penguins2002burn

You may contact me at emailpenguinscott@gmail.com. You may read more of my works by visiting www.penguinlust.blogspot.com and www.penguins2003burn.blogspot.com.

BURNING WITHIN ME by Penguin Scott

Burning Man is now in me. It flows through my veins, coursing a passion in my soul, making me long the 51 weeks of the year for the time I may spend in the middle of the Nevada dessert, where the only companions are the rugged, seemingly bereft of life mountains surrounding the area the Man calls home. It is because of this passion for this other world, known simply as Burning Man, that I often make mention of it. Nine out of ten times, I am asked, “What is Burning Man?” But the answer somehow eludes me, even after experiencing two events.

Just how does one explain Burning Man? Is it an art festival? Is it a hippie rainbow convention? Is it some Neo-Pagan orgy of pleasure? Maybe it’s a drug-induced plethora of writhing bodies akin to a Woodstock gathering. Those are some of the preconceived ideas most people have of Burning Man. And much of its definition depends on who is describing it. It is some of all of those things. I’ll admit, I know there are drugs there. Last year I saw no evidence of them and only a few times this year was I aware that they were there. There are a lot of hippies and a lot of naked bodies. It's not entirely about that at all.

Physically, it is a city that takes its name from the desert it sits on, Black Rock City. But it’s like no city you will ever know. It only exists for one week. It has streets, a department of public works, an airport, even a university. But it has no commerce, it’s housing consists of tents and RVs, and after a week, it continues to live but only in its resident’s souls.

The city is circular in shape, like a tire. If set on a compass, its streets would begin at 300 degrees and end over at 60 degrees. In the center is the man. The city radiates out from him. The first circular street, called the Esplanade, lies 2,100 feet from the man. The outer most street, of which there are nine, lies 3,900 feet from the man. At 180 degrees and on the Esplanade, is Center Camp, the city hall, if you will. From 300 degrees to zero and then to 60 degrees, and between the man and the Esplanade, is what is known as the Playa, which is Spanish for Beach.

The city is huge, large enough to accommodate the 29,000 or so people who converged at the 2002 Burning Man Festival. It is also large enough that I have yet to see the entire city, after having lived there for Two years (one week each, remember). But more importantly, the city is magic. It is sensory overload. It is where abnormal becomes normal, where surreal is real. Where one enters not only a new city, but a new time and plane and very little from outside permeates its existence.

The official web site (www.burningman.com) describes it in brief as such: “Burning Man is an annual experiment in temporary community dedicated to radical self-expression and radical self-reliance.” But I tend to sum it up in the same way as a sign I read driving into the city last year. If you have never been, we cannot explain it. If you have, there is no need to.

Burning Man is a journey. Not one where you simply arrive in Black Rock City (BRC), but a journey where you arrive at new senses, where the destination sets in your mind, your eyes and your ears. Many, if not all, people return home changed after a visit to BRC. Not because of the 100 plus temperatures or the dust storms, but because of all the radical self reliance and self-expression going on. One can’t help but get caught up in it.

There is no source of water at BRC. There are no restaurants, no hardware stores. Everything one needs for their stay must be brought with them. Everything brought to BRC must be taken home. Burning Man is a leave no trace event. Go to this desert two hours north of Reno any other time of year, and you will find no evidence that thousands of people inhabited the sand for one week at the end of August. Food, shelter, water- all must be brought with you to the desert.

Black Rock City embraces a gift economy. There is nothing to buy there (save ice and coffee or tea- and the proceeds are donated to the local schools). Even though, and mostly out of guilt, many have become accustomed to more of a barter economy. “I’ll share my cashews for a beer.” “I got a necklace for a ring.” “For a glass of tea, recite a haiku.”

My journey started with a carload of camping gear and my bike from San Mateo, a San Francisco community city just south of the airport. About five hours later I was driving through Reno. Just East of Reno I turned off the nice interstate and onto a small, two-laned blacktop highway. It meandered past Pyramid Lake and through a valley of mountains. They were jagged and large and reminded me of old giants who had come here to die. Their death seemed to prevent any other life on the surface of things. Only after closer inspection can one find the minutia of life that calls the desert home.

About ninety minutes later I was going through the town of Empire, home of a gypsum plant where 80 percent of the World Trade Center’s sheet rock came from. Just a few miles north I came to Gerlach and in the distance, behind this small town, like it was being protected from the world, I could see Black Rock City. And a feeling came over me, like I was really home. My cares from the real world, my stresses, what concerned me, melted away in the afternoon heat and were consumed by the sand. My ticket was an all access pass to crazy and it was just what life needs.

“I was walking along the Esplanade towards home for dinner. The sun was set but it was still bright out and most people seemed to be in camp for dinner already. To my left was a car full of people, one carrying a megaphone. He was announcing that Burning Man had been cancelled and in its place would be the Republican National Convention, “so run for your lives!” Behind this car was an art car covered in sheet metal and looked like it had just come off the set of the Mad Max movies. It was spewing flames 20 feet into the air every few seconds. People moved about on bike, the preferred mode of transportation in our city, where vehicular traffic is forbidden, unless it’s an art car adding to the atmosphere.

“The air was full of the thump-thump of techno music blaring from the speakers of a nearby camp. A girl on a large, adult trike passed me. She was wearing a top hat, goggles, and a black skirt and had decorated her trike with glowing lights and fabric. She passed me slow enough that I turned my head and said hello. She told me she liked my outfit. I had on a jacket on which I had sewn small plastic baby dolls.

“This was my second night at Burning Man. I had arrived the night before it was officially open to the public and was able to see the city grow and develop as the week went on. The previous year, my first, I spent my four nights wishing that I had better costumes. One is not complete without a costume. And if one has no costume, one may certainly go naked. This year, I wanted to be one of the ones people stopped for a photo, or made a comment about the uniqueness of the costume. Top hat girl made my night, and was only the first of many who would complement my appearance.”

Burning Man is music and art and being artistic. It’s being open minded and non-conforming to the conservative society that has taken hold of our nation. It is naked people, couples, queers, old and young, rich and poor, dressed in costumes to dazzle and make a statement, even if the statement is to not make one. To be normal here is to be as far out as you want to be. But at Burning Man, everyone is normal, everyone is part of the whole, and unlike that other world we live in, everyone is appreciated for their contribution to this temporary society.

The city is made for nighttime. That is when things really come to life. The sun sets to applause and howls from the populace, the temperature drops, the costumes come on, the neon comes to life, and the music picks up. Just above your head is a green laser light show. All of this would not end until after the sun came up again. Along the Esplanade and in other parts of the city, groups of people erect large geodesic domes, or build elaborate theme camps. A generator buzzes, but is soon silenced by music. For me, Burning Man is wandering the streets of the city, going from one party to the next. A few dances here, a few there, then on to something new. It’s like taking all the parties going on in Manhattan and putting them all in one place. It’s like New Year’s Eve, your birthday, the Fourth of July, Halloween and Mardi Gras all rolled into one night.
The streets are a parade of life. People decorate their bikes in EL wire, neon-like lights, in the shape of fish, a face, or words. Artistically mutated cars and buses roll about the city with music and people dancing about.

Everyone is out to see and be seen, to dance, to share, and interact among the colorful lights, a metal praying mantis, 20 foot penises, revolving spheres, random art, crashed spaceships and fire dancers. And in the center of it all, the center of our universe, is the man, standing on his platform decked out in blue neon. He is the real reason we are here; he is our spiritual center.

It started as a simple fire ceremony in 1986 at Baker Beach in San Francisco. Eventually it grew to where park police forced its departure to the desert and has evolved into the burn we burners are familiar with today. But why burn an effigy of a man? It has different meanings for everyone, but is just as powerful and meaningful to all of us.

Admittedly, to some it is simply the attraction of a large fire, like moths to a flame they come to party and burn. To others it symbolizes a new beginning, with the fire clearing the way for new growth. But no matter how one looks at it, the burn on Saturday night marks an ending and beginning. It IS New Years for burners.

“After spending 7 nights in the desert at BRC, I cannot believe my time here is almost over. I cannot believe that I have been here this long. It only seems like I got here four days ago, not eight. Time seems to stop in BRC, left in that other world. But Burning Man only lasts in the physical sense for one week, it stays so much more special that way. For those of us who are truly citizens of BRC, it never ends in our souls and in our hearts.

“There are few rules in BRC. Drink lots of water, participate, leave no trace, don’t throw waste into the port-a-johns, respect your neighbors. Those live on in a true citizen for the rest of the year. Don’t judge; spread a good word, do a good deed, expect nothing in return, love is a gift.
“In BRC it’s not unusual to approach a complete stranger and ask how they are doing, to say hello, or compliment their appearance. BRC is a community of people who choose to be there and be a part of that community. Those who come here simply to take advantage of having a good time, who seek drinks and food from others simply to mooch, those who choose to spend their time here destructively and deface property not their own, or come simply to watch the throngs of naked bodies do not belong here. They are looked down upon by those of us in the know- the fraternity element, as we call them.

“As I do most days when it’s too hot to be out and about in BRC, I was sitting in the shade of my camp watching the parade of life go up and down my street. A naked girl passed by and mentioned to me that today (Sunday) was the second saddest day, when most people leave. The man had burned the night before and many in town were busy tearing down camp to head back home. But tomorrow would be the saddest, when she would go home. It made me a little emotional that I, too, must return to that other fast paced world of fear, anger, hate, ill wills, judgement, confusion and selfishness. But then again, after 8 nights and 9 days in the desert, I really longed for some hot food and a good shower!”

I had seen ships floating on the desert floor at night lit up and otherworldly. I had seen people dressed like cows, rabbits, angels, devils, clowns and Santa’s. I had seen cars belch fire and large puppets with people stuffed inside parade at sunset. I’d seen people help others in need, who failed to understand the harshness of life in the desert elements. I had seen people make beautiful love on the playa and in Center Camp and even a man lost in his own world of self-pleasure, oblivious to the physical yet surreal world that revolved around him. I had seen naked people- painted in neon colors, riding bikes (ouch!) showering, walking through center camp and down our streets, and thought nothing of it. I had heard jokes and haiku’s and poems, and songs I had not heard since elementary school (remember Double Dutch Bus? I danced to it!). I witnessed a parade a mile long of topless women celebrating their womanhood for the “Critical Tits party.” I had ridden my bike miles and walked from one end of town to the other. I had met new friends and old friends and people I don’t care to meet again. For Burning Man is not perfect, even though I go on as if it were.

Many of my fond memories, the ones I tend to share as I have here, really tend to skew the event. I share the things that I know will get people’s attention. Reading this, one must really think Burning Man is a flesh orgy of over 25,000 horny, sex-starved revelers who dance the sun up each day while high on drugs. No, that’s not it at all. But there is so much more at BRC. It is spiritual, an emotional overload of all emotions.

There are pieces of art that truly move and inspire. There are classes to learn things, from massage and energy healing, to how to fly a kite. The city is full of good-natured folk who simply want to enjoy life in a new and more colorful way than can be experienced anywhere else. People are full of good will and intentions and truly wish to carry that from the desert and into the real world. And it is diversity. Start asking around and I bet you will be surprised who you will find out is in to Burning Man or has always wanted to go. They will be young, old and in between. They will have kids and grandkids, or they may not. Some will be financially well off, others may be living from paycheck to paycheck.

Burning Man is just the escape I need from the mundane life. One week where I can haul my ass and a truck-full of camping gear to a desert in Nevada. Where I can let go, unwind, party, revel, become insane and be strange, magical, dusty, sweaty, communal and beautiful. In a place where the average median income is greater than that of our county’s, we are all one in BRC. Next year, I will return. I will physically attend each and every year that can, so long as there is a man to burn. I hope to drag others there to share in the magic I have seen, for I’d only have to drag you there once. After that, the man will be in you, too.

My list of things I don’t want to forget about Burning Man 2002
1. Seeing BRC from Gerlach on my approach to Burning Man, not realizing before how well one can see it from there.
2. Two hugs from cute greeter girl.
3. Cow clown and Jock clown being so close (and probably getting it on later that night)
4. The cooler water squirt guy misting people on our street.
5. Being called a hot-looking bear and my red face when finding out just what that meant.
6. The octopus cart
7. My decorative lamps hanging in Center Camp – the result of my volunteer efforts.
8. The guy who kept asking me, “Dude, do you know where I can score some drugs?”
9. Daily dust devils on the Playa.
10. The great Playa condition as compared to last year.
11. Astral Head Wash.
12. Brad (neighbor of mine) dancing at sun up with his fuzzy pants.
13. Falling asleep with the thump-thump of the techno dance parties.
14. Emily and Quin giving me a small fan as cigarette-smoke defense.
15. Seeing “fluffer” guy from last year.
16. Klown Rampage with Godtodd
17. Amsterdamed Party
18. Getting drunk for the first time in BRC, something not usually needed to enjoy your time there.
19. Finding Caroline, Bobbi and Tracey waiting for me at my camp.
20. So many tits – so little time. (Critical Tits party)
21. Row boat log book, “Landed in BRC, returned to brave the sharks.”
22. Writing some of my joys in life in the Temple of Joy, to be burned on Sunday night.
23. Being a carrier (BRC light brigade).
24. Quin proposing to Emily
25. Volunteer party
26. Watching the city slowly come to life as each night passed.
27. Wishing the city would come to life already!
28. Being knocked off my bike and on my ass in front of lots-o-people.
29. Not feeling any pain.
30. The kissing booth, need I say more?
31. ***Censored***
32. Klown rampage of Thunderdome
33. Watching Dr. Megavolt dance with lightning
34. Naked mushroom guys camped right behind me, never a dull moment there.
35. Taking a shower instead of the daily sponge baths.
36. Corned beef sandwiches
37. Watching the couple make love in center camp with Caroline.
38. Barbarella at the drive-in theater
39. Double Dutch Bus at the Church of Funk
40. Ronald McDonald’s reincarnation
41. Happy New Day celebration every night at midnight.
42. Meeting guy whose mom went to high school with my dad.
43. Watching lighted floats/art cars sail across the Playa at night.
44. The magic of the blue lily pond at night.
45. Dancing to Rush.
46. People asking for my picture.
47. Having a camp name – Pagan Penguin Camp
48. Having Kleenex appear at my camp just when I needed them most.
49. The puppet showering on the Playa
50. Picking up all the damned feathers during my 2 hours of clean up duty prior to leaving town.
51. “Make me laugh or I will kill you.”
52. Drinking booze at a deserted camp and leaving them a note (friends of Emily and sanctioned by her).
53. My ingenious camp setup, keeping the sun at bay
54. Mentos
55. Finding a naked couple asleep behind my tent.
56. Anatomically correct stress toys.
57. Visiting camp Antarctica’s air-conditioned tractor-trailer.
58. Wanting to be in bed by 0300 one night but seeing the sun come up (oops).
59. Meeting strangers and leaving friends.
60. Asking Jennifer why she wanted to have my baby but promising her a girl.
61. The return of twisters during the burn.
62. Watching the parade of life at my camp in the shade
63. Paper boy
64. Calling Tom Waits Tom Jones (e-gads!)
65. Neighbors yelling “margarita time” as they fired up a generator whose only purpose was to power the blender.
66. Ringing the bell of the Temple of Joy before they took the rope away.
67. Rosencoven playing Rock Lobster live.
68. Seeing the Playa art with my camp-mates from last year.
69. Being invited to the top of a camp’s 75-foot structure after stopping to dance to Stevie Nicks.

Below you will find a link to view my photos taken at the 2002 Burning Man festival.

The slide show has 153 photos and it takes about 30 minutes to view them all. Enlarge the screen for better viewing. You can stop the show, pause it and move forward and back using the buttons on the bottom of the page. You can also order personal copies here.

I warn you here and in advance. This is an artistic festival. There are photos of nude people. They are not explicit. There are also a lot of people having fun, dancing and smiling a lot. If any of these things bother you, view at your own risk and don’t complain to me, you’ve been warned.

Enjoy and let me know what you think.

Bright blessings,
Penguin

And now to the PHOTOS!!!! Viewing instructions:

Click here to see pictures:
http://picturecenter.kodak.com/share?invite=VExr4ZPThPP1DYZY0U0o


You can also copy and paste the URL into your browser.