i didn't take any photos at all, or get any email addresses of any playa pals, or really bring anything else back home. i wanted to simply live in the moment, though i'm pretty sure i'll carry a lot of these memories forever. While I knew my body and brain would be wrecked, i wasn't prepared for the emotional impact of getting yanked out of BRC and deposited back into the regular world. i've cried, and i'm not quite sure exactly why yet, but I have my hunches. I am looking forward to going home, but I'm glad I have a couple of days to think and reflect first.
here's some random initial thoughts:
first impression:
no amount of planning, reading or video watching will really get you ready for the assault on your senses. The ground is weird. The art is weird. The people are weird. And it's all very big, and very bright, and very in your face. There aren't training wheels either, you pretty get get thrown straight into the deep end of the pool. "Intense" is an understatement, but it's also magical, beautiful, and really fucking fun.
weather:
freaky storms on first day were a minor handful, but the payoff was an epic double rainbow (!!!) followed by seveal days of dust free gorgeous weather. When the dust did come later in the week, it was at night, which was so eerie it was kind of awesome. Honestly had there been zero dust at all I would have felt a little cheated. Or at least like a poseur with dust masks and goggles as a useless fashion accessory. When the dust did flare up, it usually wasn't for very long, and even the heat was not unbearable. For as many warnings as I heard about it being so harsh, the weather was awesome, IMO.
drugs:
despite BRC officials and public message boards downplaying it as "just an element, like in any other city of 50,000 people" pretty much every one I encountered at any point was pretty much fucked out of their mind at any given point in time. I didn't want to mess around with worrying about things there, so I took measures to get my own stash there, and quickly met trustworthy neighbors who liked to trade and share. My overall MO was to do the bar thing during the day, and take some sort of psychedelic at sunset, balanced out by constantly munching mdma in the early morning hours. It was an interesting week, and I couldn't imagine repeating it again...for another year or so
wednesday with the furries:
wednesday was easily my favorite day; my eveningwear all week was a head to toe bunny onesie; it matched my white glasses, and people appreciated the squeaky tail that i had lit up with flashing LEDs. ANyhow, I saw there was a party called Frolic, thrown by a bunch of furries in their blacklit fur dome. I ate a bunch of mushrooms and molly and split off from camp on my own (this would be a reoccurring theme). The crowd was a mix of full on furries, weird hybrid ravers with furry accents, and the fur curious. I had no idea that furries tripped their faces off (though maybe this might just be limited to burner furries). The dome was smaller but awesome (again, a reoccurring theme), and the party spilled out into the intersection. I puked in my nalgene, danced my ass off, and generally had an epic evening. A bunch of people took their picture with me, and a pair of 50 year old topless german women tried to take me to their trailer. They take a lot of shit, but I'm not ashamed to call myself a firend of the furs- those dudes fucking party properly.
large scale sound camps (aka root society):
there are a couple super lavish, big budget "sound camps", and in my opinion, they fucking suck ass. The owners whine online about how BRC doen't support them, and how they are a big draw that makes burning man what it is, and blah blah blah. From my perspective, all they bring is large format bullshit. The crowd is noticably different (in a bad way) and they behave poorly. they litter and fuck up the porta potties ( i stopped in one on a slow night and someone had taken a huge shit ON THE CLOSED LID of the john- without toilet paper too, which is just fucking gross). To top it off, cram 3 stages in one camp and you get a muddy mess. I'm glad this was Root Society 's last year at Burning Man, they can throw crystal method concerts elsewhere.
on the other hand, I had night after night of amazing times taking side streets and stumbling in to random parties. I went to avery small party with maybe 20 people, and it was badass. for the first time, I "got" dubstep (which kinda seemed like the unofficial soundtrack to the whole event this year). Instead of a bunch of dudes slowly flailing about, the crowd here (a mix i'd prolly describe as punk-hippy-shaman hybrids) pretty much commanded my attention with the dancing. It was aggressive and sexy and larger than life. It was soaring and stomping and fierce and seductive. pretty cool.
solo on the sidestreets, cont.
Imagine taking 10 tripping friends to a carnival and trying to keep them all together. Exploring solo was my nightly pastime, and it was pretty awesome. One night I found a camp, comfort and joy, that had a neon garden, and this really cool walkway filled with rubbery neon strings backlit by blacklight LEDS. people could enter from both directions, and it was just a really cool, simply little trippy place to check out. They had a few other interactive things, and then I noticed a big pile of bikes in front of a tent. I locked up my bike and a couple walked by and said "bunny" in a firendly voice. Cool, i wander whats inside. a circle of like 10 chicks with dudes between their legs going down on them. oops. it was awfully inviting for an orgy tent, and I promptly left the premises. Nobody said anything, but surprisingly, sex was not on my mind at all in general, which is kind of surprising considering it's such a highly charged atmosphere.
there were a bunch of small random intimate moments on these late night jaunts through the streets of the city. Someone would come up behind me and squeak my tail, and then giggle and rub their nose on my nose and skip away. Or you'd simply stop in the middle of intersection with someone, look into each others eyes and smile, hug, and move on without saying a word. I loved all of these little interactions, which seemed to happen on a pretty constant basis until The Weekend.
The Weekend
When the weekend came, things changed. First, visibly. You can tell the people that show up on friday and saturday because they walk around fucking dark at night. All those leds, el wire, and glow sticks you see EVERYONE wearing? It's for function as much as fashion. Even crust punks and old hippies don't want to get t-boned on a bike or run over by an art car. There are no lights on the streets or open playa, and lots of moving parts and shooting flames. Only a fucking idiot would walk around unilluminated, and these idiots show up by the busload the weekend of the burn.It's annoying.
But more than being annoying, it changes the overall vibe.
For example, on burn night, I noticed that the women now walked around with a purpose, like in any other city, not stopping to talk to strangers, let alone look into their eyes and see if they deserved a hug or not. Everything seemed a lot more open, friendly, and community like during the week. I thought the burning of the man itself was petty cool, but overall as far as the whole social experience goes, tuesday and wednesday were way more awesome than friday and saturday.
theres a whole whole lot i haven't touched on, and even more I haven't fully processed.
I like your post and agree with most of what you said especially regarding the large scale sound camps and the darkwad weekenders. i have pretty bad night vision and i was nervous about hitting someone on my bike. For the safety of all concerned i walked on the nights i was tripping...
