Ants In My Pants


One more day.

One more day.

One more day.

I have one more day of work before I am officially out the door and headed to the playa.  Oh, man, was today long.  And slow.  I was actually grateful when the mail man dropped off a stack of bills from a number of vendors.

It gave me something to do.

I needed the distraction.  I needed to keep myself focused and put in the work.  My brain really wants to be out in the dust.

Oh, the dust.

I got a message from Megan today asking me to bring a dust pan and a little broom.  “It’s really dusty,” she said.

You may laugh, but I totally know what she means.  Some times a little dust pan and a small broom can be a helpful little tool.  I know I have liked having one around just to sweep off surfaces that accumulate the ever-present playa.

I got my hands ready, flexed so to speak.  I sat by my friend Matt and gave him a little hand massage.

I gift massage at the event.

I have all my supplies ready to go–one jar of virgin coconut oil, one tube of coconut and papaya hand cream, and my two very strong hands.  There is just something about connecting with another human and hand massage is so primal and to the point.

It’s not sexual.

Although it can be very sensual.

It creates a bond, a connection, a few minutes of relaxation and ease and suddenly some thing opens in me, something opens in the person whose hand is in my hand and a lovely connection is born.

It is one of my favorite things to do on playa.  It also, oddly enough, is a good stress release for me.  It centers me and calms me and gives me a purpose.

I expressed to Carolyn that I was grateful to not be working quite as much as my previous years on playa.  Yet, also quite grateful for the structure of the time I am working.  I like structure, I like balance, I like grounding.

I need it.

I need boundaries for myself.

Which, odd as this may sound, allows me to get outside myself, get crazy and be a little wild.

See blue hair.

I tried on my Hello Kitty Sleep wear last night, and why have I not worn a Hello Kitty pajama set before?

Damn they are comfy.

And dare I say, rather cute.

Sexy too, but who’s telling?

Not I.

Sex is on the brain.

Then again, when is it not?

I have no limitations to my experience this year.  Last year I was hell-bent on Calling in the One and I did not sleep with anyone or really flirt.  I had one innocuous date, which in hindsight was rather sweet, but to be honest, I never would have ridden in Critical Tits if I had not have been hanging out with the guy.

Not really my scene, Critical Tits.

I like them in a bra.

I was trying to express to some one that I don’t necessarily go out and source a bunch of sexy clothes.  I just wear a little less of what I normally wear.  And maybe  a little more make up.

Actually, that is not true, I wear about the same amount of make up.

It did not seem out of the ordinary with my candy bright hair today.  I was at Rainbow after work and the doing the deal and there was a little girl, about eight, in one of the aisles that I was hustling through, grabbing last-minute food for the next day–but not too much since I am moving out too.

“You look like Katy Perry!”  She said, with big round eyes, “are you Katy Perry?”

I said, “no, but thank you for the compliment,” and I smiled at her and went to get some more coconut lotion.

“Mama, I think that was Katy Perry,” I heard her say in a loud whisper as I rounded the corner.

Not Katy Perry, although she camped near me last year.

Not that I could have even told you it was her or if I saw her or not.  She could have been sitting next to me and I would not have known.  Other celebrities I have apparently been around and had absolutely no clue who they were.

Everybody’s the same when you are covered in dust.

God damn I am excited.

Of course, I am sure once I am wiping out dust from every nook and cranny I will have a moment of what the fuck am I doing, then it will pass.


I am almost home.

One more day of work.  One more day.

I have to admit, it feels really strange of late, going into work.   It feels so transient since I told the boss man I am leaving.  I still have not really said anything to my co-workers, except Carlos, but we have not had much of a chance to chat about it.

Yes, definitely distracted.  Too many things on the mind.

Thinking about the boy who reconnected with me last night and who I rather shamelessly flirted with.

What’s up with that?  I feel like this is a distinct pattern, right around a big move I suddenly have dates lining up or romantic interest expressing interest.

I am just shook up enough to let down the walls I suppose.

I would like to keep those walls down.  I would like to have some experiences.

Oh, who the hell am I kidding.

I just want to get laid.

That being said, I think I want snuggles too, sleep, falling into another’s arms.

Burning Man can actually be a lonely place.  A place of introspection.  A place where I will look outside myself to find something to be disappointed that there is nothing there to find, but striped down to the essential mess of me, I do find it–within.

The light with in shines brightly.

That may be what attracts the men folk.

Who knows.

I am just going to say yes to experiencing instead of saying no, instead of putting parameters on anything.  I think I have had to have both experiences out there.

I bet there’s a balance to it, I may find it.

I may not.

But I am one day closer to finding out.


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2 Responses to “Ants In My Pants”

  1. RyanC Says:

    You really only find it when you aren’t looking for it. Be careful and have fun.

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