third.

hal

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...
http://www.thirdaid.blogspot.com

The End of This

Dear Everyone of this delicious extended network of lovely people I am fortunate enough to know all over this temperate medium-sized planet's surface,

Its been a long time since I last wrote. I've meant to. I've wanted to. But I guess I just haven't. Maybe because things were simpler and more complex in my life. And I have no plan to explain anything of that last statement just to move toward to an, as-ever, bright future. I find that as I approach exciting events in my life I become even more active in my sleep. Periods of stress and over-work can cause this too. But my workload has been relatively light of late. The desire to write before my next ‘big’ adventure is too great to remain silent.

Anyway last night in a hotel in Paris (work-trip), while asleep I physically threw myself from the bed and into one of the room’s corners. I cannot remember what dream state prompted it but it is pretty amusing even if embarrassing and a little disturbing. The situation became funnier when the period of bewilderment lasted long enough for me, naked (aren’t I always in these emails?), to open the door to the bathroom and step in only to find myself in the hotel corridor. Thank bugger it was a dream-state rather than a nightmare-state - I did not closed the door behind me. And thank god at 4 am the corridor was empty. Still I did laugh myself back to sleep. You may laugh at this and I hope you do but don’t put it on my permanent record please.

What drives me to write now is that I am on the eve of another momentous adventure. My first trip to Burning Man. In much the same way as I eagerly await Eclipses so I have anticipated this trip since deciding I would do it back around the time I saw that last eclipse - 29 March. My fourth. At that time I also had the fortune to meet a Canadian Burner (Domenique) who reminded me of the festival’s existence and judging by her stories it seemed like a bloody good idea to go.

Back then I wrote that I had decided to start to measure my life according to a solar eclipse calendar. Hence I was in the period to be known as E4 (until 1 August 2008 when hopefully I will enter E5). Well I have decided to add another letter to that equation. B. To be added when I have been to Burning Man after an eclipse. So in a few days time I will be in the period E4-b. Then in august 2007 E4-2b. E5 as mentioned above and then approximately 4 weeks later hopefully E5-b. You understand that this is ALL just for a laugh.

I like the way this starts to sound like a chemical compound. Even though I decided to hate chemistry at school (the bad smells during my experiments always earning a reprimand which ruined the fun), I have always liked the Periodic Table. That everything was made up from a combination of these really very few substances. Substances that in isolation could never appear to be useful forms for makings nice things. How was the soft roundness of a breast made from a lump of coal and so on? In later years I was delighted to learn that probably a quarter of the table was practically non-existent anyway, elements that had been created for the briefest of moments in science labs at ridiculous cost and so existed only barely longer than the theoretical. And another quarter so rare as to not be worth bothering with. Great, all so simple then. Except life is of course wonderfully not so.

Anyway - there is something about the Burning Man festival that despite my never having been I yearn towards. Is it the radical self-expression? The radical self-reliance? The leave no-trace? Or indeed the one I sometimes forget to mention when talking about it - the spirit of community and its gifting economy. Naturally it is a combination of all four. That plus the recognition that most 'burners' I have met have been remarkably open and generous people. Of course I have not embraced all I have met but the fact that 'burner' communities exist all over the planet suggests there is something about the experience that can provide something of a uniting spirit. I even let a person I have never met stay in my house in Turkey pretty much because they were in need but also somehow as they were a 'burner' my hand of hospitality was extended super-fast. I have yet to meet this person but there are plans to do so at BM this year. Nice. Rather than write much more about BM itself I’ll suggest you visit www.burningman.com and check that out. Of course I will write a ‘report’ on my return.

I have benefited magnificently from the introduction of certain 'Burners' into my life over the last 4 months. They have allowed me to indulge so many of my fantasy lifestyles and creative outlets. I have in this period, travelled, written, photographed as never before, painted, danced and acted. Its been wonderful self-exploration and feels like the manifestation of years of watching and learning. Or indeed perhaps years of not watching and not learning. Only time will tell though I am now quite convinced it doesn’t really matter. Either way I am not being specific about the influences in my life – they know very well who they are.

Or is it that I have allowed myself this pleasure? Throwing off the shackles of self-restraint and denying myself no longer. Who knows. But I will try to keep it all going. As my life travels take me through valley and over mountain, its all good. The valleys are beautiful places of growth, rest, recovery and preparation, the mountains, exhilarating places to put to practise new skills on steep learning curves. Places to view fresh and broader horizons from.

I have always wanted to go into space. As an astronaut. Recently I had a remarkably pleasant philosophical discussion with a man I have been friends with for many years and who indeed I met in a queue to register for Philosophy 1 in 1990 – Jonty Rooke. He enlightened me as to the concept of a psychonaut. This apparently is the phrase to describe a person who actively pursues an exploration of the interior of their own inner-space with the same intensity as an astronaut wishes to explore outer-space. Sounds good to me. I’m down with being one of those. Doesn’t stop me wanting to go into space though. That’s still on my list. I plan even more in-depth psychonautical studies out in the desert at burning man though there surely will be enough distractions around. I expect them to inspire and as an opportunity to observe the wilder folk of this planet trying to be at their wildest it’s probably unbeatable.

So anyway, other than that, this period of horizon broadening has also coincided with learning how to paraglide and the irony of the literal and figurative coinciding is not lost on me. For me paragliding has done to air what Scuba diving did to water. Gave that element a whole extra reason for existing. No longer is water just for drinking or swimming in – it is something to envelop oneself in and move through exploring. So now air is not just for breathing – it is also for lift, flight and moving through. It is extra space on the planet for me. Considerably less cluttered than the ground layer. Much more of that to come.

Moving on...

I am not sure but I have not detected the ability to feel a tree’s living roots beneath the ground under my feet anymore. I used to have this. Or at least think I did – I never dug a tree up to find out for sure. In exchange I seem to have acquired more of an ability to detect inclines. I think I prefer the idea of feeling tree-roots more though its not much of a special power compared to x-ray vision and super-breath etc.

Finally an update on the Year of the Dog (**see below**). It seems quite certain that I have been searching extensively in the past 5 months and have found many things. And its equally certain that the trail and discovery of them have been incredibly fun just as an experience. In other words the jury is still out in terms of whether or not the things found have long-lasting importance, relevance or worth but as expected the trip has been along the scenic route and much-enjoyed. As a result I have enjoyed the most mentally relaxed of Northern Summers thus far. I hope at least that attitude remains long into the future.

All of this reminds me a fortune cookie I once received “The truth is not always beautiful, but the thirst for it always is”

So short term I am away until 6th Sept on a hugely fun psychonautic exploration far beyond any threshold I have crossed to date. I’m looking to learn, dance and have a good old time. Then return to England, finish this film about Edith Piaf off and plot a course for the future, I hope to see you there. More likely if it is in the upper west hemisphere.

Finally I hope all of you are all happy and well-fed from suckling on the teats of life.

I wrote it fast ... And I know I am being a bit elusive about the recent times. Too bad. They’ve been good to me.

Clear Skies

Love