Posts Tagged ‘blinky lights’

Cool Air

March 2, 2016

Sweet jasmine.

The air rushed over me and the lush, intoxicating, syrup of jasmine blew in through my nose and bloomed over my heart.

The smell right now is insane and gorgeous and cool delicious.

It makes the ride home so good.

The day went fast and I am excited for tomorrow.

Date night.


Wednesday is not a typical night for me to go out on a date, but this just happens to be when we can meet and that’s probably for the best, I’m going to be in it for school this upcoming weekend.

I have two papers and I’m deep into the reading.

I got a lot of it done, but there’s still more to do and I have to go have my experiential exploration.

For my Multi-Cultural Counseling and the Family the class has to go somewhere outside of it’s comfort zone, culturally.

I am planning on going to the big Chinese super market in the Inner Sunset and attempting to buy some groceries.

Although I don’t need them, I need the experience of being out of my element in an environment where I don’t know what’s happening, or can speak the language.

I’ve had the experience before, being somewhere and not knowing the language or how to get around, but we have to do something locally, something uncomfortable and the grocery store came up as I had the experience trying to shop there when I first moved out here.

I was absolutely flummoxed.

I just wanted some apples and I saw some in the bin out front of the store.

But nothing was in English, nor did any one in the store speak English and the signs were not in English and I was the only person in the store who wasn’t Chinese.

It was surreal.

And amazing and scary too.

The unknown.

It always is.

Putting myself out into unknown spaces, trying new things, meeting new people.

Being vulnerable.


I believe, in that space, that vulnerable space, when I let myself be seen, there, just there, in that flame of light, I am somehow more known, and more loved and more open to being a human being having this oh so human experience.

Grateful for every last succulent bit of it.

Even when it’s uncomfortable.


What a gift, annoying, difficult, wonderful, amazing.

Learning, showing up, being new at something, growing.

All the things.

All the things I need to get for Burning Man!


That’s where my head went to last night as I started to make the budget in my head, the spending plan, the, yes, I am going to have awesome amenities, but fuck, I don’t have a blow up mattress, lent that to a girl friend few years back and I don’t think it made it off playa alive.

So new blow up mattress and some bedding, I’m not willing to sacrifice my lovely sheets or pillows to the playa, but some sort of bedding must be had and pillows and maybe something soft and furry.

I have two soft fluffy throws I’d be willing to bring out there–as they both went out last year and actually made it back and were not really much worse for the wear once I threw them through the wash.

It was super cold last year at night, however, and so I’m thinking another snuggly blanket may be necessary.

I should go through the bins and check out what I need to get.

I loved having a shoulder harness last year, but I think I lost a rivet on one of the arms and a strap is loose, sure I could get that fixed, it was better than the utility belt scenario that I have had for a few years.

Not that I won’t bring that belt, it still got used, but I like having something smaller and lighter on me and a shoulder harness was nicer for that.

Goggles are good, I still have a fairly new pair from last year.


Always on the look out for a better pair of boots.

Last year I just bought a cheap pair that were on sale and ditched them when the event was over, just tossed them right in the trash.

I may do that again, I may upgrade and just see about having a good solid pair that I take back out there again.

I mean.

I’m sort of a Burner for life is how I see it.

Maybe some day, I’ll say, hey, enough, enough with the hot and the dusty and the blinky blinky and the hippies and the burniform and the misconceptions that everyone else in the world has about Burning Man and I’ll just stay home.


Not this year.


I’ll happily pay for another ride on the merry-go-round of “funishment.”

There is just something about the whole damn thing that gets me right in that sweet spot, my dusty little heart, the high skies, the colors of the sunset, the being there, so there, that there is no where else to go or be, just there.




A little list will be started.

I won’t have to put together as much as I did for last year since so much is being provided for me, but I do believe that I should go through my stuff see what may need replacing or augmenting, upgrading, or if there are any little additions that will just make me happy to have and thereby a better experience for me.


I need a new parasol.

Not sure what I did with the one from last year, but I’m pretty sure I left it hanging off the back bumper of the Flash trailer I was crashed in.

Mary Fucking Poppins has to have an umbrella.

That’s just the rules folks.

So many exciting things in my life.

So much life in my life.

I’m happy.

Really happy.

And it just so happens that was my spiritual principle to practice today.


It’s a good one.

And I am definitely right there in the middle of it.

The middle of the boat.

Right smack dab.

In love with my life.





Home Again, Home Again

September 4, 2012

Jiggedy jig.

Slowly re-entering the atmosphere.


I woke up from my nap and my first thought was, “fuck, it’s a white out.”

The blinds in the house were pulled, cream-colored blinds, and the sun was filtering softly through the air, all I could see was white and cream and sunshine.

My next thought was, “where are my slippers, I need to go to the potty.”


I don’t need slippers, I can just get up and get off the couch.

Secret sauce.

I have not done a lot of getting up off the couch.  I rather knew this might happen, so I did the work that needed to be done before I lay down.  I also was not going to lay down on my hosts beautiful leather couch with my dusty playa self.

Despite being apparently quite cute.

For Oakland anyway.

I got flirted with at the Lucky by two different men.

What’s up Oak Town.

I looked cracked out, or so I thought, and I felt mentally addled.  Fuck, I still feel mentally addled.  How is it that I was completely competent less than twenty-four hours ago, working, grooving, shaking, getting it done, and now I am mental nincompoop.

My brain was left on playa apparently.

Then again, I did not get much sleep.

Not much at all.

After the Man burned on Saturday, best man burn I have yet to see.  And my third, yes third, time in the inner circle, I ran out and about with my new friends–Dubble, Jazz, and North.

Dubble works for the Artery and is the manager responsible for making sure all the art installations on the playa are properly lit.

Remember boys and girls to wear your blinky lights, don’t be a dark wad!

Gah, I hate blinky lights, but you really have a hard time seeing out there, there is no ground light.  Granted, there are camps and areas that have lighting, people do hump in generators, but for the most part, Burning Man at night is a dark, mysterious proposition.

One in which you may fall into the arms of a delicious stranger, or run your bike into the guard wires for an art piece and get your poor self strung the fuck up and yank right out of your seat and scarred for life.

See Mrs. Fishkin’s arms from last year.

Not fun.

See also the ranger that ran right into the guard wires for an art installation that was not properly lit.  Dubble intercepted the call on the radio, I had happened upon him as I was making my way out to the Office for Action Girls birthday on Thursday of the event, and he dashed off to investigate.

The art piece had long guide wires to secure it in heavy winds and the lighting was not sufficient, if you happened to be riding blithely along in the dark headed out to the Temple, you would not have seen it, and insert Ranger, you would run into it.

Dubble yanked a large batch of assorted battery operated blinky lights out of the back of the golf cart, started up a small generator that was hidden on the site and lit the piece up.  Then he jumped in the cart and sped across the playa to where the artist was camped, roused a group of them out of their tents, and got them back to the piece to properly illuminate it.

That was just one of many lights that I watched him place.

I don’t often think about the work that is involved with making Burning Man happen, until I was right there in it.

I have volunteered at Center Camp Cafe and made coffee–tip those baristas people, they bust their asses!

I have nannied–do not ever condescend to the playa nanny you boob, one of the hardest most isolating jobs ever.

I have now fluffed–ice, ice, baby. Heave and tote, service that golf cart, zip here and there, run and fetch.  Fluffers are hard workers, you should see what they do for DPW. This is not a light job, despite the “cute” name for it.

Speaking of names.

I may have actually gotten a playa name–Mistress of all Things Good.

Quite a mouthful, but I like it better than my handle on comm–yes, I had a radio for the first time this year–Mama.

I did not choose that, it was given to me by Juno and Schaasfma.

Oh, I get it, I am maternal, but it feels a little inauthentic when I am not a mother and I don’t know that those are the kinds of shoes I can fill.  I am not Mama Grace and I certainly am not Crunchy Mama, those ladies have shoes I do not even know how to fill.

Although, I got to get some sweet acknowledgement from Crunchy despite my total ineptitude on comm one evening.

Erica and I were out in a dust storm the night the Anubis piece burned.

Anubis Pre-Burn

Anubis Pre-Burn

Anubis Burns

Anubis Burns










And as we were wheeling about on the golf cart, we came across a man passed out on the playa.

No lights, except a faintly glowing raver stick wrapped around his neck, no shoes, no socks, no coat, no water bottle.

Assed out on the playa.

I asked if he was ok and he was obviously not.

I called 911.

“Where are you?”

Fuck if I know.

I am totally dyslexic, it’s a white out, and I had just climbed Star Seed, a 40 foot sculpture

Star Seed

Star Seed

by Kate Raudenbush, so I was a wee bit exhilarated and scared too, I did not want to fuck up on comm and I wanted this kid to get taken care of.  I was not going to leave him to be trampled by the exodus of people who were going to be making their way from Burn Wall Street (yuck, I did not like that piece) to the Anubis Burn.


“Repeat where are you?”

“Uh, shit, um, somewhere between Kate Raudenbush’s bush and Burn Wall Street, next to the Lollipops.”

Oh fuck my mother.

Did I just say I was by Kate Raudenbush’s bush on comm for the entire Media Mecca team to overhear?


Yes I did.


One of many verbal faux pas I made on playa this year.

Erica just about peed her pants laughing later as we were re-playing the series of events from the on comm verbal diarrhea to the response from the guys at the Bureau of Land Management (God, they were sweet, funny too, although they came across as gruff at first, it was rather hard to take that seriously when they were draped with Mardi Gras beads and they gave us temporary tattoos of Sheriff Star badges), “we’re by Kate’s bush and the Lollipops!”


The people at the Bottle Cap Gazebo gave us a wide berth we sounded like we were high as kites, but it was just the adrenalin.

There is so much more I want to write about tonight, but as the clock ticks forward and my body gets more and more used to being out of the altitude and in the Oakland, I am growing mighty, mighty weary (I only drove through the night, leaving playa at 8:30p.m., three-hour exodus, drive to Reno, no hotels, sleep in rest stop in the Sierras for three hours, drive to San Francisco, drop off Juno’s aunt in the Mission, drive to Oakland, get totally lost, get unlost–thank God for Google maps on my Iphone, go grocery shopping at Lucky, get to Grace Land, unload van, do three loads of laundry, unpack from playa, put away all playa gear in basement after sorting, cleaning, and organizing, take hot shower, eat bowl of cereal, make bed, call off work tomorrow, take shower–oh my God–take nap, wash more laundry, try to get off couch, fail, snuggle with kitties).

Can’t imagine why I am exhausted.

A cup of tea, an apple, an early night.

On a king size bed with fresh sheets next to a vase of flowers I picked from the garden.








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