burning man 2011: addenda
September 19th, 2011
.::. previous .::.
- the WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE guy. we had a burn barrel in camp, which people would gather around especially in the pre-dawn hours when it was cold. and one dawn there were 10-11 people hanging out, and the sun came up, and everyone was jovial and chatting. our village had a lot of people in it and so i didn’t always know everyone hanging around. and so it was sort of weird when suddenly, a burly dude who’d been there for quite some time, talking, just chillin’, suddenly, in the morning light, freaked out a little bit and in a lull in the conversation, looked around and very startled said “WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE? HOW DID I GET HERE? HOW DOES EVERYBODY KNOW MY NAME? WAIT….WHO are YOU?” over and over again. we started asking him questions and it became apparent that this tripper dude had taken something unknown earlier in the night and the last thing he remembered he was at his camp, which he knew where it was, but now at dawn he finds himself sitting around in our camp, with no idea who any of us are, or how he got there. he then became agitated because he did not have his backpack, which he maintained that he NEVER took off, barely even to sleep, so where is it? he got up and stumbled away and we wondered for a brief second if he might be a narc? but determined that, nah. after a while he came back and sat down, and sort of glazed over and looked at the fire. and then, a few minutes later, this happened again. WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE? WHO DID I GET HERE? WHERE IS MY BACKPACK? and then he relayed that the reason his backpack was so important, besides all the basic burning man things inside, was that there was a book inside, given to him by the “woman he will love for the rest of his life”, who had written an inscription to him, and he really, really needed that book. he was distraught about this. i felt sad for him. he got up and wandered off searching again, not taking our suggestion that probably, most likely, his backpack was back at his own camp. i hope he found it.
- it’s a standard burning man lost tripper story, but it stuck with us and now, kind of like quoting the “WHAT DOES IT MEAN??” double rainbow guy, we will just randomly say “WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE? HOW DID I GET HERE” whenever it is even mildly funny.
- the movie theatre at the orange fence, which is a fully functioning movie theatre that seats….20? 30? and only shows movies in the middle of the night was showing this old Veronica Lake film “Sullivan’s Travels” (1941), for which we got in only to see the last ~1 minute. but turns out, the last one minute of that movie is TOTALLY APPROPRIATE for burning man. plus they give you free candy!
- —–>CANDY POCKET.
- +a little more on me not being able to deal with being at the Temple. i think the thing that i have to admit to myself is that i am terrified of people dying. terrified. in a way that seems somehow almost phobic. like i can’t. even. think. about it. i did not go to the only funeral of someone close to me that has happened in my adult life, partially due to cost/travel but also partly because i felt like i would have just been a horrible, sobbing mess of a burden on everyone around me. it was hard not to go to my beloved grandmother’s funeral, but at the time it seemed impossible and so much harder to go than to not go. like i could not possibly go. and it’s not just people i love, although that is really traumatic of course, but like i said – my heart broke open reading any of the inscriptions/memorials there at the temple, for complete strangers. and probably, that Thursday morning when i left because i didn’t want to cry as hard as i would’ve cried if i had let myself, i should’ve let myself. i should’ve let that go through me. because some day…..
- people keep asking how was it? and i keep finding it hard to answer. fun! of course. DUH. i mean, obvi. but underneath the fun i think the reason i keep going back is because it forces me to face a lot of myself that doesn’t get exposed very often. here we have built castles around us, living in our bubbles, our bell jars. there, your castle walls crumble, and on the other side is a huge mirror. who are you, really, when exposed? how do you react to sleeplessness, pain, stress, hunger, insecurity, desolation, attachment, love, joy, ecstasy, mania….to your mortality, to death?
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he did find his backpack. later in the week he came over to the Institute again and i checked.