Write to me at BRC

Whoever is out there reading:

Did you know you can send mail TO Black Rock City? Send me a letter or something! My address for the next week is:

Cheruborg
Destiny Lounge
2:00 Portal (near the plaza)
c/o BRCPO
Burning Man
Gerlach, NV 89142

If I've got the postage, I'll even write you back! I'd send it by Wednesday if I were you, though, or else it'll likely bounce.

I'm just about done getting set up to set off tomorrow, arriving at Home on Monday AM.

www.blackrockcitypostoffice.org/

Find me at Destiny Lounge, 3:00 keyhole!

It's official! I've signed on with Destiny Lounge, practically on the Esplanade at 3:00 - I'd guess you'd call it "3:00 Portal".

destinylounge.outtatheway.com/

Come on by and enjoy lemonade and iced tea, try our games, Fling Of Destiny and Rock Your Balls, and enjoy music by Spirit Fire.

Can't wait to see you all out there!

- s

Homeless on the playa - invite me, or follow me to Camp Punäliikkuva

This year will be my third burn. My first year, I was taken in by the wonderful folks of People United for Nothing, but last year I wound up camping alone and spending all my time at Venice Vibe Tribe (Bobby, can I have back my 7 gallon water container?). I'd like to join in with a camp this year, or perhaps create one - I think it's too late for an "official" theme camp, but maybe we can pull something together

There are two things I really want from this:
1) An established playa address before I leave. I'd like to be able to tell people where I'll be, and head straight for my spot and set up when I get there, instead of randomly driving around for two hours trying to find a good spot
2) I've heard tales of such a thing as a food plan that you can pay for in advance. Gosh, that would sure be nice - I just can't handle the infrastructure for proper food (ice, cooler, bike to transport ice, cooking, cleaning, etc), and have survived on Clif bars and tuna fish.

Stuff like good friends and a big shade structure would be massive bonuses.

Would some kind camp be willing to take me and my virgin campmate? I'm a good and well-prepared burner, largely self-sufficient, and even have a derelict jeep in a graveyard in Bakersfield that would be perfect for an art car (though perhaps it's too late for that this year). My setup is just a tent and a car, though I'm trying to talk a relative with a lovely RV into joining me.

Alternatively - and this isn't a bad idea at all - if enough of my friends respond to this blog with interest, I could take a leadership role and we could start Camp Punäliikkuva - I have a large loft downtown for pre-burn meetings, and the organizational skills to get everyone together. It could be either our own from scratch, or we could satellite as a subgroup for another camp.

Please, everyone, I've been quiet on Tribe for so long, but I know you all are out there and want to play! Where are you camping? Wanna come with me?

affirmation

While I confess to enjoying recreational drugs from time to time, aside from pot (which is, after all, legal medicine :) I use them only rarely and with a great deal of consideration and respect. This includes alcohol, quite possibly the worst of the lot in many ways.

I've really grown quite sick in recent months of being around them constantly. I'm decided to forbid in my apartment, until further notice, any drugs aside from pot and alcohol without advance approval. Perhaps I'll do some when I'm elsewhere ( )'( ?), perhaps I'll change my mind (shrooms?)

But I'm tired of them at the moment, and particularly tired of people who put getting high first on their to-do list, and equally tired of drug dealers. I do like drugs, but I like life better.

space filling surface

I decided to set up my tent in my place today, partly to clean it and check for problems on case I go to Lightning In A Bottle, and partly just for the fuck-all joy of having a place big enough to do it. Heck, I could fit 2 more without moving furniture. There's playa dust everywhere.

burning man 2007 report

I've scrubbed the playa dust from my fingernails and wanted to share some of my experiences from this year.

It was strange this year - my second burn, so I can't say anything was "unusual" as I don't have a large enough sample. But for me, it was strange... it seems as if I hardly "did" anything this year, and I spent a tremendous amount of time in what one could charitably call meditation and introspection, though perhaps "freaking depressed" or "hiding out in my tent" would be more accurate.

This isn't the fault of the burn - as we all do, I have my own ongoing emotional issues, things that consume me no matter where I am - I write about those things more privately, but I can't really talk about my experience at the burn this year without touching on it. The crux of it in this case was that I spent quite a lot of time feeling either lonely, rejected or bullied.

I drove alone, camped alone, ate meals alone, entered the Man's circle alone and (despite my best efforts at manifestation to the contrary), left the circle alone (though I made a new friend). I was told to "go the fuck away" by egotistical velvet-rope bouncers while trying to fulfill an obligation to a friend - and returned later to scream and cry and go postal until someone gave me a hug; another time ordered to "give me one of your cigarettes" by a thuggish Ranger in the back of a pickup truck. My friends from last year were either absent, scattered too far to see easily, or their camps were too well hidden to find. I didn't have a shade structure to crawl to in the morning; my neighbors were quite sweet in sharing their space with me, but I didn't want to abuse that.

This sounds like I had a horrible time - I did not. If I'm to be sad, there is no better place than BRC; if I am there to process my pre-existing crap, then so be it, that is what I'll be there for. I need only see people crying over a lost loved one at the temple to be reminded that it's OK, that BRC is for all emotions and observances. Any sadness is overlain with an overpowering sense of joy and joy and joy upon more joy, that if there is a god that he would so suffer his children a creation that affords such extravagance.

Joy that I remember how to hurt at all.

I had more of a sense of being where I was supposed to be at all times to help others:

I was downwind of the Temple burn trying to get a kiss from one of the fire tornadoes, dissipating tantalizing inches from the edge of the spectators; Two pages of folded 8.5x11 notebook paper landed at my feet smoldering on one corner but otherwise unmolested. I picked up this packet to the beyond and opened it up enough to know it was a letter, but didn't read even a single character. It spoke to me nonetheless, and told me what it wanted. I fought all the way round to the upwind side, and when I told people around me "someone's letter came out and it needs to go back in" the crowd parted. It continued to smolder slowly and was more than half gone by the time I reached the edge of the upwind side; I suppose I could have left it where it was and it would have been consumed in its own time - but perhaps someone who couldn't hear what it wanted would have snuffed it out and read it. It wanted to go back. With a perfect heave I tossed it squarely into the blaze

A very drunk man, obviously not a virgin burner, was confusedly trying to figure out where he was on a darkened street, too wasted to parse the street signs. I shared my water and directed him home. His smile of relief when he got un-addled enough to make sense of things with my help was great.

A woman in the circle after the burn, wearing a top hat and a leather top with open breasts, seemed to be flirting with me - but I discovered that she wasn't flirting, she was just trying to get me to share my food. I gave her a Clif bar and went on my way. I wanted to go back and tell her she oughtn't flirt with people to get things, she should just ask for them, because some of us would very much like to be flirted with, and we get confused.

I helped hold down the Venice Vibe Tribe camp and keep it from blowing away. Well, I don't know how much my weak ass actually contributed to keeping their cargo parachute shade structure from flying away, but the Philip Glass I was blasting from the speakers strapped to my Camelbak made everyone happy, I got several compliments on the perfect music for the event - a surreal surprise whiteout threatening to suck us all into the air.

During another duststorm, I was holed up in a bedouin style tent in the red light district - low-slung, cool, and comfortable. I had slept there a few hours before the storm came. I put on my goggles, braved the storm to my place, and brought back a bag filled with snacks and stuff. I treated strangers to doritos, coke and mountain dew, tuna, meaty treats, and a touch of ganja.

I did a half-dose of LSD, my first time with that since George Bush, Sr. was president, and barely got off, handled it nicely, better than I had expected. Though I can't remember where we went that night? The day of the burn, in contrast, I had a teensy amount of psilocybin cubensis, ordinarily an amount I'd barely feel, and it hit me like a hammer in the heat, rainbows flickering in my closed eyes and borderline visuals with them open, I had to run to the air conditioned privacy of my car until I was past the peak. An earlier day, I had four or five shots of alcohol and immediately cursed the idea - who the fuck drinks in this heat? Everyone but me, apparently - I had hardly two more shots the rest of the week. Next year I think I might get properly drunk.

On the way out of town, a parachute came off of a vehicle, and three cars in front of me someone swerved to avoid it and lost control - their car did a full somersault horizontally across the oncoming lane coming to rest at the side of the road. I was one of the first on the scene, everyone got out and helped, every passing car wanted to know if the people were OK. The driver got out quickly, and we helped the other two passengers out. He had a huge gash on his hand. I gave a statement to the police. I don't know what purpose I had there, but it was where I was supposed to be. I helped gather some of their stuff that had flown out of the car, particularly bringing a passenger her camera bag and two nice looking lenses. I swiped one of her nail polish remover pads (yes, I asked, I'm not sure if she heard - thank you)

There were three interesting natural phenomena this year. First, a lunar eclipse, which was accompanied by a ceremony. Second, a rainbow, which I think is the first time a rainbow has been seen at Burning Man... but not just a rainbow, a full double rainbow, absolutely perfect, a full double arc. All I could think as I enjoyed the sight with breathless awe was "I am SO glad I left my camera in my tent." Finally, there was a meteor shower, I saw several of them - I heard this was the first time this particular meteor shower has been seen in hundreds of years.

The interesting news you might have all heard was about the arsonist burning the man on Monday. I had gone to the perimeter fence before the eclipse to look for the ceremony, but I got tired and decided to nap. I also went to the base of the man and touched it around then. Someone was leaning against the base of the man, and people were saying "are you going to do it for real?" Perhaps that was him.

In any case, I was sleeping in my tent when my neighbors woke me, "The man burned! Someone lit the man on fire, it's gone! They put it out!" Whoa. I gotta say, this really made me feel a bit 9-11. I didn't see it burn, but anyway, it was mostly just that the neon was destroyed. It was hard to find your way around town for a couple of days until they made a new one.

I'm still not sure how I feel about it - but the consensus amongst the older burners I spoke to was "hell yeah! Finally someone did it!" I heard the idea that the guy who did it should be un-banned, and the charges dropped, and bring him to center camp for a Q&A session - show the world a different way to resolve conflicts. Perhaps a spanking administered by a hot chick with a flogger? Burner justice :) I stood right behind the media tent during the proper burn, and I heard someone who appeared to be high up in the BM heirachy say something like "well, when [burning man mogul] Larry heard he said 'now people will know there IS a Monday!'"

They built a new one and it burned as planned. I got a wonderful souvenir - a 6" or so piece of green neon tube I pulled from the fire. I filled it with playa dust (mmm, use that as a condiment!) and closed it up with duct tape. I'm thinking I'll plug the ends better and dip them in green candle wax a bunch of times. That should make a really nice magic wand :)

I filled out a census form just before leaving, and asked several volunteers what they had heard about a people count. I was expecting 43,000 to fit the growth curve from previous years; the smallest official-sounding number I heard was 45,000+. That's a huge spike. With the additional 'real-world' press from the pre-burn, it should be an even bigger spike next year.. 52k? I wonder how big it can get? Can we get 200,000 people out there?

Stuff I scored:
* found while looking for my bike outside of a huge dome with beautiful aerialist performances and kicking music at 9:00 & Esplanade: A way nicer LED headlamp than the one I bought with 5 LED's and a chase pattern mode but a shitty headband, which is presumably why it was lost
* found mysteriously stuck to a post at my corner (5:00 & Habitat): a Camelbak brand cup with the bite valve and a big, strong, REAL carabiner, way nicer and bigger than the "breast cancer pink" cup I bought.
* found by someone else outside their camp and given to me: A big folding knife with a camouflage handle. I used to be sort of scared of knives until I got cut by a surgeon, but now that I have a scar, who cares. So, it's a pretty handy thing.
* given to me when I was dancing by the Krishna Kar near the temple by some guy who didn't seem to fit in: a surgical clamp, commonly used as a roach clip. The guy had a handful of them. Handy. BTW, Krishnas freak me out, but the free smoothies are nice and they REALLY make some KICKASS music!
* given to me on the last night, after the burns, while I was riding around trying to find my camp in spite of the lack of the Man or other lights, and all the street signs stolen: "Hey, you want a bike? It's practically brand new." It looked much smaller than mine, which was too big for Ragdoll when I tried to loan it to her a few weeks ago. I had a spare slot on my bike rack, so I took it home for her.

I didn't dance much... I wore the fat suit one night, but broke a fan blade (!!); then the next day I was inspired by a beautiful girl hooping, removing her top without breaking stride, and tried to execute some ballet 6 moves with my ballet 3 body and fucked up my ankle coming down from pas de quatre - twice! I limped for a few days and still have to be careful, but I was better enough by the end to dance a little.

I spent some time dancing to 1980's mashups at Booty, initially drawn by a mix of Vivaldi with Every Breath You Take (Police), continuing through Relax (Frankie Goes to Hollywood) mixed with Kiss (Prince). When they played Safety Dance with that song that goes "booty booty booty booty rocking everywhere", I thought "gee, two songs that both sucked when they came out and didn't get better" and moved on.

Another time, I was riding across the open playa and passed a flaming canopy with some people dancing under it to vaguely indian/techno music. I stopped, warmed up for a few minutes, and danced full out for only a minute or two before putting on my camelbak and moving along silently.

I entertained a crowd at the Deep End by pulling a condom over my head and inflating it - a must-see demonstration I do from time to time.

I can't remember much else of what I did... just little flashes come back here and there, like the moment I already thought my heart was about to explode with joy, and then just to kick it up one more notch, a dozen bicyclists rode by with matching trees full of dangling light, the lights on all the bikes synchronized by radio or something so all were red, then all blue, then white and top and green on the bottom - all 12 bikes as a single unit.

Or the moment when I was taking pictures by the temple and as I rode away... it seemed like I was in an area with nothing much to see, when suddenly six (or more?) skydivers swooped right over my head, landing a few hundred meters from me.

Oh!!! I just remembered this one, there was a guy with a kite made to look like a mouse cursor!!! Coolest fucking thing ever!!! I asked "how do you click," so he floated it over this chick's head to click on her. The lines of the kite seemed to disappear, and I felt like the world turned into a picture on a computer screen.

The monstrous fireball of the oil derrick burn, filling my entire field of view with a mushroom cloud - but a mushroom cloud that had a purpose and message, used to communicate and make art. Thousands of people who had moments before been pushing to get close and oohing over fireworks slowly stepping backwards en masse, wondering if it would be possible to run if this growing fire amoeba turned on them.

Riding on an unlicensed art car on the open playa, a woman came by with a HUGE pan of french fries - mmmmmm, I grabbed handsful, asked if it was OK if I had more and she said "sure, we brought 100 pounds of fries".

The ride home was particularly odd, including the accident I mentioned, plus a stop for a long train crossing the road - long enough to get out and buy a coke, my first usage of money in a week (I've decided that I don't want to ever use money at burning man, as a spiritual observance). I waited four hours in line, used the knife to trim the plug on my iPod adapter to use it on the iPhone and watched most of the movie 300 with the audio on the car stereo. It was worth getting out when I did though, because the oddest was that I went from the playa straight to work the next morning - while sleeping at a rest stop, I got an email about a Tuesday meeting with barely enough time to get there. I could have just taken it as a conference call, but I wanted to pick up my check anyway. I made it, a half hour late, showing up in my kilt, vibram shoes and nailpolish, unwashed for a week, and covered in dust. I used the remover pad from the accident to clean off my nail polish during the meeting. I scare my Orange County colleagues :) It's so strange to transition to the normal world, with buildings that aren't meant to move, filled with clean synthetic materials and carefully manicured air.

I had the strangest flashbacks last night, moments of half sleep when I open my eyes, and think I'm still home, still feel the hot bright sun. I suppose that's no surprise - my blankets, pillows, mattress pad all carry playa dust, still smell of home, which makes me happy.

When you go somewhere, like say Milan or Turin, when you leave you might think you want to stay. When you're back home, you wish you were there. That's one of the great things about Black Rock City, greatest city in the world. I do NOT wish I was back there - there's nothing much there now. Schroedinger's city - it's not there when you're not. How wonderful. All I could think riding around the last day was thank you god, thank you universe, thank you spirits that it will be there next year, and I will be part of it.

iSplash

Here's the wallpaper I made for my new iPhone.

Wow. This thing is perfect; it seems like alien technology that fell out of a timewarp from the future. Truly revolutionary. It restores my faith in humanity, that if we all work together and have vision and inspiration, we can do anything.

Let's call all the stuff that has happened in the cell phone industry in the last 7-8 years since I started in the field an abstract amount of innovation "X". X is seven years worth of innovation.

The iPhone is X all over again. As in, if Apple didn't step in, this is what Nokia would ship in 2014.

I'm so not joking, this thing actually scares me a little, like in the first movement of 2001. Seamless and smooth and perfect. It's like the Star Trek PADD, only smaller with a better UI and the weight of a finely made late 19th century machine. It has that classic feel like an old expensive pocket watch.

six word memoir

veni, vidi, vivi, delecti, deridi, dimitti

to to to

> On 6/7/07, {{this guy I went to high school with who lived in Aurora}} wrote:
> What is the one thing you’re most proud of?

Probably the fact that I've never stopped growing and changing. Several of the individual things I've done could comprise a top ten list, but so what, they're in the past - I'm most proud of continuing to look for something new.

acting to programming to fine art to computer graphics to inventing to internet to video to graphic design to wearable & ubiquitous computing to business development to writing to social policy to poetry to gaming to dance to improv to software publishing toexecutive-ing to (now) to robotics to music to cooking to the stars

> Any regrets? (as if.)

Sure, I suppose, times when I zigged when I should have zagged, sold instead of bought. Particularly in the romantic area, a perennial Achilles heel. But the bad and the good made me who I am, and I like who I am... e.g., I wish I hadn't had a scooter accident; but then again, I don't wish I hadn't ridden one.

one hand clapping

An open hand can mean so much, from an expression of need to one of hope, from a slap to a caress.