September 9th, 2002

PRELUDE:

I have been up all night writing... i couldn't stop. I didn't realize how wiped out i was until i tried to stand up to go get some water and nearly fell over... but the whole time i was typing, i was carried by some other energy that had to be expressed... and had to come out. I cannot face work and "mundane world influences" until i have finished honoring what the past 3 weeks have been for me. You do not have to read this. But i had to write it to you. I hope you will forgive the verbosity, the misspellings, and the license i am taking by naming some of you - you are tattooed on my heart.

INTERLUDE:

Deidre was contacted by the crazy truck driver, Chris, yesterday, that he lost one of her Sirens off the back of the truck...yes, LOST. like maybe it did a backflip off the back end of the trailer and started humping an RV somewhere this side of Reno ? he recovered her head . . .He is working with CalTrans on finding the rest of her...

Then this lovely woman drank a couple of beers, mourned, and cooked us a fantastic pasta dinner after we finished all we could do for the night in the UNBOXING of the truck... there is more to go, tonight. But most of it is done.

Pray for either recovery or a fat insurance settlement for Deidre. The latter might be rather nice, actually. Break a leg, baby, on your interview today, too :)

'LUUD:

ok, the story, in 27-part harmony, with music courtesy of my iPod and the images courtesy of you...

The last three weeks were An Adventure. Actually, ADVENTURE should be in all-caps - some of it in a Robert Louis Stevensonesque way, and some of it in the way the Playa has of making you reorganize your cellular matter.

Before i left, one of my clients at work asked when he should contact me after my vacation ... "How long does it take you to recover from BurningMan?"

"I haven't recovered from my first one yet."

We got back this morning, Sunday the 9th, at 1:30 AM ... The We going out was DJ, Gordon, and me, and we added Darling Niki to our posse coming back.

Most people think the ordeal was in the travel... not so. That was an adventure. The real nastiness is too sordid and boring to tell. Shortly, the week we were packing, i slept about 4 hours in 6 days - literally. I had an almost complete psychotic breakdown from chemically assisted sleep-dep, coffee intake that gave me migraines coming back down to my normal daily 2-cups-before-noon-intake, and some more evil additives i have learned to steer clear of. The third day i met with visual, and the aural hallucinations followed the next morning. I saw every sunrise and sunset. I watched the moon grow full. Wednesday was DJ's and my 18-month anniversary. Thursday was his birthday, Friday he broke up with me. And who could blame him. I was a shambles.

I still managed to work like a dog packing the 18 foot box truck completely to the top, with Super Power help from both Gordon and DJ at intervals, and a heroic appearance by Dave Murphy who resolved the issue of motorcycles and storage by building little containers and shelves OVER the bikes. Another miracle was Antoine and a crew of his English visitors who showed up just as i was about to cry - again - when it was clear Justice would not fit on the box truck with the poles taking up 2 precious feet of space on the lift gate. They picked her up and popped her in and we padded both Justice and Mercy with all of the soft fluffy things we could muster.

Mercy is Justice's new stable mate, same type of bike and a year younger, i scored for $200. DJ intended to fit Mercy out as a Chupa_COW_bra on the Playa, and he was already on board, due to a little stunt daredevil riding i did off the loading ramp at PDI (who did Shrek) in Palo Alto, which involved jumping a bit of gap with about two inches between my knee and the left side of the truck and STOPPING before i creamed into some stuff in the truck. It worked perfectly. One of my highlights of the week :)

I slept a few hours on Saturday while DJ finished his packing. Then we finally got everything in, including the freezer, and took off on Sunday morning.

I talked things out with DJ and although he said he did not want to break up with me now, he wasn't sure how he felt for the long term, and he had some things to process. As did i.

I was bruised and battered and cut and beat to fuck before i ever started the trip. And i learned some very important things. The hard way.

I drove DJ and myself in the Jeep, towing GuacaMesa, our camper, whilst Gordon, who is Only A Lad, manhandled the Leviathan up the steep grades of I-80 thru the Sierras, thru two breakdowns. We left at 11 AM on Sunday and rolled into HappyL&nd at 4 PM on Monday. It was pretty much an endurance course. But nothing like packing for 6 days without enough sleep. Have you noticed that i name everything?

The first breakdown was shy of Vacaville and evoked a Polynesian long-haired, tattooed angel with a CHP tow truck who pointed out that the truck had died due to the cables coming off the clamps of the battery. He joked with me about Fords, showed me how to shim a wire in a lose clamp with a piece of steel wire and a hammer, and told me his nickname on his island he was from was Mickey Mouse because he was always micky-ing around with stuff. He cheerfully set about getting us back on the road by re-clamping the cables, which had now ALL fallen out of their clamps, No big deal, except there was a second ground because the truck was originally rigged for two batteries, and when he went to attach it too, with the red-painted negative wire, the terminal clamp EXPLODED, leaving molten slap on the battery. He rigged something temporary, and told me where the nearest auto parts store was so i could get a battery clamp. When i was there, getting the clamp and attempting to put it on the cable using the battery shim technique he showed me, he materialized *again* and helped me out, and then drove off with a wave.

My mantra after i realized i was very very close to not being OK at all, became - with varying success - Mind Over Matter ... If you don't Mind, it don't Matter. This got me thru the last two days of packing, when i finally did get some sleep, and this kept me laughing when i heard Gordon's frustration over the TalkAbout when he had to pull over in the truck again. It was also a reminder the second mechanic worded, after i told him even the breakdowns were a wonderful experience and how much i appreciated magicians such as himself giving me his knowledge.... this after i cut 7 inches of rubbed and holed radiator hose off of the overheated beast and reclamped it up and out of the way of the voracious fan belt. In the dark. And after we dumped $30 of coolant onto the side of the road in the middle of the night because we couldn't see that the hole had emptied it, not the excursion up the less steep of the two steepest grades on the Sierras, on the way up to the crest at Nyack.

Once we finally hit the Playa, we were home, and home is, well, Home. It's beautiful, it's alien in it's familiarities, it takes liberties, it doesn't say please or thank you, it's dangerous, it fucks with your perspectives, it creates new ones and takes those and dashes them too sometimes. It leaves scars. It sticks flowers in your map gun. It brings you iced shrimp cocktails and Hagen-Daz during a whiteout and provides dome tents with trance music and hippie drugs and keeps your glow sticks glowing long after the sun has begun boiling it's path across the sky. It gives you sunsets you will never capture in a Kodak moment. And will etch your memory with the Playa Crack of EL wire animations. God i love that place.

I tried to get the showers and ship up to shape. Deidre and her krewe were slaving out in the dust epoxying those big beautiful busty babes, her Sirens. And she really really deserved a shower. She was always gorgeous, cheerful, and warm as she returned from her grueling work and donned her gowns for the nights; rampages. I looked for Snook. He wasn't on radio. He had moved his camp. I had Hephaestus give him a message in the commissary at dinner time. The next day I sent him a postcard. Yes, a postcard. Cute boys wearing winged helmets and sandals arrived at my camp while i was making coffee, bearing postcards to me from a few of my friends out in other camps on the Playa. So i began sending some off myself. The following day, I left a message with his girlfriend. I sicked Rangers on him for trumped up offences so that someone would track his happy ass down and let me know ... heh. Futility.

I spent many trips over the first couple of days driving Justice to DPW to negotiate for some work for the ship. And water for our shower.

I went to Dan Das Mann and pleaded for water, and his water container, which is supposedly for HappyL&nd too. He was using it to water the lawn on the Last Stand, but he gave us a 55 gallon drum and sent his water connection over to fill it. It didn't last the afternoon ... I continued to search for Snook and tried to bribe DPW, through Psycho, who is someone i've known for a while, and subject to flattery, as all of us Freaks are... it didn't work. Not even gushing over her new pyro gunner car ( does *everyone* in DPW want to be like Deathguild ?) or commiserating with her about her power mongering steel-fisted control over every favor that comes over the radio. I watched as she suddenly decided Dan was on the Black List, and somewhat arbitrarily decided not to send him a desperately needed Heyster to off-load his sculptures for his project. I argued on his behalf. I mentioned that LadyBee hadn't granted us any money either, and that it made pulling off something really insane and beautiful horribly difficult. That last bit got me Circus Tym and Hephasestus -- she had Tym over at HappyL&nd in his Bobcat before i roared back up on Justice ! After her shift, I drove back over there with ice cold beers. I sent Hephaestus, who's a local, home to his wife with Jim's 12-pack pack of beer his first taste of ex. He said he had almost but not quite given up drugs. I said BurningMan was the right kinda place to put your toes back in the water.

I eventually tracked down Snook and Sprocket (who had lost her DPW laminate already), who explained that the Bordello line was closed by the Project. Snook gave me a big bottle of Aveda shampoo that someone had left his running board during their shower dash... that was my best Playa Score. But i thought we might have to save it until we got back to civilization. Water was becoming a very scarce commodity. They cut Dan off the next day. That would have been Friday. That was the day that Jim went out to joust the Boom Truck. He didn't realize that his oponent had a Narwhale until it punctured his radiator. He says i gave him the 5 gallons of drinking water that Gordon, DJ and I had, to put into his radiator. I said i would never have done that, especially since it was 5 gallons for 3 people for what might be 5 days more. He told me he would go into Gerlach and get us water, if i could help find him some acid base solder to fix the radiator. So i returned to DPW. And i returned with the acid base, and he fixed the truck. We snagged one of Dan's HUGE water containers. now dry, and Jim came back later that day with water for showers for everyone ... for the night of the Burn!

Ahh, luxury. Clean hair. See? Jousting Jim loves you . . .

After CircusToy Tym who only got his drivers license this year, expertly weilded a bobcat to drill 4 foot holes into the playa at 25-degree angles for the Swiggin from the Riggin in less than 30 minutes, after the DPW's Hephaestus 220-welded the 4 puppet poles into a 3-masted schooner wreck for the cold beer that earns them the monicker Drunk People Welding, after gorgeous night drinking at the Duck and watching the performance art that was the bartender and then leaving on Justice, tripping and woozy on mudslides to go running amok through some unknown outer limit art pieces on my way back to camp on Justice, a, after riding the White Whale with Flash and Erin and Che, after seeing bunny slippers scuffling across the Playa, after Draka's riders came down out of Justice's Mommy to take Justice's picture and say hi, after Nina came out, bringin pork chops which DJ marinated and grilled for us, after Leo returned from Reno with Hagen-Daz and chilled shrimp cocktail, after a bellicose verbal dual with Mateo taunting him until he came down outta that galleon and brought his band out to play (What? You're the Lead Singer of a marching band? You're their tugboat, their parking valet ... Hey, Mateo, how come your hit song is a 1970's Andrew Lloyd Weber showtune, fer Chrissakes? What, you gonna bust into "Memories" next ??? Shuddup, Mateo !), after laminating the HappyL&nders and the HOTD crew, after the Temple of Joy burned while tornados of ash and smoke and dust danced through her enflamed glory, after spending a morning with Laurent, my ex-husband Neptune's friend from the island of Reunion off the coast of Madagascar (he has never been to the States before - wonder what *he* thinks now ???), after Neptune returned for a sacrament courtesy of Deidre and then wandered off into the City of Black Rock, after spending an afternoon walking with Andrea, my lovely friend who needed me - did i fail her?, after watching Robert Prior, a Fabulous Monster, sleep under y shade structure...he is the reason i finally came to BurningMan- i had met him in Bali 6 years ago and he called me when he was back in LA and told me for hours on the phone all that he had seen, the One Tree, the Veg-O-Matic, and the Buffalo Car, and i came, yes i came Home, after Isa and DEvan mounted their lovely Geisha figurehead on the prow - the only part of the RIGGIN ship that was standing besides DJ's "Thinly Veiled Hostility" sign which was stolen sometime the last day or so, after tagging the Deathguild car that broke down in HappyL&nd with our pirate HappyL&nd logo and leaving laminates for Pogue Mahone - the saying from which a very good band got it's name is Celtic for "kiss my ass" - on the cow head on the hood and stuck flowers in their map guns, after DJ finally got Mercy up and running with his Jacob's Ladder ignition for his pyro, which promptly burned the cowskull we borrowed from RyBorg while he yelled "Bad Stinky Cow Head" at it as a girl drifted past, shaking her head and laughing, "God I love this place!", after drinking Pink Things on an oriental carpet pulled up to a burn pier out of chilled martini glasses, it was time to go.

i finally decided to cut loose and have some FUN. It was Monday night, fer chrissakes, and the Event was over. I started laughing maddly as DJ and RyBorg began to grind and sawzall the cross beams from the three masts, and sever the length of the one mainmast to it's original two 25-foot lengths. It should have been defeat. But really, it had been a pile of wreck, as promised, all week, and had been colorfully decorated with DJ's "THINLY VEILED HOSTILITY" sign and his glow-in the dark Hole sign. It was art of a sort. Just not the playground we had wanted. Someday, perhaps, the stars will pervail over the Jim Mason Puppet Pole Playa Curse. But not now.

We packed our camp into an 18 foot box truck for two days, Tuesday and Wednesday in the whiteouts. You could look straight up into the sky and see beautiful skies of blue with puffy innocent clouds drifting nonchalantly past. If you looked out, you could walk smack into the side of the truck before realizing it loomed before you. Just off the playa from the Hair of the Dog Bar, La Contessa, stood stalled in a mist of dust, with just her masts rising above, elegant, serene, alone. A ghost ship where nothing else existed.

We sought refuge in the GuacaMesa, a little camper we had towed out behind the Jeep. Although you could see the fine dust swirling in the air, it felt like haven, allowing you to eat a pickle, drink a cold beer, or smoke a cigarette without your dust mask and goggles.

RyBorg brought the pickles.

Tuesday night we inched our way for hours from sunset until 9 PM to the exit, to make it into Gerlach before Bruno's closed. The only hope of food that didn't come out of a can, glimmered, faintly. We had to stop the Jeep for 20 minutes at a time as the winds raged the snow-colored dust across the windshields. Playa dust is not water-soluble. Windshield wipers only crease muddy stripes across your view, if they work at all.

Bruno's was packed and cheery and all the rockstars of BurningMan seemed to have gathered there: Maid Marion, Crimson Rose, Flash, Dan Das Mann, and the humble geniuses behind Radio Free Burning Man. We swapped stories, smirked at the "No Bathing" warnings posted in the bathrooms, and tried to see who raised the biggest cloud of dust as we smacked down into the black vinyl chairs.

Everyone had white eyelashes and streaks of premature grey in their hair. Somehow it looks sexy and rugged, even on the women.

Respite was over too soon, and the Playa called us back to her angry flanks to sort through the dust drifts for our tools, our fairy lights, the accoutrements that made up our camp.

Gordon and Niki boarded the Leviathan, and DJ and I hitched up GuacaMesa and after i had fixed the Geisha to the front grill of the Leviathan, we headed out, slowly, blindly, through the white out, trying to find out where the exit was in the storm.

Gerlach was closed when we got there, but we found Argyre and Wally Glenn at the bar and talked a bit, sitting next to a guy with leapord spotted hair.

The 18 foot truck broke down 20 miles south of Gerlach. it overheated. Again, We tried to limp it but it made it only 1/4 mile. Leaving Gordon and Niki to snuggle in the box truck, DJ and I drove the Jeep 20 miles to Little Nixon, the other side of Pyramid Lake, to pick up cell service. I called Triple A. they said that the truck was over their limit for ability to tow it, and they couldn't bring us any coolant. They did however put me in touch with Cal-Nevada towing ... a guy named John owns it. He was unbelievably kind. My backup plan became towing it to Berkeley for $800. But i can't afford this, so we returned to the Leviathan and to Gordon and Niki ...

We threw everything we could out of DJ's Jeep and into the cab of it and drove to Fernley to find a room. Fernley is an hour from where the truck was... in DJ';s Jeep. It is more like 2 hours at least in the Levaithan. The gal at Super * Motel looked at her watch - 4:30 AM, and then at the checkout time, 11 AM, and gave me a trucker's discount rate of $47 and a free night the next night if we needed to sleep more... they don't have a late check out. I contemplated Friday... so far away.

Thursday we thought it was a matter of removing the thermostats from the radiator. We bought five gallons of coolant. DJ extracted the thermostats. I made a gasket out of the packaging from some Martha Stewart hangers i got at Super K in Reno. I think she would approve. Even if it wasn't a doily. We tried to start the truck and realized the fan wasn't turning. We looked and realized there wasn't a belt. We went back to Fernley.

The 36 mile marker where we left the Leviathan is a long stretch of Highway 447 without any cell service. By the time we got back, the NAPA auto parts store was closed. We went and had dinner at the Silverado.

At some point i checked my voicemail - almost all of the messages on all three of my vmail lines were from my friend Neil Gaiman, who is a writer. His book, American Gods, just won the Hugo award. This is the Oscar for his field. He was giddy. As i am for him. You should read it. It's wonderful. I read the drafts of it all across the Pacific Rim when i was on sabbatical a year and half ago . . . i left pages in every place i stopped... probably drove some body crazy. Neil called too because he was in San Jose for a couple of days, finishing his screenplay of Coraline with his director Henry Selick, who directed the Nightmare Before Christmas. It was nice to have that one thing pulling at me from the Other Side.

The next day, we bought a fan belt. Actually, we bought two. You see, Jim says it's a F700 460 big block engine, but no such thing exists in the parts catalogs. So we bought a 45" and a 44" ... they didn't have a 43". We headed back out to the truck. On the way past Pyramid Lake, we saw The One Tree, on a trailer. We went down the road and came across Dan Das Mann and his Last Stand crew returning from a dip in the lake. They thanked us for leaving the truck there, since they had thought we might have come swimming and had been looking for us when they had a nice time in the lake. It was Dan's birthday, and he invited us to Reno to come up and rampage that night. So we decided to blow off the lake and get the truck running.

DJ installed the fan belt. It doesn't quite fit. Nothing quite does. There is some discrepancy on the year of the truck, and none of the parts seem to quite belong. The smaller belt was a better fit. We tried to start the Leviathan. Then we realized why the belt wasn't turning - the alternator was frozen. Just about then, the ONLY person to stop to see if we were ok, needed help, water, a hug, in this case, a cold beer, the whole time we were out there, had appeared. He chatted with DJ as I jumped in the Jeep and dashed down the road to find cell service on my phone. The NAPA guys know us by now.

They had the alternator, and they added a voltage regulator in case it needed it, and i had them charge my card and promise to leave it outside for me if they closed before we could make it back.

I tore back to the Leviathan, almost rolling the Jeep on a steep embankment i had perched on to get better cell reception. (Aided by a booster antenna DJ had bought for just this purpose that morning. ) I now only had to dash a mile away, not 20. So we swooped up everything and locked down everything and tore off to Fernley.

We got there 10- minutes before they closed. On a whim, and because Peef said i should, i bought every hose clamp in the place. $20 worth, at Nevada prices .... We didn't have any clean clothes either, to rampage in Reno for Dan's birthday, so i bought everyone recycled coveralls ... girls look sexy in coveralls. You shoulda seen Niki in hers! So we decided to fix the truck the next day, and took off for Reno, and found Dan playing poker with a full table in the Atlantis, which is trying to be Vegas but falling short but a few gazillion dollars worth of effort. When Dan got up and decided to go with us to find a kareoke bar, a poker opponent, very drunk and very full of this amazing non-stop banter of bullshit, adopted us and decided to take us out on his fair home town.... Chris was completely full of shit, and said he was a promoter. I said we were all in the Extra Action Marching Band and if he could get us a gig opening in Reno for ABBA we would be hella stocked. He continued name dropping, some of whom are people i know, and when i said yeah, i know him, he would change topics. From music promotion to snow-boarding, to SPCA work... you name it. He would feel a fence closing in and change direction. But both his facial features and his running patter reminded us of Bill Murray, so we went along for the ride.

And it was a ride. I drove. He had a beat up Aries K car. Chris was too fucked up in the backseat to give more than abstract directions and we went from one side of town to the center to the other side looking for a bar that would let all of us in. Gordon and Niki had left IDs in the hotel, so we were getting carded EVERYWHERE. And no one was being ... uhmmm ... flexible. Apparently the Kareoke bar had been busted recently. So we went to the red light district. Swingers clubs on the left, strip clubs on the right. Chris's ex worked in one.In the midst was a place called Peyton Place. The Voodoo Lounge was next door. Next time i wanna hit that one too. Great techno. Yes, Virginia, there is such a thing. Maybe just not so soon after Basswave.

Peyton Place is a tiny single room, hung with bordello paintings of the Playboy circa1960s-style girlies, with porno on the tv screens, a crappy jukebox selection i worked hard to find 6 good tracks in, a bunch of bemused looking regulars, bartended by a cute little hussy named Jillian. We had a discussion about names when she carded me, and she blew off needing to see legal ID in lieu of some lively people in her bar. I think i distracted her mostly from her need to care. I mean, why would someone as old as i be hanging out with people young enough to be carded? bwahahahaha! Chris the Reno-ite's stories got wilder and wilder and he bought a round of beers, which i wasn't drinking. I went to the bar to order vodka. Jillian started flashing her breasts every time i came up to order. Soon she was coming over to bring the beers and flash her thonged ass and was disappointed that i kept missing as i attempted to spank her. So i explained i was right - handed and turned around and gave her a satisfactory smack. Which pleased her mightily. It felt like someone had changed a script i was supposed to know. Surreal. At some point Chris de-materialized. Then the owner came out and hugged us all and he bought us a round of drinks. We were ready to go, but still no Chris, whose car i had drove all 7 of us in. I checked the Voodoo. Nope. Nice yellow Ducati Monster 900 out front though. Bet they know Erin.

We ended up in two taxis, back at the Atlantis, but the poker room was closed. Dan the birthday boy and his posse went off to bed. So DJ treated us all to some blackjack. We lost his money as slowly as we could. And of course the dealer taught us a few tricks to keep us in the game a bit longer too.

We drove back home and the kids piled into bed and s l e p t.

DJ and i decided to go walking around the fields and talked. And Talked. We do that. For entire weekends sometimes. We avoided barking dogs as much as possible and watched the sun come up. We talked about trust. About love. About balance. When we came back in, the kids were zonked but we didn't want to wake them, so we sat in the bathtub for over 5 hours. All of my callouses started melting. His too. My world, dashed to bits on the playa, was reassembled better than i had ever dreamed. BurningMan is like that. God we're lucky.

The next day was about replacing the alternator, jump starting the Leviathan, driving it to Fernley, realizing, saddly, that the Geisha figurehead had not made it back onto the front of the truck, and was now scaring cows on the Pyramid Res. And shopping in Reno. And having dinner at Denny's in Auburn, and finally, finally, crawling into bed at 2 AM in the Bay Area. Oh yeah, a final stroke of Leviathan-ness . . . the next morning, after scheduling the UNBOXING of the truck, Gordon said the keys had wound up in SF and it took a few hours to retrieve them so we could get it to the Shipyard. And in some of that time, i ... uhhh . . . tagged the truck. I figured better to take it out on that grumpy old beast than on the grumpy other beast that is Jim. Someday i hope he appreciates my sense of fun in that act :)

BurningMan ... I had a hard time getting there, and then a hard time relaxing there. I had just been through several days of panic attacks every 45 minutes - which i hadn't ever had before, and I just couldn't see that it was worth it. That did not last.

How could it?

With you,Jousting Jim, who gave us so much - including your cursed puppet poles, which when errected, are the most amazing and over-engineered art project i have ever encountered, lest you include the Impotence Compensation Project, which must surely emasculate the Man himself, or the beautiful beast, the Veg-O-Matic of the Apacalpyse, which you LOST LOST LOST after last year's Decompression and which i secretly expected to come roaring into HappyL&nd this year .... Jim, you are the Backbone of HappyL&nd, and brought us water and wild stories of your brave knightly jousts with Narwhales to boot! thank you for bringing Nez, who was wonderful !!!! But he needs to come sit and eat with us more often. As does RyBorg and Justice's new crush - now that Veg is gone - the Fuck Machine...

With you, magickal exotic Isa and our new friend, DEvan, with your morning coffee lounge and wisdoms to offer ... your strength and your support and your faerieg glamour continued thru your Faerie Court when they came to HappyL&nd too !

And you, magnificent Deidre, our Pirate Barbie and Songstress to the Sirens, who sent us all off on our first night of FUN !and your sidekicks Hawkeye who was intensely sweet just when you needed it, and hysterical Alison Wonderland, who is cracking me up just remembering some of her stories ) heard by many camps around, i'm sure) and Tatiana and QuarTarr . . . what a lovely posse you all have in each other and thank you for sharing it with HappyL&nd ...

And you, our Beaver Finalists keeping the good name of HappyL&nd in the running, Triple T and Triple E (Brettt and Renee) whose cheerful mayhem and madness warmed the coolest nights aboard Art Van ... Renee, i bequeath to you and Isa the job of wrangling this fabulous possee to you next year, as Genius Support Camp or whatever else you wish to make of it, I will be there !

And with you, Gibbon our Braveheart singer whose song still makes me cry (can i get a copy? huh? huh? ) will you sign it? Can i have your autograph? you are sweet and silly and completely WHACK ! come to SF ! we need you!!!! Bring that monster alien Peef with you...

And you, Peef the Wonder Genius who built the BEST SHOWER on the whole dang PLAYA and probably all of Nevada - Peef whoobliterates all need for Gideon Bibles, the Torah, the Koran and the Science & Health.... you are your own religion...

with you, Diamond Dave & Melbug, whose mellow cannot be harshed - you epitomize Serenity for me ...

And Bambi the best art bike on the Playa and Justice's hero...

With you, Solar whom i love from some very deep resonance i don't even know a word for and therefore put you down here because i still cannot think of anything to say cuz i keep remembering the dreams i have where you are the Sun Child, and your appearance means everything will be alright.

And for you, bodacious B, who epitomizes our heart's child (the tutu doesn't hurt :)

And with you, such clever and glorious Playa Virgins as you, ScottV who graced us all with your sublime Duodechahedron ), but no, it never stopped there. You were Everywhere !

Leo, our own guardian... we are somehow safer with you there. Why ? it's not that your fingernails were black or your ethereally lovely friend Red Vicki was an instant delight... somehow, you, as bonkers as you are, instill a sense of safety in me... Saftey Third, of course! You were great fun to clean up the camp with in a series of whiteouts - how many people can you say *that* about?

And you, Iain generously bringing and setting up your Dome Tent which the girls, Barbara, Solar, Mel and B turned into an exotic Opium Den .... (i watched the Basswave kids struggle with their beast for days and days ... and for what? all their ravers snuggled in ours anyway :) When they weren't trying to get our water...

And you, Barbara, who are amazing beyond your full knowledge... take it, honey, it's yours. We love you. And thank you for bringing your hottie, Matt, who always wore a smile. I'm sure you put it there. But that wicked twist is all his own...

Kate, you know why you are here, and know that i love you, and thank you thank you thank you for being someone i want in my life.

You, Niki Darling, who will be President in 2012. I don't think you will be remembered as the First Woman to be President, but as the Best... if you still want it

And you, Gordon, who are simply amazing. No, AMAZING, Hopefully this last few weeks has not dulled your lust for life but only sharpened your sense of Adventure ! Just pray Jim doesn't leave the Leviathan to you in his will :P

And you, DJ, my best friend, my partner in crime, and the person who continues to teach me more about the world, and myself, with patience and trust and ... with Love,

Thank you.

I still have a black chip from the Duck, and you are all laminated for Hair of the Scurvy Dog... can i buy you a drink? Tuesday? the Odeon? or at Decompression if you are beyond the Bay Area. Let's toast the end of HappyL&nd and the Beginning of something new for next year... talk to Isa and Renee - me, i just live here.

Only SOME of what i have learned:

1. If you give me an 18 foot box truck i will FILL it. To the brim.

2. Do NOT give me an 18 foot box truck.

3. Never organize a 100s+ person theme camp by yourself. Instead, organize yourself and maybe some extra stuff that will fit in your car for your friends. If 25 people show up, they will enjoy you more, and you will have more fun with them. If 100+ people show up, they should have planned better...

4. Never take on a) Theme Camp Organization b) a MAJOR Art Project, and c) an Art Bike for one Event. Pick one. Help others with the rest. Next time, Justice will be "done" enough not to be my focus. I might do that damn SWIGGIN" FROM the RIGGIN' and discombobulate the curse of Jim's Puppet poles :) HappyL&nd is done. Next year, please talk to Isa, Renee (Triple E of the Art Van),

5. My mantra the last two weeks has been - with varying success - Mind Over Matter ... If you don't Mind, it don't Matter.

6. Triple A Plus will not tow an 18 foot box truck. Or bring you coolant. Or tell you whether it's your fan belt or your alternator. When you call, tell them it is just a truck, then if you are lucky, the tow truck driver MIGHT be a mechanic who can help you. Otherwise, you need to have someone like DJ.

7. If you have been through a horrendous ordeal but some beautiful being comes up to you and asks how you are, and you can smile and say, I AM OK, and mean it, it will become true faster than it takes coffee water to boil on the Playa.

8. It really is how you look.

9. do NOT let me borrow your 18 foot box truck

10. Coffee. It's not just a good idea. It's the Law.

11. Peef has a direct line to God. An electrical current. I am not sure who is more shocked. But he is completely and utterly insANE and if allowed, will build a Hot Water Solar Powered Electrical Pump Artificially Intelligent Shower System next year... Someone has to line up water. Maybe you could bring it in on an 18 foot box truck? I know where you can find one that runs like a dream ....