Posts Tagged ‘dr seus’

Where The Hell Was I?

January 12, 2012

Me and God

Quiet time

I just laughed out loud after I posted this comment to a friends photo on her Facecrack page.

I was at Burning Man.  Land of 50,000 + people and things to see.

For a moment I was incensed.  What an awesome photo, what an amazing piece of art, so freaking cool, why wasn’t I there to see it?  This makes me chuckle, or like I just said, laugh the fuck out loud.

There is so much to see and do and feel and be that there is no way in hell you are going to see and do and feel all of it.  I just watched the video that has been recently making the rounds–Oh, the Places you’ll Go–based on the book by Dr. Seus, with “regular” folks from the Burning Man community narrating the story.

I watched it with a co-worker and was just enthralled.  It was so sweet and so true and so spot the fuck on.  He’s thrown his hat into the lottery as well as his girlfriend’s name, neither have been, and he was just enraptured.

After the video had stopped playing I had stepped back and was nonchalantly wiping off my glasses while he was talking about how he accidentally got on the Bay Bridge one day and wound up at Treasure Island on a day the art team for Bliss Dance was working on the sculpture, this kid’s already got the vibe, when he suddenly looked up at me.

“Are you crying”?

I smiled.

I had been just a little.

The video made me homesick, of all things.

And then I laughed, as I realized that just enough time had passed for the weariness and the dust to settle out of my system.  Just enough time had gone by to wear down the frayed edges and smooth over the bumps of the last time I had been to make me just nostalgic enough, ready to once again to contemplate that great haj into the desert that is Black Rock City.

There really is nothing else like it.  And the fact that the person who is my boss now is the person whose camp I first stayed at on playa is pretty ridiculous.  If you think about it.  But logic does not apply to Burning Man.

It should.  It really, really, really should.  But it doesn’t.  You can be prepared as all get out and something unpredictable will happen and things will get thrown up haphazardly into the air and when they land you will not know which way to turn.  And you will feel lost and alone.

Then some one will walk out of the night and envelope you in a hug and tell you it’s alright.

Or you will run into some one that you did not even know was coming running naked across the playa at 7a.m. in those weird little five-fingered shoes and nothing else but a smile.

You will see a gorilla and a space bunny get married at the end of a wooden pier at midnight while their friends yell huzzahs in the back ground and fire dancers spin poi.

You will find a hammock when you really just need to lie down.

Or you will exhaust yourself, eat a lot of dust, sit on something really wrong in the port-a-potty (or worse yet, get stuck in one while that damn person who rigged a greeting card battery happy birthday card with Casablanca playing in the background tinkly and tiny wheedles its melody into your brain for the rest of the night), or you will break up with your girlfriend, boyfriend, best friend, life long soul mate, and you will run out of ice, and you will get garroted by some one’s tent line that didn’t el wire it at night, or you will gash your leg on rebar that is just jutting out of the ground unprotected, or get to close to the Car-B-Que at Gigsville and some jack ass throws in a tank of something combustible, or you get med-flighted to Reno and it costs you $10,000 for the ER to tell you you’re dehydrated, or your camper starts on fire in the Sierra’s, or your engine blows, or you forgot to bring water, oops, or you did not really take the suggestion about rain gear seriously (really, it does and has rained and it gets gross fast), or you forgot your sunblock and your ears have blisters on them, or you did not realize how fucking cold it can get at night, or you are abducted by an art car and you end up miles away from home and it’s lonely out there in deep playa.

Or.

You will forget it all.

I promise.

It is like labor pains, if I can make that comparison without actually having been in labor, you forget.  You remember the beauty.  You remember playing pirates with the J.bug on the Narwhal, or meeting Mrs. Fishkin for the first time and going to L’homme Flambe for the finest French food on the playa, or when you danced all night long to Kid Hack playing the really late show at BMIR radio and you were in the dj booth, or you got to go to the inner circle and watch the man burn, or you put make up on the guy who runs Man base, or you see the sunset or the sunrise, or you give some one a hand massage and they become a puddle of love at your feet, or someone comes up to you and delivers a blue raspberry sno-cone out of the proverbial air, or you climb to the very tippity top of an art sculpture and it’s you and nothing else but the stars and the most amazing light show ever, ever, ever, being put on in front of you, or you get the Zoetrope moving and suddenly everyone can see Charon crossing the River Styx, or you drink a coconut water cold, ice-cold, that some one has left by your door, or you give away your favorite gnome to your favorite new friend, or you get to fly in an airplane with a virgin, or you just sit.

Quietly by yourself, at Star Fuckers cafe, and watch the clouds blow across the sky and there is nothing but you, the sun, the playa, the wind and God.

And yeah, you might have tears in your eyes too.  And you will forget the hardship and you will pull out your little notebook of tricks and say, this year I will bring my electric tea-pot and this year I will bring more socks, and this year I will buy a case of coconut water and this year I will find that cool blinky, flashy, whatchamacallit light, and this year I will make art, love, friends, music, family, magic.

This year I will go to Burning Man.


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