The L-AF camp AKA the Lazy-Ass Fuckers is (are) (be) looking for some for folks. We are a camp made up of formers solos (soli) who have become the unlikeliest of friends and family, boys and girls, children of all ages - except no actual children in the sense that our youngest was 18 - though some of us were very childlike, though our oldest was 72 (though we were shocked - SHOCKED - when he told us as we all thought he was in his 50s.)
Where was I? - Oh yeah - Our camp last year was a raging success and we think - believe and know that we can expand a bit and add a few more. So if you're heading up by yourself, or with a loved one (or someone you just kind of dig) or a friend or so - we may be the camp for you. We certainly are the camp for us. You know?
http://www.artpacific.com/burningfriends.html
Going alone?
It's Thursday...
It's Thursday and I've been out in the sun too long. I'm having chills and stomach cramps and any little piece of sun that hits me feels like two thousand degrees. I’m drinking water like a fiend but it tastes like metal and slides down my throat like ice and stabs my gut like thumb tacks. My camp mates are mostly there and I haven't told them. They must just think I'm cranky, pissed at something, tired - not abnormal on the Playa. I don't think any of us slept much the night before.
We're right on a main street and people keep stopping by. We're a gregarious bunch today. The inhibitions of our first timers are dropping away. They came clad in shorts and t-shirts, today they wear skirts and sarongs. The guys I mean. The girls have their things going, stretchy silver, black vinyl, skin, henna. I’m an old-timer (for our group) and I feel I’ve left my inhibitions in Gerlach. We shout out greetings to passersby. Some stop, some wave, some are beautiful, funky, punk rock geishas. The guys I mean….
I just sit there watching it all, hoping I don’t pass out and gradually I feel better. I’m still not talking much but my mind is racing, my heart is thumping and I’m falling in love with all my friends. The snow cone machine starts. I get up and add a bottle of bourbon to the flavors on the table.
A beautiful couple we don’t know collapse on the inflatable couch. It seems to be losing air. The girl is beautiful, dark, wearing something black with gold chains. The boy is handsome, his hair dyed blonde, dark roots showing. He has horns spirit-gummed to his forehead and furry chaps.
We adorn them with our insignia and for a few minutes they become friends. As they get up to leave the subject of ass comes up as it often does in our camp, being named what it is named and we show off to each other. The girl turns her boy around and shows me his ass, “Isn’t it beautiful,” she says and I, in a kind of heterosexual panic say, “I wouldn’t know.” He frowns, disappointed and as they leave I wonder about that. The truth was I think it was a pretty nice looking ass. And the truth is, I could have told him that. It’s Burning Man for fuck’s sake.
Maybe I’ll have to spend a little more time in Gerlach next year.
We're right on a main street and people keep stopping by. We're a gregarious bunch today. The inhibitions of our first timers are dropping away. They came clad in shorts and t-shirts, today they wear skirts and sarongs. The guys I mean. The girls have their things going, stretchy silver, black vinyl, skin, henna. I’m an old-timer (for our group) and I feel I’ve left my inhibitions in Gerlach. We shout out greetings to passersby. Some stop, some wave, some are beautiful, funky, punk rock geishas. The guys I mean….
I just sit there watching it all, hoping I don’t pass out and gradually I feel better. I’m still not talking much but my mind is racing, my heart is thumping and I’m falling in love with all my friends. The snow cone machine starts. I get up and add a bottle of bourbon to the flavors on the table.
A beautiful couple we don’t know collapse on the inflatable couch. It seems to be losing air. The girl is beautiful, dark, wearing something black with gold chains. The boy is handsome, his hair dyed blonde, dark roots showing. He has horns spirit-gummed to his forehead and furry chaps.
We adorn them with our insignia and for a few minutes they become friends. As they get up to leave the subject of ass comes up as it often does in our camp, being named what it is named and we show off to each other. The girl turns her boy around and shows me his ass, “Isn’t it beautiful,” she says and I, in a kind of heterosexual panic say, “I wouldn’t know.” He frowns, disappointed and as they leave I wonder about that. The truth was I think it was a pretty nice looking ass. And the truth is, I could have told him that. It’s Burning Man for fuck’s sake.
Maybe I’ll have to spend a little more time in Gerlach next year.
It was Sunday
It was Sunday and a lot of people were gone. The camp next to us had finally taken down the $2,000 geodesic dome they’d brought with them. They had melted down as a camp earlier in the week. Two of them came over to us on Wednesday, offering food they didn’t need because they were leaving. They were from all over and most of them hadn’t met until they’d arrived in Black Rock City. Our camp arrived under similar circumstances, though a few of us were friends from last year, and things had turned out remarkably better.
One of our members had medallions made up for our camp that we had been giving out all week. They were popular. More than a few people came to track us down and ask for one. We’d given out a lot, but it was Sunday and we had about 100 left. A group of us decided to hit the Playa and hand them out to people we felt were true citizens. We wound up in Center Camp playing an interesting kind of scavenger hunt. I would tie a string on a medallion and hand it to one of my camp mates, “give this to someone with purple hair.” I’d string another and hand it off, “give this to a man in dress.” Another, “give this to someone with the most beautiful tattoo you can find.” After a while it was hard work trying to think of someone who might stand out as different. It was a wonderful time for them and for me.
As I stood there, stringing medallions I must have been quite a sight. I was wearing a short sarong and a straw sun hat. And that was all. I was dusty and my skin was dark from a week in the sun despite all the sun screen I’d gone through. I’d shaved off the sides of my beard turning my goatee into a Van Dyke and I think it was wild, matted with dust and sticking out in all directions. I can’t really say I smelled all that good either.
I’ve always been a shutter-bug and Burning Man has provided me with some of my most beautiful photographs. Taking pictures at Burning Man is an odd thing. Are you invading someone’s space, are you infringing on their experience, are you a pervert if naked girls get in front of your camera? I try to tread lightly, asking where I can before I shoot someone. In any case, my Burning Man pictures are mine. I share them with friends but they don’t go beyond that. We have a camp web site, but I don’t post any online that would harm anyone in the default world.
I had spent a lot of time thinking about taking pictures and was comfortable with myself taking them. So it was kind of odd when I noticed a girl shooting a picture of me. Now I’m not – I don’t think – the kind of guy girls run around taking pictures of , especially pretty girls like she was – but there I was and there she was and there was her camera. You could tell she was a starry-eyed first timer. Dressed the way you might dress for a day of site-seeing in Paris or Rome, but with a wide-ness of eye more appropriate for tourist on Mars. I watched her and caught her eye as she lowered her camera. I was smiling at her and she smiled back. I waved her over and gave her a medallion and a kiss. We chatted for a few minutes and then she went on her way, taking more pictures, meeting more people.
One of our members had medallions made up for our camp that we had been giving out all week. They were popular. More than a few people came to track us down and ask for one. We’d given out a lot, but it was Sunday and we had about 100 left. A group of us decided to hit the Playa and hand them out to people we felt were true citizens. We wound up in Center Camp playing an interesting kind of scavenger hunt. I would tie a string on a medallion and hand it to one of my camp mates, “give this to someone with purple hair.” I’d string another and hand it off, “give this to a man in dress.” Another, “give this to someone with the most beautiful tattoo you can find.” After a while it was hard work trying to think of someone who might stand out as different. It was a wonderful time for them and for me.
As I stood there, stringing medallions I must have been quite a sight. I was wearing a short sarong and a straw sun hat. And that was all. I was dusty and my skin was dark from a week in the sun despite all the sun screen I’d gone through. I’d shaved off the sides of my beard turning my goatee into a Van Dyke and I think it was wild, matted with dust and sticking out in all directions. I can’t really say I smelled all that good either.
I’ve always been a shutter-bug and Burning Man has provided me with some of my most beautiful photographs. Taking pictures at Burning Man is an odd thing. Are you invading someone’s space, are you infringing on their experience, are you a pervert if naked girls get in front of your camera? I try to tread lightly, asking where I can before I shoot someone. In any case, my Burning Man pictures are mine. I share them with friends but they don’t go beyond that. We have a camp web site, but I don’t post any online that would harm anyone in the default world.
I had spent a lot of time thinking about taking pictures and was comfortable with myself taking them. So it was kind of odd when I noticed a girl shooting a picture of me. Now I’m not – I don’t think – the kind of guy girls run around taking pictures of , especially pretty girls like she was – but there I was and there she was and there was her camera. You could tell she was a starry-eyed first timer. Dressed the way you might dress for a day of site-seeing in Paris or Rome, but with a wide-ness of eye more appropriate for tourist on Mars. I watched her and caught her eye as she lowered her camera. I was smiling at her and she smiled back. I waved her over and gave her a medallion and a kiss. We chatted for a few minutes and then she went on her way, taking more pictures, meeting more people.
It was Sunday
It was Sunday and a lot of people were gone. The camp next to us had finally taken down the $2,000 geodesic dome they’d brought with them. They had melted down as a camp earlier in the week. Two of them came over to us on Wednesday, offering food they didn’t need because they were leaving. They were from all over and most of them hadn’t met until they’d arrived in Black Rock City. Our camp arrived under similar circumstances, though a few of us were friends from last year, and things had turned out remarkably better.
One of our members had medallions made up for our camp that we had been giving out all week. They were popular. More than a few people came to track us down and ask for one. We’d given out a lot, but it was Sunday and we had about 100 left. A group of us decided to hit the Playa and hand them out to people we felt were true citizens. We wound up in Center Camp playing an interesting kind of scavenger hunt. I would tie a string on a medallion and hand it to one of my camp mates, “give this to someone with purple hair.” I’d string another and hand it off, “give this to a man in dress.” Another, “give this to someone with the most beautiful tattoo you can find.” After a while it was hard work trying to think of someone who might stand out as different. It was a wonderful time for them and for me.
As I stood there, stringing medallions I must have been quite a sight. I was wearing a short sarong and a straw sun hat. And that was all. I was dusty and my skin was dark from a week in the sun despite all the sun screen I’d gone through. I’d shaved off the sides of my beard turning my goatee into a Van Dyke and I think it was wild, matted with dust and sticking out in all directions. I can’t really say I smelled all that good either.
I’ve always been a shutter-bug and Burning Man has provided me with some of my most beautiful photographs. Taking pictures at Burning Man is an odd thing. Are you invading someone’s space, are you infringing on their experience, are you a pervert if naked girls get in front of your camera? I try to tread lightly, asking where I can before I shoot someone. In any case, my Burning Man pictures are mine. I share them with friends but they don’t go beyond that. We have a camp web site, but I don’t post any online that would harm anyone in the default world.
I had spent a lot of time thinking about taking pictures and was comfortable with myself taking them. So it was kind of odd when I noticed a girl shooting a picture of me. Now I’m not – I don’t think – the kind of guy girls run around taking pictures of , especially pretty girls like she was – but there I was and there she was and there was her camera. You could tell she was a starry-eyed first timer. Dressed the way you might dress for a day of site-seeing in Paris or Rome, but with a wide-ness of eye more appropriate for tourist on Mars. I watched her and caught her eye as she lowered her camera. I was smiling at her and she smiled back. I waved her over and gave her a medallion and a kiss. We chatted for a few minutes and then she went on her way, taking more pictures, meeting more people. My friends came back and we handed out more medallions.
One of our members had medallions made up for our camp that we had been giving out all week. They were popular. More than a few people came to track us down and ask for one. We’d given out a lot, but it was Sunday and we had about 100 left. A group of us decided to hit the Playa and hand them out to people we felt were true citizens. We wound up in Center Camp playing an interesting kind of scavenger hunt. I would tie a string on a medallion and hand it to one of my camp mates, “give this to someone with purple hair.” I’d string another and hand it off, “give this to a man in dress.” Another, “give this to someone with the most beautiful tattoo you can find.” After a while it was hard work trying to think of someone who might stand out as different. It was a wonderful time for them and for me.
As I stood there, stringing medallions I must have been quite a sight. I was wearing a short sarong and a straw sun hat. And that was all. I was dusty and my skin was dark from a week in the sun despite all the sun screen I’d gone through. I’d shaved off the sides of my beard turning my goatee into a Van Dyke and I think it was wild, matted with dust and sticking out in all directions. I can’t really say I smelled all that good either.
I’ve always been a shutter-bug and Burning Man has provided me with some of my most beautiful photographs. Taking pictures at Burning Man is an odd thing. Are you invading someone’s space, are you infringing on their experience, are you a pervert if naked girls get in front of your camera? I try to tread lightly, asking where I can before I shoot someone. In any case, my Burning Man pictures are mine. I share them with friends but they don’t go beyond that. We have a camp web site, but I don’t post any online that would harm anyone in the default world.
I had spent a lot of time thinking about taking pictures and was comfortable with myself taking them. So it was kind of odd when I noticed a girl shooting a picture of me. Now I’m not – I don’t think – the kind of guy girls run around taking pictures of , especially pretty girls like she was – but there I was and there she was and there was her camera. You could tell she was a starry-eyed first timer. Dressed the way you might dress for a day of site-seeing in Paris or Rome, but with a wide-ness of eye more appropriate for tourist on Mars. I watched her and caught her eye as she lowered her camera. I was smiling at her and she smiled back. I waved her over and gave her a medallion and a kiss. We chatted for a few minutes and then she went on her way, taking more pictures, meeting more people. My friends came back and we handed out more medallions.
It was Wednesday, a great day, windy, dusty, one of those white-out days you dread. CLose the doors, zippers, rainflys. It's gonna be a dusty one today, folks. As I sat with my friends, we took turns catching the flying debris and helping the lost wait out the wind. From the camp behind us, we could hear a faint yell, panic mostly, tough to hear with the wind whipping. The neighbors camp was blowing down, NOW. Their construction just was not something that you'd want in the desert winds. Hard lesson learned.
We jumped and helped, braced, pulled, cut loose, and attempted what salvage was possible. Yes, vehicles were damaged, but drivable. Our campers were injured, but have since healed. Tents and gear were crushed, but we shared and survived. What a great bunch of people, friends I have. I will always be grateful to this group for the community we created, and the friendships that have remained.
And then.... our campmate returned from his exciting ambulance ride to Reno on Thursday. The snowcone machine was cranking, and life was good. Yes, the same Thursday that RJ was speaking of. And it, too, was a great day.
We jumped and helped, braced, pulled, cut loose, and attempted what salvage was possible. Yes, vehicles were damaged, but drivable. Our campers were injured, but have since healed. Tents and gear were crushed, but we shared and survived. What a great bunch of people, friends I have. I will always be grateful to this group for the community we created, and the friendships that have remained.
And then.... our campmate returned from his exciting ambulance ride to Reno on Thursday. The snowcone machine was cranking, and life was good. Yes, the same Thursday that RJ was speaking of. And it, too, was a great day.
"the early bird may get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese"