September 12, 2008 by PT Rothschild.

“THE SOCIAL HUB OF THE UNCIVILIZED WORLD”

Black Rock City, Nevada – Though there is much to do and even more to see, with art being presented everywhere and in forms more unique than rare, BRC is a city of, and for, a very unconventional society. We, well three of us anyway, were ‘virgins’ to the Man. We had no perceived notions except to think of going to a camp, to camp, that’s why we had gotten our own food and water. We looked so cheery and cheeky when we arrived at the front gate, ready to take on ‘the Man’. We might have been ‘The Three Amigos’ plus the two previous burners, one of whom came to the ‘burn’ like it was his birthright. This karma would later cost him time, effort, and a cool fire staff (see preceding story).

Though I would lose my serape (yes, that one) to a girl named Shar from some town named Auburn, I would have to put that loss down to one shot too many instead of bad karma. But I did notice a definite magical spin to things in my life in the days leading up to leaving for the ‘burn’. So it came as a pleasant continuation of this ‘magic carpet ride’ that after being rejected from our first camp site address as not being ‘theme’, we landed at ‘the social hub of the uncivilized world’ or uncivialized as is spelled on the nifty patches we received from Jermo and KB, the kingly crew of Coffee Camp, and were ‘scene’.

Jermo explained apologetically that the typo of the word was probably his fault for not paying more attention to the proof before production. But, he added, the misspelled word more fit the reality of the place. When he said it, I wondered why. A day later, I knew exactly what he meant.

So we settled in with Kristen and her flight suit, Jermo in his see-through pants, and KB with the sunshine Ray-bands. All these guys were veteran burners, and added to the creative atmosphere of the place, though they had ‘day jobs’ back in the Default World. This was a trend that I was to come across in camp after camp, except for the musicians. It was here around the Coffee Camp crew that we were first greeted with “Welcome Home.” A strange term at first thought, to be sure, as you are in an unfamiliar location, in a harsh setting, and among thousands of strangers, all who are partying in one form or another. But then the unfamiliar location becomes an ‘island world’ all off to itself, a flat white saucer surrounded by mountains that are at least ten miles away. The harsh setting begins to work its magic in bonding the city’s inhabitants together in a melting pot using a dressing of refined dust. When you stir in the absence of money, the use of ingenuity aka ‘MacGyver-ism’, coupled with the Second Commandment as put forth by Jesus, add the liberation of real freedom, and before you know it, a ‘Family of Man’ ethic kicks in.

Suddenly the last place (besides the Arctic) that you’d pick to live in by yourself is the place where you’re free to be yourself with others. It’s as if you and fifty-thousand of your closest friends stepped out from underneath the World’s cloak to stand before God, completely stripped from the Systems of Mammon’s Organizations. You may not call your next door neighbor ‘brother’, ‘Bro’, or Comrade, but the feeling is that, if he (or she) is out here too, enduring as you are, and choosing to be, then he is your brother because he also sees all the bullshit there is to the World, the Default World, as it is known around these parts, pardner, and is dressing accordingly to have a good time. It’s the feeling of being a part of a clan, this time ‘a chosen from the world’ kind of clan, with a clue and no klux.

You are among people who have chosen to cast aside the World for one week so God can see that we are, some of us, as He made us, creative, able to live together and function, heck!, thrive, through the soul’s enrichment from varying works of art. We can party and not become drunkards or assholes. We can love one another simply because we are all one race – human. And although the Devil rules the roost until the Second Coming, we all have not buckled under or forgotten our common humanity or lust for life and the pursuit of happiness. We can use the forces of metaphysics for entertainment and wonder but not build altars to them. We can respect our bodies and be proud of how God designed us at the same time.

Since the word ‘money’ appears in Genesis (17:12), evil and corruption have been around in the world for a very long time. The species may be stained but not all the stock has been poisoned. It took another ‘man’ named Larry Harvey, a tall gentleman that you can still see around BRC if you know where to look, to gather a few friends and ‘burn’ the Man down back in ’83. (Presumably after Reagan’s ‘Star Wars’ program and the government’s veering away from using alternative power sources or legalizing hemp (and pot) use in the early 80’s.)

By 1986, Burning Man started in earnest and officially at Baker Beach. In 1990, it was moved to the wider expanses of the Black Rock Desert. As the burning event of ‘the Man’ is political as well as artsy, that influence is found on the art floor on a grand scale. To live in such an environment, filled with marvel and surprise during the daylight, and lighted theatrics and parties at night, adds an imaginative air of delightful and sensual fun, at once comfortable and comforting.

A seventy-five page booklet you receive in your ‘welcome home’ packet lists events, workshops on everything except antiquing, places of interest, and things to do. In actuality, you would need a month to do everything listed in the week, and probably six months to really cover all the streets, side shops, theme camps, and bars that abound in BRC. Burning Man is Summer Camp on steroids and spinach but it doesn’t thrill everyone that comes there. However, to experience how life could be, as John Lennon imagined it, well, that wasn’t a discouraging word to be heard, not at this, my new home, home on the range, Black Rock City!

To be continued…

Next. Holy Ecstasy Batman, I’m In Love With A Man, A Burning Man! (Tuesday)

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September 12, 2008 by Matt Pierce.

Black Rock City, Nevada - No, I’m not talking about a day where you go out and hump things.  That would be what happens to some people after massive amounts of rum (K.B.)  I left off around Sunset on Tuesday last time, and this is where this crazy story in the center of Bat Country truly begins.  Myself and Captain Tuesday went out on the town that night, as Tuesday night was the ranger social at the 3:00 ranger station.  So, we set out early and stopped to enjoy whatever we saw out on the open Esplanade.  The first exhibit that we saw was on the esplanade lane not too far away from where we had turned the corner on 8:00, was a large holo cube thingy.  I don’t know what it was called, I just knew that my pupils weren’t small enough for me to ride in it (although the operators said differently.)  So, we hung out for a few minutes and had a cigarette with one of the operators, and it provided for a good laugh.  We had pictures of this, unfortunately, the camera disappeared later in the night, and alas, we never did find it.

Farther along the esplanade, myself and the Captain realized why we liked burning man so very much.  We actually agreed on something for once!  I know, this doesn’t sound like anything special, but for those of you who have actually met us, you know we never agree on anything.  For some bizarre reason though, out there it was the total opposite, as if the fates had conspired for the both of us to go home this year (and by home, I mean Black Rock City.)  We laughed like the half drunk playa cruisers we were on our way out to the man that night, stopping at every art station we could find in between.  After what seemed like most of the night (which in reality was probably only about a half hour or so,) we finally made it all the way over to the 3:00 plaza and the ranger station within.  We ran into Sasquatch first, over by his bus.  He directed us to the trash can that was full of beer (yaaaay! beeeer!) and then we found seats and had a nice chat with Rangers Beauty, Lady Frog, Sasquatch, and Magpie.  It was Magpie’s first year as a ranger and only the second year on the playa.  To her, I raise my glass and salute.

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After we had a few beers in our systems, myself and Captain Tuesday set out for center camp.  Now I had this genius (*note: sarcasm is to be noted) idea to walk across the unpacked open  esplanade.   We finally made it to center camp after what seemed like eternity (and trust me, our feet were feeling it,) and finally got to sit down.  I must admit, although it was much more painful to sit down and take the weight off of my feet, it felt so nice after doing playa seal training on the long walk there.  Now this is where the sad weepy part of the story takes place (not for me mind you, see my last post.)  I found a very funny thing in center camp that night, and it hangs on my fridge at this moment.  It was a picture of Dick Cheney with his normal scowl (personally, I don’t think its physically possible for that man to smile,) and he had left a very nice note.  It read “Hey burner, go fuck yourself.” I got a nice laugh out of it, and of course had to take it back to camp to bring home with me.  I drank whatever drink I had in my water bottle with Tuesday as we relaxed in center camp.  I lost my water bottle that night, but hey, its just a nalgene.


Earlier in the day, at I’d say about 11 in the morning, Tuesday went to a fire staff making class.  He made what looked like an awesome staff (and trust me, I wanted to light it up.)   While we were at center camp that night, I left before Tuesday did as I was about to pass out in the seat there.  Tuesday said he left about 20 minutes after I did, and made it about a block and a half before he realized that he had forgotten his staff (NEVER leave a fire toy unattended at Burning Man.)  By the time he made it back to where he had left it at center camp, it was gone, never to return.  The next morning, once Tuesday woke up, he proceeded to tell me of his epic fail.  I informed him of my opinion, but assured that I would help him try to find it throughout the rest of the week.

Soon after my conversation with Tuesday, I found myself in the center of a fucking reptile zoo.  And somebody had coated everybody with dust!  This was truly a journey to the savage heart of the American dream.  I found affirmations of everything right and true in the American dream, but that dream is only for those with true grit.  And I assure you, I am fucking chock full of that man!

In the next issue: Mongoose remembers exactly why the fuck he went to this super harsh desert environment.

Until then, my quote for Wednesday:

“The Playa wookie is real!!!!”

Burn, Baby, Burn

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