Stranded

Stranded
Ridgecrest, California
Sunday August 24, 2003

Thirty one hours ago our RV broke down in the middle of the Mohave desert.

The Ridgecrest Chevron is populated with very nice people including Denis, Kelly, Cathy, Patty, Dennis Jr., and Roger. I did not get the name of the guy with the bad teeth and the missing finger.

We have consumed vast quanities of water as it was 107 degrees today.

This has necessitated frequent trips to the bathroom, which has given us the opportunity to really get to know Herman, as we've affectionately named the cockroach in the urinal. I no longer try to drown him for sport which, anyway, I came to recognize as pointless since I'm fairly certain that cockroach living in the middle of a very hot desert simply cannot be killed.

We've learned that the engine configuartion on the Tioga Montara by Fleetwood with it's Elixir 1000 cab is particularly difficult to work with, that the replacement fuel pump and fuel pump regulator seem to working fine, but that there is some sort of vaguely understood electrical problem. The modified RV vehicle configuration is not in their computer, thus diagnosis is difficult, so mostly it's been trial and error. Someone (currently in Las Vegas) is getting back into town tonight and he is a "fast troubleshooter."

Plan B involves some sort of SUV/truck/van rental, a slimming down possessions, and a charge to the Playa.

Our day was mightily improved by the arrival of Kim and Lisa, also headed to Black Rock, also in an RV, also broken down. They are currently creeping up to Carson City to have a radiator replaced.

We have eaten twice each at Denny's and McDonalds, which have air conditioning.

You probably don't know this--we certainly did not--but Ridgecrest is just lousy with Dollar Stores. In our five visits, we purchased approximately 50 item, including a Jesus who look like Edward James Olmos, according to Mark.

Adding, inult to injury, the s key on my keyboard jut died. thi i probably a good time to wrap thing up. We have been very zen throughout thi whole thing, are lodged in a Bet Wetern down the treet and will be on the Playa tomorrow one way or another. I'm ure that there i ome leon in thi experience but right now I jut want to get the hell out of Ridgecret.

Manic and Ready
Seattle
Tuesday August 19, 2003
Longest post. Ever.

Well friends, it's just been madness around Joygantic HQ lately. It's about thirty hours until I fly to LA and begin the trek to Black Rock City and the last few days have been the expected whirl of tidying up things at work and seriously plowing through projects that back in June I assumed I'd leisurely cruise through over, oh, say 90 days instead of three. But deadlines do clarify the mind (which could be a malapropism as now I'm imagining my mind like butter, but without the milk solids. Wait. That is apt).

Anyhoo, I was inspired by Concetta and on Saturday test drove a turban concept that I am building an outfit around (sewing projects for next 30 hours: repair favorite sarong, resew fake fur pants, create an all white desert ensemble patterned on my favorite Japanese bath robe + purple turban). I've spent the last two nights soldering EL Wire into a variety of forms: the Faith Charger (nee Soul Jumper), Triple S roofing accent, frame decoration for my newly acquired $20 thrift store bike, a bra and a tail for a pair of cheetas I'll be living with, a set of four Japanese latterns to light our shade strcuture, a blinking hard hat, and miscellaneous other wire that will be used for who knows what. And I have acquired the technology to carve the sixteen rubber stamps required let people take away a gift from the Faith'O'Matics. I suspect these will be created en route/onsite. And I have yet to complete the spinning oval Triple S sign that will hopefully preside over the corner of our service station space. And there are about twelve other things that may or may not get done. Our Triple S red coveralls will arrive on time, whether they get screenprinted, well, we'll see.

If you're getting the sense that I've flipped solidly into mania, then color you perceptive. The last 72 hours have been like the moment in foreplay (having long since moved passed the point when you know you're going to have sex) you suddenly are assured that you're about to have great sex. Have no fear, gentle readers, the post-coital period will undoubtabely be momentarily dark and more depressive as my skydive ends with the abrupt approach of earth once I return from the desert.

There have been two unexpected wrinkles in my well thought out plan to return to Black Rock City, or "home" as folks who've been call it (which makes those who haven't think this whole thing must be some weird cult, rather than--as I would argue--a miraculous creative oasis and an international social/art phenomena, possibly a transformative movement aimed at realigning Western culture (I told you I was on the mania upswing). The first is Dia's decision not to go this year. The second was some news I received Sunday, which I emailed our camp:

So I've just violated our camp culture and invited a pair of people to camp without without checking in with the group, but I'm sure you'll all understand . . .

So the crew that camped together/near last year (Mikelle, Mark, Dia, Me, Trevor, Corrine) got to experience our neighbors from Utah--Planet HATU--which was a great, whacky group. We all shudder at the thought of being asked to help Zaphod with a project, since many of us helped or watched his over- engineered, in-the-heat-of-the-day, extravaganzas unfold like some sort of Kafkaesque construction site (complete with scaffolding, winches, and welding torch).

And I will certainly never forget my first in the flesh glimpse of an exhibitionist, mid-op transexual on a moped who happened to stop by the fabulous public kitchen built by a lovely couple whose names I can't remember. And I spent a lot of time with Fuzzy (Karen), having great, unfettered conversations. She was one of the the most special connections I made last year. Her partner Peter--responsible, I learned for the great Burning Man UFO Hoax--could only get off work at the last minute and so we hung out briefly the night before the burn. Fuzzy emailed me last week and I reported our coordinates, referred her to the website, said hugs were awaiting, etc.

Also with HATU was Spanky/Jimmy/James/The Naked Guy. A good fellow, he was steadfastly naked, and walked with a bit of stiffness given--he related to me as we sauntered to a neighborhood bar in the pre-Burn dust storm--that the stiffness in his gait came from having had both of his feet cut off and reattached after a construction accident. He delighted in sharing his PVC canon, capable of blasting a rag high in the air and creating confusion within whatever camp in which it happened to land. He was a funny, caring, and naked.

Karen wrote me a few moments ago to say that he died this week. I don't know any details, but he won't be at Burning Man this year. Karen and Peter are making the trip to the Playa by themselves this year and I've invited them to join our camp, or at least plop down near us.

My only expectation is that it will be a gift to spend an intense, creative week+ with myself and a bunch of others (some known, some unkown). We'll see how things turn out. This may be my last post in August, but check back since I (may) post pix from the Playa if I have the energy/desire/ability to boot up the laptop and connect to the BRC wireless network. Also--and I'm reluctant to mention this since there is no way the experience could be anything but a shadow of what it's like in person--the emolation will be televised.

Annoyed
Kansas City
Wednesday August 13, 2003
Just in case you were wondering, owing to my terminally ill laptop and the painfully slow dialup connection I will not be posting a cute picture of myself with the flower Dia dropped off at the office yesterday nor will I recount and illustrate in pictures the terribly fun time we had last night as the last table in a ten year run for a waiter/sommelier who so enjoyed our company that he invited us to a party tonight which would be great except for the the part where I am in Kansas right now.

Catchin' Up
Kansas City
Wednesday August 13, 2003

I Don't Write About Work
Seattle
Monday August 11, 2003
Nothing good can come from writing about work. Work is work. I love it (otherwise why do it?--that's a rhetorical question so don't email me with details about rent, mortgage payments or the cost of cat food) but the thing is that spending so much time working, it's easy to lose one's sense of perspective if you write about it at the moment. And then there is the risk of surepitiously handing out clues to the goings on. Which if you work for a public company as I do, could land you in Martha Stewart-ville. So to be clear, there's nothing insider-tradingish about this post and it'd be pointless to read between my lines.

Today we launched RealOne for Sprint PCS Vision, which has been the thing that has occupied my waking hours for the past few months and wass splashed all over the press today. Stressful? Well, yes. I found myself in the midst of a train wreck of commitments: visits from in-laws, parents, Burning Man preparation, and a mass of herding cat activity to make today (and the coming days) successful for the company in which I've invested most of the past four years. And I think I pulled it off. I did my best to be present to the various experiences and people who have populated--especially--the last 30 days. I didn't go to the zoo with the neices and nephew, but I did cook the family some great meals. I didn't checkout Mark & Mikelle's new house, but I did ensure the Burning Man crew has coveralls. I didn't eat dinner with Dia for much of the month of July/August, but when we did share a meal it felt special, my parents were forced to cook most of their own 40th Anniversary dinner, but at least we got to share it with them and toast that wonderful milestone.

So that's it. I'm not sure if I'm apologizing or not. I know I'm feeling satisfied, happy, and am for the most part (memo to self: get to the bottom of "the most part") feeling good about my human relationships. The fact that I'm sitting on a big work acheivement and am balancing this against friends, family, and art seems at this moment like a high watermark in my evolution as a human. Over and out.

Things I Learned This Weekend
Seattle
Monday August 4, 2003

• Mark and I often dress alike (though I still don't own a sequined skirt or a disco ball bandolear)
• Lara doesn't like her picture taken (which I knew, but it's still damn ironic given that her calling is to capture people on film)
• On the other hand, she makes a damn fine fake gas pump (and who knew Styrofoam was so versatile?)
• While my artistic ability is limited, I can come through in a pinch (though it took four tries to make the "Maps" sign)
• One risk of breaking up a fight in a grocery store is that you might get bit (though Rob did the admirable thing, saved the Safeway clerk from harm, and may possibly have blinded his assailant in one eye)
• I really should not pick at those nasty whiteheads that resist removal (on the other hand, it's now removed . . . maybe I need to listen to Dia and get a facial)

What Phil Did This Summer
Seattle
Sunday August 3, 2003
Our friend Phil--who I would describe as an up and coming academic, though he might get all demure on me if I did so--spent his summer organizing a conference at Oxford on information technology and the developing world. He gave permission to publish his recap email, which I think is a great read, particularly his documentation of the struggle in catering the event. I saw Phil today for the first time since he's been back in Seattle, can confirm he had a (mostly) good time Copenhagen, and I'm glad he's back. We'll be covered in dust together in a few short weeks.

Revered (8:00) and Authority
Seattle
Saturday August 2, 2003
The Triple S Spiritual Service Station now has an address:
Revered (8:00) and Authority, Black Rock City, Nevada! Our 100' X 100' plot of real estate will be near, and hopefully adjacent to, our friends at Camp Bayou and NecronomiCone. [See the official Black Rock City maps] Our neighbors at Revered and Authority include:

NecronomiCone (Fairfax, CA)
If we don't suck you in with our devilish sno cones then maybe one of our Cosmic Joke art cars are what you are looking for. Remember, Satan is in for consultation but so is the Happy Bar to lift your spirits, or give you some if you are in need.

Camp Bayou (San Francisco, CA)
Yeee Haw!!! Come on down to the Bayou! We have it all, A Swamp, Lush Vegitation, a Shack, Critters, Good ole Southern Humidity, and Live Music on Wednesday Night!. Hometown: San Francisco, CA

take away M (Nantes, LA)

Valhalla Lounge (San Francisco, CA)
Valhalla Lounge, where the gods and goddesses come to play. We'll be chillin not killin on the playa. Come play, dance and celebrate with us.

Velvet Soulmine (Atlanta, GA)
Dissipation Nation's Velvet Soulmine, a plush, cozy, chill space, will welcome you, body and soul, to relax and explore the tactile fabrics of our Morocan style tent. Join us for the annual rock/paper/scissors tournament, the Vodka party, and body painting during the day. Check the schedule or just stop by and touch.

KULT OF THE FERAL KITTEN (Los Angeles, CA)
The Great Feral Kitten Idol will keep a watchful eye over her human servants while she sits high atop her Queenly Column as we praise her to amaze her, climb into her warm belly to feed her, & spin fire and sticks to amuse her. This is no Josey and the Pussycats...This is CATS GONE WILD!

 

Connecting People
Seattle
Friday August 1, 2003
Nokia's moto is "Connecting People" and their strategy is to "create personalized communication technology that enables people to shape their own mobile world." Like today.

I woke up today to a multimedia message from Dia, who's in Las Vegas on what she insists is business:

I later sent her an MMS showing her the odd cat pillow which mysteriously appeared on our porch after she left on her trip:

After lunch, I received an email from a colleague in Poland passing on a URL that let me watch the end of a 250,000 person "Woodstock" being streamed live to Nokia phones (using everyone's favorite mobile media application, the RealOne Player ;-) . . . I couldn't understand any of the Polish crowd banner but did recognize Queen's "We Will Rock You."

Meanwhile, on the other side of the country, my boss Ian was trying to get from New York to Chicago, but was being thwarted by midwestern thunderstorms. After commisertaing via text messaging, he sent this photo to document his fifth hour on the tarmac at La Guardia: