City By Quito
I just got home from seeing Austin Powers Goldmember for the second time. I didn't want to see it again but it was a vote of three to one and I lost. It was okay I got laugh at the scene where Austin sits or stands on Mini Me's shoulders in the sailor suit. I think the way he moved his hands when he walked was hysterical.
I was an anxious mess today. I don't really know why, things went wrong, but not horribly wrong, not enough to make my hands shake and my voice go up a notch and become quivery. Thank God for Scott, he came over and lay down with me and pet my head and listened to me and then I felt better. Its all just boring mundane daily stuff; Esther couldn't come, and there was a miscommunication over my sick rattie's antibiotics, and Jose the carpenter stood us up, again, and then after waiting for two weeks and being stuck home all day waiting for the Verizon DSL guy to come, he called and asked if it was really true that I had X number of cats, and when I said, "Yes it's true, why do you think I told them that, if I wasn't concerned about their making sure they didn't send anyone who was allergic to cats?" he said, "Oh well, I'm allergic to cats." Eeeeeeeyaaaaaaaargh! Then when he finally did come, one hour past the last hour they said he would be here by, he brought a friend who seemed totally confused by what I wanted. "Oh you wanted a new DSL account! Ohhhhhhh. Why didn't you say so??? I can't do anything about that." I did say so...TO THE MORONS I SPOKE TO ON THE PHONE!!!!!!!!!!!!! So what do you think I did? Yes, I took a Xanax. Is this how you become addicted? I suppose I could stay away from the Xanax and just become addicted to the pain medication my Mom gave me, that she doesn't want, whadda ya think? Should I? Should I?
Cousin Red by Hovering
I'm just really missing being on the playa. I miss the dust and being naked. I miss our little village and our friends. I miss the endless visual feast. I miss being able to go to a twelve step meeting in the middle of a fucking desert surrounded by drug addled zombies. I miss the inspiration, the creative expression, the feeling of community and being more myself there than I am when I'm anywhere else. I don't miss falling off my bike and bruising my calves and thighs, while trying to bring home some ice from Camp Arctica, I don't miss the constant threat of dehydration and heat exhaustion, and the feeling that I'm missing something when I need to just collapse in the RV. Oh and I definitely don't miss the really bad flu I got from this woman who came to us for help last year, who we thought was suffering from heat exhaustion, but who turned out to be realllly sick with a terrible flu that all of us brought home with us from the desert.
I thought there was no way we could go. I thought Mom would really be needing me right now, but I'd rather be on the receiving end of this miracle by association, and to be sitting here right now thinking, "Gosh we really could have gone," than the alternative. I'm so glad my mother is doing this well, and in a way I'm glad I didn't have to work my bottom off getting us there and back like I always do every year. Although I didn't realize how upset I was about missing it until I was sitting here in front of the computer watching the live feed today and my neck started tensing up and my hands started shaking and I thought, with growing alarm, "Hey, what is this, woah, this feels like an anxiety attack."
I'm really missing the sounds of Burning Man, and the playa dust, and the exhaustion of it all. I love coming home to our little camp and laying down in the mess we've made, helping each other take off our mud caked boots and collapsing, listening to Burning Man radio, listening to the sounds of people partying and playing drums in the distance, the occasional whoop whoop of someone riding by on a bicycle, the jingle of bells on the hem of someone's skirt, drinking cold water from the mini fridge, and the stars that I can just see through the cheap metal blinds. I am sending my heart out over the grapevine, and past Sacramento, and across the mountains, and over Reno and all of it's lights, and carefully obeying the speed limit through little Gerlach, and out on to the playa and into the arms of my sleeping friends, in their tents, and cars, and motor homes. I'm sending them my love and my wish for their happiness and safety, and I hope that next year I'll be stronger and healthier, more fit and able to go.
The Man Burns by Quito