I'm not going to say that the horse knew and I didn't; humans are more sensitive than we give ourselves credit for. We <i>know things</i>. The problem here is the internal clutter and the tendency to rationalize. I knew something big was coming up but I thought it was just Burn Night vibe.
And it was Burn Night. Time to trick ourselves out and strut. I'd have to saddle him first so he'll settle down enough for me to braid his mane and comb out his tail and feathers. So I went into the tack room of the trailer and got my trusty sidesaddle, and Tagie's beautiful Portuguese bridle with the copper bit, buckles and bosses. I hung them on the side of the trailer and took him out to groom him down.
He danced and pawed and joggled his head while I rinsed him down with water mixed with lime juice to cut the alkali. Kitty Fetelbaum perched in the window above us and maioued; he'd come along with us too because I didn't want to leave him alone on Burn Night. He'd ride in the mesh shoulderbag next to my side.
Tagie gave me a kiss as I saddled him up. He loves this part: it means we're going riding. He settled right down and I knelt to comb out his feathers. I sponged the dust off the EZ-Boots that protected his pasterns and frogs from the Playa; I trimmed the feathers a quarter-inch so they'll keep growing out. They're longer than those of his Friesian sire now, but I wanted to show everyone that Warlanders can get The Feathers. I was gathering the beads to do his mane with when a gentleman strolled in off the street, strumming a guitar and singing: <i>" I've been through the desert on a horse with no name/ It felt good to be out of the rain/In the desert you can remember your name/'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain/La, la ..."</i>
I smiled back at him and sang along. Tagie looked up and around, ears pricked: he loves singing people and he's heard plenty this week. The troubadour continued to sing and play to us while I braided his mane: continental, in a lattice that accentuated his cresty neck, with wine-coloured beads at every intersection...
Rapture
-
diane o'thirst
- Posts: 2092
- Joined: Tue Sep 09, 2003 5:04 pm
- Location: Eugene, OR
- Contact:
-
diane o'thirst
- Posts: 2092
- Joined: Tue Sep 09, 2003 5:04 pm
- Location: Eugene, OR
- Contact:
The troubadour said, "My name's Brandon." I laughed. "That's funny — you're the third Brandon I've met out here! I'm Wolfie, this is Meritage, and the cat's Fetelbaum."
It took a moment to sink in, and Brandon bust up laughing. Tagie tossed his head, pawed and harrumphed, flaring his nostrils and growling. "No, it's the <i>horse</i> that's named Fetelbaum!"
"Yeah, but he's never won a race," I smiled, and patted the great red shoulder. "He's a Deusenberg, not a Countach. The cat, on the other hand, is a <i>master</i> of getting the hekk outta there, fast!" Tagie indicated that he wanted to get done with the "pretty up the pony" shit and go adventuring; so I finished up buckling, filling water bags and spritzer bottle, bridling and collecting cat, and with the catful Sherpa bag under my left arm and sabre strapped on my hip, I swung into the saddle.
I'm afraid we lost Brandon at the Esplanade. There was altogether too much Playa for Tagie to contain himself; and while he's no racehorse, Brandon definitely wasn't. And there was the Man, beckoning; we like the Man. We love the Man. The Man goes sparkly-shiney and there are always lots of good people around it. We Must Go To The Man. I called an apology over my shoulder quickly as Tagie performed a mini-levade, launched and took off for the Man.
Canter is easier to sit than even the collected trot we'd been plying the spoke street with. He shied at the blazing burn platform a few rods out from the end of the street and I thanked Goddess for the secure sidesaddle seat. Tagie don't like fire. I intended to keep him well back in the crowd because fire ain't a case of the horse-eating bush: it really <i>does</i> eat horses and everything else with a heartbeat. Halfway across the Playa, though, I spotted the flames. Black flames. Eh? Something new this year...
Tagie was nervous but didn't stop moving forward. He wanted to see this, too...
It took a moment to sink in, and Brandon bust up laughing. Tagie tossed his head, pawed and harrumphed, flaring his nostrils and growling. "No, it's the <i>horse</i> that's named Fetelbaum!"
"Yeah, but he's never won a race," I smiled, and patted the great red shoulder. "He's a Deusenberg, not a Countach. The cat, on the other hand, is a <i>master</i> of getting the hekk outta there, fast!" Tagie indicated that he wanted to get done with the "pretty up the pony" shit and go adventuring; so I finished up buckling, filling water bags and spritzer bottle, bridling and collecting cat, and with the catful Sherpa bag under my left arm and sabre strapped on my hip, I swung into the saddle.
I'm afraid we lost Brandon at the Esplanade. There was altogether too much Playa for Tagie to contain himself; and while he's no racehorse, Brandon definitely wasn't. And there was the Man, beckoning; we like the Man. We love the Man. The Man goes sparkly-shiney and there are always lots of good people around it. We Must Go To The Man. I called an apology over my shoulder quickly as Tagie performed a mini-levade, launched and took off for the Man.
Canter is easier to sit than even the collected trot we'd been plying the spoke street with. He shied at the blazing burn platform a few rods out from the end of the street and I thanked Goddess for the secure sidesaddle seat. Tagie don't like fire. I intended to keep him well back in the crowd because fire ain't a case of the horse-eating bush: it really <i>does</i> eat horses and everything else with a heartbeat. Halfway across the Playa, though, I spotted the flames. Black flames. Eh? Something new this year...
Tagie was nervous but didn't stop moving forward. He wanted to see this, too...
[url=http://tinyurl.com/245sagf][img]http://tinyurl.com/2bbr28j/.gif[/img][/url][url=http://tinyurl.com/23753ws][img]http://tinyurl.com/2auqebj/.gif[/img][/url][url=http://tinyurl.com/m4y82q][img]http://tinyurl.com/l56rdn/.gif[/img][/url]
Settlers park
“Teddy foods about ready, you about done with the man?” “Yeah, if it works right when this cord burns threw the counter weights will raise the arms when it goes up in flames.”
Cole and Vlad already had there matching wedding dresses on and had dyed there hair red with orange tips. Marsha had on a red and black dominatrix outfit. Ted changed in the tent, and sat down to the meal with large curling horns, small leathery wings and fun fur leggings.
The little band of four stranded travelers had set up there camp just like they would have had they made it to Black Rock City. The dead Econoline on one side with a homemade canopy spanning between the van and the big cabin tent. A smaller dome tent and the enclosure for the shower and the little port-o-pottie were across the back. They didn’t bother with the evaporation pond, figuring the runoff wouldn’t hurt the overgrown mostly abandon settlers park. The park was seven miles down a dirt road by a closed bridge along a small creek. What farm houses they had passed on there way had long since been abandon.
When she was a teenage Marsha had been to a kegger at the park with her cousin who used to live in a small town ten miles up the highway from the turn off. Every one thought it would be a great place to camp a night on the way to the burn. When they had discovered the van wouldn’t start, and there was a thick tan paste on the oil dipstick. They resigned them selves to the fact that there trip was over.
Since they had all the supplies they needed they decided to spend the week in the park and have there own mini burn. After witch they’d ride there bikes to town where hopefully they would be able to rent a car or buy a junker to get them home.
On Wednesday a farmer in his late fifties happened by in his old pickup on his way to drop a line in the creek and drink a few beers. He parked by the parks drive, Ted went out to greet him. The farmer said, “ hey there” and pointed at the burning man emblem painted on the back of the van, “ what you burners do’en here aint you suppose to be in Nevada, gift economy right, here have a beer.”
The group invited him into there camp and told him of there troubles, and he told them about stumbling onto burning man on the web and had downloaded around two thousand pictures and looked in on e-playa every couple of days to see what was up. That evening John, the farmer brought his wife Tammy down with some kabobs to cook and share. John had on a loincloth and beads and Tammy wore a belly dancing outfit. It turned out to be karaoke night with every one singing, Tammy did a belly dance and tried to teach Vladimir and Marsha the basics.
The next day John shows up around noon with a dragon made out of welded together farm implement parts on the back of a flatbed. Tammy’s in back and fires off the flamethrower when they enter the drive. A friend of Johns fallows in one of those high clearance chemical applicator machines that’s had the tanks taken off and is made up to look like a big bug. Later the consolidated middle school art teacher and his family and three student teachers arrive with some twenty by twenty foot canvases and a whole lot of paint.
As word spread more and more people came out. Community College kids with there junkyard wars like battling remote controlled robots, a garage band that played Pretenders, Joan Jet, and B52’s cover songs. Nearly every one in costumes. Tammy’s dad a gruff old guy in his eighties dressed in an old evening gown, with a big hat, and kept rolling off May West one liners.
Late afternoon John spoke up, “ Not offence Ted but as big as this is gotten I think we need a bigger man than you made there. Some of us could take my brothers truck up to the land we got up the road and rip some lumber off fallen down corn crib and you could take another go at it.” He then took Ted aside, “ My brother Rob is a bachelor farmer if you know what I mean, and he don’t get much of a chance to spend time with folks like himself so I’d appreciate it if you get Cole and Vlad to go along. Maybe you should keep an eye on things here.”
Rob had been kind of hanging back from things and kind of a nervous, constrained, sad air about him. Ted agrees, when they return, with the lumber Rob seems a whole lot more easy going and light hearted. Just a couple of hours of companionship can work wonders sometimes. Ted was able to slam together the new bigger man complete with the El wire from the earlier version, in just an hour and a half with all the help. A Night of drinking, singing, dancing, bottle rocket fights, fortune telling, more drinking, story telling, skits, and general debauchery. All over seen by the glowing man. There were about twenty tents set up around the park and into the woods. A lot of the farmers had to leave to do milking and chores, some of them came back later.
Saturday got off to a slow start, but the emotions built, the anticipation, the sadness it would soon be over, the franticness to get the most out of the last day. And for the four stranded burners the melancholy thoughts of what they had missed and were missing in Black Rock City, conflicting with the amazing time they‘d had, and the great people they’d met.
More people started showing up, including a guy calling himself standard Sam, in a pickup with a home built hoist welded on the back with a ford V8 engine hanging from it, that he gifted to the travelers. Others gifted it’s installation.
Tammy’s dad parked up by the partially collapsed bridge. Reading aloud form his old WWII demolition manual like he was reading from the bible He directed the placement of charges along the steel framework of the bridge. a couple of High school guys were happy to climb around stringing the wires and strapping the dynamite where the old man told them to. Every one gathered around at probably not quite a safe distance. The old guy enjoying having the stage made a speech, “ The difference between men and boys ain’t the price of there toys, it’s the size of the noise.” at witch point he touched the wires to the battery of his truck, four loud explosions cut the girders and the bridge went crashing into the creek. The crowd roared there applauds, and he took a deep bow. He spent the rest of the afternoon with a group of young guys listening to his old war stories.
Tammy, Marsha, and a bunch of the women and girls disappeared around the back of the school bus camper parked by the park entrance. In a little while they all reappeared bare breasted with there tits painted in bright colors riding bikes they made a loop around the man in center of the park and back to the bus, laughing, and whooping all the way. After words they quickly came back from behind the bus wearing there tops, and had a few toasts to each other before they rejoined the gathering as a whole.
“Teddy foods about ready, you about done with the man?” “Yeah, if it works right when this cord burns threw the counter weights will raise the arms when it goes up in flames.”
Cole and Vlad already had there matching wedding dresses on and had dyed there hair red with orange tips. Marsha had on a red and black dominatrix outfit. Ted changed in the tent, and sat down to the meal with large curling horns, small leathery wings and fun fur leggings.
As it started to get dark, every one began to gather around the man. Little kids were twirling sparklers, a group of older kids moved from group to group gifting braided bracelets. Four girls did a flaming baton routine, three of them looked like sisters. A guy in his late teens ,early twenties, did some fire breathing, in a back and forth thing with Johns dragon.
It was time. Ted lit the fuse a ring of roman candles began shooting balls of fire up and with a small funt the base of the man burst into flames. As the flames rose the mans arms raised like they were suppose to just as he became fully enveloped in flame. Then from the bottom of the man black flames appeared replacing the normal fire. The man stood erect arms raised now engulfed in black flames. The crowd went quiet and every one began to feel this was some kind of magic, this was a portal of some kind. Maybe it is a portal to hell, but how could it be there is such a positive feeling, a love of sorts. There was black flame but no heat. Rod was the one who stepped up to the man, then with a large blowing the crowd a kiss gesture and a little wave to his brother he turned and walked into the flame and was gone. There was a long pause, a murmur, and about twenty people out of the three hundred or so fallowed. The rest had a very deep feeling of community as a family bound more tightly together from having witnessed this.
Cole and Vlad already had there matching wedding dresses on and had dyed there hair red with orange tips. Marsha had on a red and black dominatrix outfit. Ted changed in the tent, and sat down to the meal with large curling horns, small leathery wings and fun fur leggings.
The little band of four stranded travelers had set up there camp just like they would have had they made it to Black Rock City. The dead Econoline on one side with a homemade canopy spanning between the van and the big cabin tent. A smaller dome tent and the enclosure for the shower and the little port-o-pottie were across the back. They didn’t bother with the evaporation pond, figuring the runoff wouldn’t hurt the overgrown mostly abandon settlers park. The park was seven miles down a dirt road by a closed bridge along a small creek. What farm houses they had passed on there way had long since been abandon.
When she was a teenage Marsha had been to a kegger at the park with her cousin who used to live in a small town ten miles up the highway from the turn off. Every one thought it would be a great place to camp a night on the way to the burn. When they had discovered the van wouldn’t start, and there was a thick tan paste on the oil dipstick. They resigned them selves to the fact that there trip was over.
Since they had all the supplies they needed they decided to spend the week in the park and have there own mini burn. After witch they’d ride there bikes to town where hopefully they would be able to rent a car or buy a junker to get them home.
On Wednesday a farmer in his late fifties happened by in his old pickup on his way to drop a line in the creek and drink a few beers. He parked by the parks drive, Ted went out to greet him. The farmer said, “ hey there” and pointed at the burning man emblem painted on the back of the van, “ what you burners do’en here aint you suppose to be in Nevada, gift economy right, here have a beer.”
The group invited him into there camp and told him of there troubles, and he told them about stumbling onto burning man on the web and had downloaded around two thousand pictures and looked in on e-playa every couple of days to see what was up. That evening John, the farmer brought his wife Tammy down with some kabobs to cook and share. John had on a loincloth and beads and Tammy wore a belly dancing outfit. It turned out to be karaoke night with every one singing, Tammy did a belly dance and tried to teach Vladimir and Marsha the basics.
The next day John shows up around noon with a dragon made out of welded together farm implement parts on the back of a flatbed. Tammy’s in back and fires off the flamethrower when they enter the drive. A friend of Johns fallows in one of those high clearance chemical applicator machines that’s had the tanks taken off and is made up to look like a big bug. Later the consolidated middle school art teacher and his family and three student teachers arrive with some twenty by twenty foot canvases and a whole lot of paint.
As word spread more and more people came out. Community College kids with there junkyard wars like battling remote controlled robots, a garage band that played Pretenders, Joan Jet, and B52’s cover songs. Nearly every one in costumes. Tammy’s dad a gruff old guy in his eighties dressed in an old evening gown, with a big hat, and kept rolling off May West one liners.
Late afternoon John spoke up, “ Not offence Ted but as big as this is gotten I think we need a bigger man than you made there. Some of us could take my brothers truck up to the land we got up the road and rip some lumber off fallen down corn crib and you could take another go at it.” He then took Ted aside, “ My brother Rob is a bachelor farmer if you know what I mean, and he don’t get much of a chance to spend time with folks like himself so I’d appreciate it if you get Cole and Vlad to go along. Maybe you should keep an eye on things here.”
Rob had been kind of hanging back from things and kind of a nervous, constrained, sad air about him. Ted agrees, when they return, with the lumber Rob seems a whole lot more easy going and light hearted. Just a couple of hours of companionship can work wonders sometimes. Ted was able to slam together the new bigger man complete with the El wire from the earlier version, in just an hour and a half with all the help. A Night of drinking, singing, dancing, bottle rocket fights, fortune telling, more drinking, story telling, skits, and general debauchery. All over seen by the glowing man. There were about twenty tents set up around the park and into the woods. A lot of the farmers had to leave to do milking and chores, some of them came back later.
Saturday got off to a slow start, but the emotions built, the anticipation, the sadness it would soon be over, the franticness to get the most out of the last day. And for the four stranded burners the melancholy thoughts of what they had missed and were missing in Black Rock City, conflicting with the amazing time they‘d had, and the great people they’d met.
More people started showing up, including a guy calling himself standard Sam, in a pickup with a home built hoist welded on the back with a ford V8 engine hanging from it, that he gifted to the travelers. Others gifted it’s installation.
Tammy’s dad parked up by the partially collapsed bridge. Reading aloud form his old WWII demolition manual like he was reading from the bible He directed the placement of charges along the steel framework of the bridge. a couple of High school guys were happy to climb around stringing the wires and strapping the dynamite where the old man told them to. Every one gathered around at probably not quite a safe distance. The old guy enjoying having the stage made a speech, “ The difference between men and boys ain’t the price of there toys, it’s the size of the noise.” at witch point he touched the wires to the battery of his truck, four loud explosions cut the girders and the bridge went crashing into the creek. The crowd roared there applauds, and he took a deep bow. He spent the rest of the afternoon with a group of young guys listening to his old war stories.
Tammy, Marsha, and a bunch of the women and girls disappeared around the back of the school bus camper parked by the park entrance. In a little while they all reappeared bare breasted with there tits painted in bright colors riding bikes they made a loop around the man in center of the park and back to the bus, laughing, and whooping all the way. After words they quickly came back from behind the bus wearing there tops, and had a few toasts to each other before they rejoined the gathering as a whole.
“Teddy foods about ready, you about done with the man?” “Yeah, if it works right when this cord burns threw the counter weights will raise the arms when it goes up in flames.”
Cole and Vlad already had there matching wedding dresses on and had dyed there hair red with orange tips. Marsha had on a red and black dominatrix outfit. Ted changed in the tent, and sat down to the meal with large curling horns, small leathery wings and fun fur leggings.
As it started to get dark, every one began to gather around the man. Little kids were twirling sparklers, a group of older kids moved from group to group gifting braided bracelets. Four girls did a flaming baton routine, three of them looked like sisters. A guy in his late teens ,early twenties, did some fire breathing, in a back and forth thing with Johns dragon.
It was time. Ted lit the fuse a ring of roman candles began shooting balls of fire up and with a small funt the base of the man burst into flames. As the flames rose the mans arms raised like they were suppose to just as he became fully enveloped in flame. Then from the bottom of the man black flames appeared replacing the normal fire. The man stood erect arms raised now engulfed in black flames. The crowd went quiet and every one began to feel this was some kind of magic, this was a portal of some kind. Maybe it is a portal to hell, but how could it be there is such a positive feeling, a love of sorts. There was black flame but no heat. Rod was the one who stepped up to the man, then with a large blowing the crowd a kiss gesture and a little wave to his brother he turned and walked into the flame and was gone. There was a long pause, a murmur, and about twenty people out of the three hundred or so fallowed. The rest had a very deep feeling of community as a family bound more tightly together from having witnessed this.
