“What is this Burning Man?” asks my mother, via the technological monstrosity known as Facebook. “Is it like Curves?”
My mother being my “friend” on Facebook—and commenting on absolutely everything that I post or comment on myself—is another story.
“Burning Man is not Curves,” I reply in print. This is actually all I know of Burning Man, that it is NOT Curves. I will try to explain this to her tomorrow, on her birthday, when she will likely be in a cheerful-enough frame of mind to agree to care for my beasts if I should decide to go to Burning Man 2010—which might as well be 20 women in a circle on elliptical machines, for all I understand of it.
*****
Facebook is a necessary evil for misery-laden divorcees, I have decided.
Sophie asked me just yesterday why all the adults she knows seem to be on Facebook: “obsessed,” I believe, was the word she chose. I told her it’s because grownups are pitiful creatures. I told her Facebook happens to grownups because once they get out of college, they lose their friend-making superpowers, and eventually, their friends. Without Facebook and its illusion of reconnection and new connections, grownups’ sad, pathetic little hearts would rot like dead goldfish floating too long at the top of the aquarium before proper flush-burial.
“Ooooo-KAY,” said Sophie, before flouncing off to read, or, you know, make real friends or schedule real playdates or something like that.
I need more playdates.
*****
As I was pondering this (along with my mother’s last rapid-fire machine-gun burst of comments: “LOVE THAT!” “GREAT PIC! WONDER WHERE JENN GETS IT FROM?” “<3 <3 <3″), I noticed that an old friend of mine from Grinnell had posted a batch of Burning Man photos. Many of them featured topless, A-cup, 20something hotties wearing superstar sunglasses and bandanna loincloths and working heavy construction equipment, hotties with names like Ariadne Aurora Novastar and Eclipse Eurofresh.
As I stared at their naked boobies in the hot, dusty desert, two realizations hit me:
1) Them thar are some badass CURVES
2) My boobies were SO AWESOMELY EUROFRESH when I was in my 20s, that even Ariadne Aurora and Eclipse would have fallen to their hot, bony knees in wonderment and worshipped me as the artsy love goddess that I was, had I only known it at the time
3) I wanted to BE Ariadne Aurora Novastar and Eclipse Eurofresh. Like, NOW. IMMEDIATELY. In some way. Even if I would now have to tie my boobies behind my neck like a halter top so I could work the construction equipment safely
*****
I feel bad that I have not had this response to BlogHer. In fact, I can’t even bear to look at pictures of BlogHer, and I like to think it’s not just because I’m discriminating against their boobies-must-be-covered policy.
I don’t feel like I belong anywhere anymore. And BlogHer, although I seem to have the credentials—after all, I run the ads, and I, you know, BLOG, and I’m a HER—feels like a place where I would feel even more lonely than I already do. Even more of a freak.
Truly, right now, I feel about as lonely as I’ve ever felt. And as freakish as I’ve ever felt. The prospect of attending BlogHer and watching the hives form around the most popular bloggers makes me want to set myself on fire. With a stiff drink in the non-lighting hand.
So why not watch something else get set on fire? Something BIG?
*****
I did a little homework. Burning Man, populated annually by thousands upon thousands of freaks who come together to create a freakishly wonderful and terrifying and unfathomable (to the Burning Man virgins, like moi) consensual art experience—well, that started to sound kind of reassuring. Calming, even. Insane, possibly, but I am no stranger to insanity.
So I wrote to my Grinnell friend on a whim, asking him to tell me more about Burning Man, and if you have to be a topless 20something with an awesome, yet petite, rack and a name like Ariadne Aurora Novastar. Au contraire, he told me. Clothing is optional, but the option lies with me.
And then he asked if I wanted to be part of his Burning Man camp this year. August 2010. He told me to read up on it at The Burning Man Project site. Said it would answer some of my questions.
It did, and it didn’t. But I remain mightily intrigued:
FIRST-TIMER’S GUIDE
Once a year, tens of thousands of people gather in Nevada’s Black Rock Desert (also known as “the playa”) to create Black Rock City, a temporary metropolis dedicated to community, art, self-expression, and self-reliance. They depart one week later, having left no trace whatsoever.
Even considering going to Burning Man for the first time can be daunting. And while it’s true that Burning Man is not for the faint of heart, with some research, preparation, and planning, an experience — and opportunity — beyond your wildest dreams awaits you. In Black Rock City, you’re guaranteed not to be the weirdest kid in the classroom. And you’ll become a part of the growing community of Burners who are active year-round, around the world … ensuring that the fire of Burning Man culture never goes out.
My friend P. said that they greet you at the gates of Black Rock City with the words, “Welcome home.” I nearly teared up at that. “Welcome home.” Dang it. Because ain’t that just what I’m looking for. Ain’t it just.
Home.
*****
I am a Burning Man virgin, as they say. I sure as heck ain’t the original variety. I am going to check in with P. later this week, to make sure his invitation to join his camp was the real deal.
I forget sometimes that I was a Studio Art major at Grinnell, and a Theatre minor. I would like to forget that I have a Master’s in Acting and Playwriting, since I still owe $60,000 unpayable dollars in student loans for that detour. I forget that I used to wake up every day and consider myself an artist. Nothing fancy, but an artist. Somebody who used to make stuff, good stuff, regularly.
Art used to feel like home.
I’d like to find home again. I wonder if a week of art installations and dust and heat and all-night drum circles and gift-giving and free love (maybe I’ll just observe that particular facet) and waiting in line for Porta-Potties (if only I could just observe) would shake up my soul, burn the remaining bombed-out walls of my spirit to the ground.
Welcome home.
*****
Have you gone? Would you go? Are there camps solely for those with busted hearts and sagging breasts and dreams gone completely missing? Oh, baby. Speak to me, Burners. O, verily, speak.
{ 1 trackback }
{ 31 comments… read them below or add one }
Eh, like anything, something is lost when an event becomes an EVENT. I haven’t been to burning man, so I can’t say for sure. Bring sunscreen! I would rather spend a week walking the streets of some exotic locale – Prague, Beijing, Cleveland.
Burning man or otherwise I think this plan of yours to get re-inspired by art is brilliant. Even if it just stays online there are soooo many happy Theater blogs, art blogs, design blogs, DIY interior blogs… I swear even on my most unproductive, uninspired and broke as sh*t days, I find comfort in looking at pretty things on the internet. And if you find an opportunity to experience the massive spectacle of Burning Man, I am all for it. Make it a big project and run with it. DO IT.
Really, Burning Man IS Curves–a quicky artsy tune-up rather than a demanding fine-arts personal trainer.
And slightly less expensive than BlogHer (which I couldn’t afford even when it was right in my backyard) and probably a heck of a lot more fun if you’d rather be a dusty free-thinking rebel instead of mingling over delicious cocktails while a maid changes your linens.
Maybe you could incorporate it into a West Coast family visit?
You do know why they are all topless, yes? The end of August in the Nevada desert will be somewhere between 140 and 160 degrees in the sun, and there is no shade. If there were, the temperature would be in the neighborhood of 120-125 IN THE SHADE.
Yes, do get back into your art. I am taking my first-ever drawing class and loving it. I find that for the first couple hours I don’t think about anything except the art – not the house, the bills, anything. You could do it on your own, but if you can find an adult ed class sponsored by your local schools or parks and rec, join in. You’ll meet new people, learn new techniques; it’s virtually free, a couple pieces of charcoal and some newsprint paper are all you need.
I may not write often but I read always, and worry when you’re down. mesue
the only reason I wouldn’t go is because its too hot. Sounds like an experience y ou should try at least once.
I registered for the BlogHer NYC conference. It’s the first time I’ve done such a thing and I’m a little terrified. The thought of going to Burning Man seems less daunting to me.
But… I’m going. I will face down that fear. Like so many places in my life, I will go in there feeling as if I don’t belong. Like the PTO and the legions of degreed college graduates at my work and the more. I hope I will come out of it less of a misfit. In fact, if I come out of it with a friend, that will be a success.
Yeah, though – friend making seems so much harder once we grow up. I just blogged about how my 5 year old takes approximately 27 seconds to meet a new BFF and I wonder where that ability gets lost along the way.
If you do rethink BlogHer, maybe we could use the buddy system. I could carry the vodka, and you could carry the tequila. Let me know.
I’m going to BlogHer. For the first time. By myself. For reasons that escape me. So, you wouldn’t be alone or anything because I’d be there and we could sit in my hotel room and discuss Life. Or drink JustLinda’s vodka. Of course, I don’t know JustLinda so I probably would be too shy to drink her vodka unless she forced it on me. Look! I’m awkward already!
I’ve wondered about Burning Man for a few years as well. Curious enough to wonder irregularly; apathetic enough not to bother doing even a little bit of research on it other than what I chance to encounter on teh intarwebz. (This last sentence defines me more than I care to admit in meatspace.)
Have you ever met anybody who told you they felt like they fit in? I used to think I was the only one who felt out of place, but then they invented blogs and I started to see that almost everyone who wrote them talked about not fitting in. Now that I have my eyes opened to it , the more I read and pay attention, I think none of us feel like we fit it. That’s why beer and liquor companies make so much money.
A couple of folks that I went to high school with (way back in 88) have gone and had a great time. I think you should go and scratch that itch (and possibly find your tribe), but I think you should go WITH some one for 1) safety and 2) security. The latter if they turn out to all be 20 years old and boobrrrific. Wish I could go, but I got a toddler and no money.
And i should qualify–we graduated 88, but these folks went in the early 2000. We be old.
I’m going to BlogHer again. I flew my scared ass across the country all alone to SF in 2008, had a lonely time there. Met some amazing people and got really inspired by a few of them, but also felt pretty insignificant. Went to Chicago last summer with my beloved cousin and had a truly wonderful time. Blew off a lot of stuff and just focused on the people. I’m going again this year, but I’m not interested in all of the “finding your niche” and “building your brand” stuff, so I’ll probably be even more off the conference grid this year. I’ve been telling everyone who thinks it isn’t for them that it IS for them, they just have to make plans to meet up with a few people and all will be good. I’m just too old – the thought of popping my Burning Man cherry is exhausting rather than exhilarating!
(And you know, I hear there is art – and air conditioning – in NY.)
We went to Burning Man for my 30th birthday. It was a do-it-exactly-once-in-your-life experience.
It is exactly as hot and dusty as threatened and then some, and playa dust is a special kind of insidious dust that you’ll still be vacuuming out of your ear canals the following year. The prescribed lowered social boundaries lead to some weirdly exaggerated gender stuff: some of the women in our group got really tired of being constantly hit on and photographed; while the guys could wander all day completely ignored. And the last day, I thought, took on an unpleasant frat-party atmosphere: thousands of people showed up right at the end just to look at the naked boobies and to set things on fire. (This was years ago when BM was in the news a lot, so maybe that will be less of a problem now that it’s a little less trendy.)
All that said, much of the art is amazing, the fact of this temporary city appearing in this alien landscape is literally awesome, the “participate, don’t spectate” ethos is a good one, and there are some real moments of grace and good people of all ages and shapes to be found, especially in the first few days before the big crowds show up.
Alternatively, there are smaller and more local festivals that hit a lot of the same notes, without most of the drawbacks; there’s Firefly in VT (which I haven’t been to yet), or Spiritfire (which is wonderful)…
Hey! Remember how I almost didn’t go to our Grinnell reunion because I was going to have to tell people I’m temping? And remember what happened when I told you I was temping? I think you could show up at either of these and find out that you didn’t need to be scared.
xoxox
PS — Still temping.
oh, please, please, please come to blogher. otherwise i’m afraid i won’t have anyone to laugh with.
you could ALSO go to burning man. just saying.
Yeah, Burning Man can be hot and dusty (and occasionally thunderstorm-y, just to keep it interesting) and there are a lot of fratboy yahoos around on Friday and Saturday. But holy crap, it’s mindblowing, especially the first time you go.
I’ve gone for the last 10 years. I’m 40. I still walk around topless if I feel like it. Fortunately the culture out there is such that people actually make eye contact, and a cheerful “Nice rack!” can be answered with an equally cheerful “thank you!”
It’s the best getaway ever. In my experience, when you don’t have regular day to day stuff keeping you busy, you also can process the other stuff in pretty short order. The Temple burn is deeply moving (very different from the party when the Man burns). Plus, seeing all the art out there is really inspiring and can kickstart all the creativity that has been set aside for years.
I’d recommend it, even if only once! But I like go to home regularly.
Jenn, I think Burning Man sounds great. You may not find that you’re home, but you may find nobody else is either and it’s okay no matter the size and state of your rack.
I had an interesting experience attending an annual meeting of a “society” I’m in and whose cause I’m deeply committed to. Not only was I not “home”, I couldn’t even find anyone within 10 years of my age range on either side. It made me realize that perhaps this is my job in this life, to be slightly lost and lonely but to bring my gifts anyway, because I can.
Best wishes from a fellow traveler.
ah, yes. The Burn.
the cure for whatever ails you. i think i found jesus, gumby and the north star all on the same night.
I will not be going to BlogHer unless I am given a ticket. BlogHer is probably too commercial and catty for me anyway. Although I would like to meet a few people IRL.
I used to live in SF, and I have some friends who go to Burning Man. They love it. (They are artists who also love playdates.) I never went. I think the Burning Man phase of my life is over. Instead I am on Facebook. And so is my mother!
I never heard of Burning Man until I read this and I won’t ever go to BlogHer (I’m not a blogger). I just wanted to comment on this: “I forget that I used to wake up every day and consider myself an artist. Nothing fancy, but an artist. Somebody who used to make stuff, good stuff, regularly.” I think your blog posts are some good stuff that you make regularly. Your writing is an art all its own.
Dude, DUDE, I’m so antsy to write this comment I had to begin it three separate times. I’ve been toying with writing a Blogger v. Burning Man post lately. See, all of my friends began attending Burning Man in ’99. And have gone every subsequent year. A lot of that crew are very into drugs. Heavily. Into. Drugs. For them, the whole event is about being fucked-up for a week +. (Which is – ooky to me. *shiver*) I did loads of drugs when I was in my early-mid twenties but I’ve proceeded beyond that phase, and now, the idea of going to a place where that’s all people are doing around me x all that sand + porta-potty madness, ++++extra-hot-OMG-WAHHH, owwie, my pale, sore, pasty Euro-flesh = NO. Just, no. (And I’m a post-acting-school, post-band-member, post-artist mom-type. I yearn, especially lately, for art, in its every unpredictable form, to surround me, especially recently. I miss it so. I want it back.)
(But. Burning Man is not that place. I know it so well from all of the detailed stories I’ve heard every year. And it is NOT that place. It’s a place to experience art while your mind is expanded on multitudes of intoxicants. Almost no one is sober. Which — hey. Maybe that’s your bag?)
Allow me to back up Velma 100% on why BlogHer can be awesome. Further, allow me to point out how buried in people you will be the moment anyone recognizes you or finds out who you are. There’ll be a $#%# stampede to get to you. Holy Toledo. Breathe a word of your attending, even potentially, and the VIP invites will begin rolling in on a conveyor belt.
(You may or may not like that part. But BlogHer is, truly, whatever you make it. And you can tailor it to be just one big sorority weekend of your favorite Blogging Lady-Peeps, if you want. Blow off the whole serious element. Make stronger bonds with those you already love. Have insanely righteous hours-long hotel-room conversations where you sit/lie down/jump on the bed, talk yourself silly with people who will blow your mind sky-high with revelations about themselves, with their kindness, with their generosity, with their love. And the only hangover you’ll have will [probably] be the resulting sadness from knowing you have to wait a whole year to do it all again.)
Please go to BlogHer. (Yes. Am being totally selfish. Want to meet you. Nay, want to merely catch a glimpse of you from across a crowded room and say, HOLY CRIPES. That’s Jenn. From BEAW. *collapse*)
I agree with the difficulty of making friends as we get older. I hate that – because in my heart I still want to meet a new best friend, to not feel a need to get on a plane to Portland or Seattle or Chicago or the Berkshires just to be with someone who knows me and loves me unconditionally. (Besides the people who live in my house with me.) Those old friends of ours really are something special, and I wish I could figure out why nothing else compares. Because I keep putting myself out there, and keep being reminded that I simply don’t belong. Maybe I just have not looked in the mirror enough to be reminded that I am 40 now, and that people just don’t open their hearts up like 20 year olds when they are 40. I guess we were supposed to have it all figured out by now? Have acquired all the friends we need?
I am sure that if P. offered the invitation, he still means it. P. is nothing if not sincere.
My husband has been dying to go to Burning Man for eons. (And that’s a lot of dying). Whenever he suggests looking into it, all I can reply is, “But the bathrooms? Where are they?” I’ll do a lot for love, but peeing next to a cactus does not make the list.
Also, if my mom ever signed onto Facebook, I’d have to disable my account. Or disable her. Something would be disabled, I know that much.
Debbi, i obsess says this about BlogHer, “… BlogHer is, truly, whatever you make it. And you can tailor it to be just one big sorority weekend of your favorite Blogging Lady-Peeps, if you want. Blow off the whole serious element. Make stronger bonds with those you already love. Have insanely righteous hours-long hotel-room conversations where you sit/lie down/jump on the bed, talk yourself silly with people who will blow your mind sky-high with revelations about themselves, with their kindness, with their generosity, with their love. And the only hangover you’ll have will [probably] be the resulting sadness from knowing you have to wait a whole year to do it all again.”
And truthfully, I think you can say the same about Burning Man. I’ve gone 10 times in the past 12 years and I’m usually around a bunch of sober people. If your going there with a crew into doing a lot of drugs then all of their stories are going to be about doing a lot of drugs. If you go with the intention of seeing a world of art and meeting new people then you will come home having seen a bunch of art and having connected with new people.
You will be a rock star at burning man but so will everyone else.
Jenn,
1) Blogher and burning man both sound intimidating, but in different ways.
2) My friends who’ve gone say it’s the most amazing experience of people living in harmony, making art, love and food all in the absence of $.
3) If you drive, you’ve got a place to stay in Southern Colorado on the way there and back.
4) I say, why not go?
my best friend, v, is insistent i go to burning man once in my life. she loves it.
i agree that i should go, at least once, too.
some things to bring (per ms. v, who is an expert);
bandana (to cover face during dust storms)
copious amounts of sunscreen
coconut water and lighters (two *very* hot trading commodities)
lotsa love
and about the boobies – i hear you, mama. but on the same token, let us all us mamas remember – these bodies created, housed, grew and sustained our children. we are utterly women.
there is not much in the world more beautiful than that.
Hey, I found you through 6 degrees of blogging! You are being featured on my blog today! http://lumpsonablog.blogspot.com/
I’ve never been to Burning Man either. Attended (& forgot much of) my fair share of other festivals, but that one has yet to be crossed off the list. I say go for it. Go with no expectations or intentions but to people watch & maybe find a little bit of yourself in them. And, take a bunch of sunscreen & boatloads of water. Good luck with the journey.
you were featured on 6 degrees of blogging!! congrats!!! wonderful blog you have!! looking forward to reading more!!
Julia
http://www.workwifemomlife.com
(brainchild behind the 6 Degrees of Blogging)
I’m going to BlogHer for the 2nd time and I know I’ll have the same reaction this year: some truly great moments and some where I’ll feel completely invisible and lost.
If Burning Man involves dancing to great music for hours and hours under the hot sun, go for it. But if it has sponsors and forced authenticity and “free Coke Zero” booths, eh. You can get that at BlogHer without getting on a plane.
Hi, Jenn. My daughter went to Burning Man last year to make her boyfriend happy, but that was the wrong reason to go, she says, and she has broken up with him since then. She reports, and I quote, “There’s lots of nudity, drugs, a lot of people acting out. They say it’s the only place they can be themselves. It also is extremely white, but people go there in the spirit of making art, being open with each other, sharing what they have.”
I’ve kind of always wanted to go to burning man but never have. Now I am too old. I fear that I would want to take my top off but then I would be too intimidated to do so, thus creating all sorts of unneccesary angst. But you should go an write all about it. Oh, I forgot, the heat. I don’t think I would want the heat either, and I live in south Texas so am sorta acclimated. Hey, you could come here in August and we could sit out in the backyard by the pool with our tops off and think about how artsy we are. (And then we could go in and nap in the AC)
There is a festival in a town fairly close to me that I have gone to for almost 20 years. It has the sam esign at the entrance and it is fun. it’s a music festival, but it is in the hill country in early June. Not nearly as hot- sometimes rainy. You should go there. More lowkey and not as far. I will even go with you.
http://www.kerrville-music.com/fest_photos.htm
Check out the pics. It is great to lay out on the gorund at night under the stars and listen to the music. Then people play in the campground all night too – not drums – guitar. A serenade to sleep by.
And I think you are wrong about Blogher– you would be loved and surrounded. I’ve never been and never will, but I say that with certainty.