The first two days begin to become too intertwined to separate into discrete events, but I'll try. Tuesday may have been the day Kim found me at camp. Earlier, I was riding around with The Profuser and he had mentioned how difficult it was to find anyone out there on the playa. We prowled the DPW Ghetto to try and find his associate, The Cobra Commander, but to no avail. Prof pontificated that we'd never be able to find anyone - his friends or mine. He turned out to be wrong on both counts, not yet aware of the magic hidden in the desert dust.
Back at camp I was spinning poi in the sun, and as I glanced up I saw Kim standing there smiling. Excitedly, I dropped the poi and rushed her, elated. I hadn't seen her in what felt like years. We briefly caught up and she introduced me to her partner Simon. He and I spoke at length about fear and trust, vulnerability and love. The sun, low in the sky toward the west, glowed pink behind a thin curtain of dust, as though silhouetted behind a steamy shower door. There was a quote Simon had relayed, one which I enjoyed, but it escapes me now, frustratingly.
I gave them a tube of glow-sticks for safety and sent them on their way, encouraging them to chase the sunset around until it came up behind them. I'd see her soon at Chelsea's wedding.
Come to think of it, I'd seen her at some point before the wedding, maybe Wednesday...during the day? I can't recall when it was exactly, but Prof and Yu had wandered over to 8:30 to try and find Kim's sister Chelsea, who we luckily saw in between camps. We said hello to her husband Nolan, and then she led us to Kim. There we met Hadley, an awesomely cool and artistic Aussie who regaled us with short stories he'd written and art he'd made. We laughed and ate the most delicious vegan pancakes I'll likely ever eat. Kim kept feeding me, telling me I was too thin. I wondered whether I was to be a human sacrifice later in the day. She had me sit in a big iron cauldron black and bulbous, full of grey-water, while they placed small logs around the base to get an idea of what they were working with.
I don't remember what happened that night. Perhaps the Profuser and I rode out to deep playa where we looked in awe upon the city in all its electromagnetic glory. We stumbled upon a movie theater, ostentatiously furnished, with a feigned brick facade, elaborately crafted victorian chairs and carpets adorning the entry. Thrusting through the darkness we came upon a sculpted cock decorated with still smaller cocks. Amused, I exclaimed "Wow, a giant dick with dicks all over it!" Laughter sounded from within, so we quickly dismounted and crawled through the shaft to greet the invisible occupants of the testes. A couple and their gay friend, lounging in the warm and furry scrotum, greeted us...warmly. All of us, made soft by ecstasy's soothing song, conversed and laughed like swimming sperm inside a pair of big old balls. Another group, hearing our revelry, shot at us menacingly with magic laser wands. Luckily the gay guy was armed with some alien technology and he fired shots into the air, ejaculating light and sound. We heard one of them call out "I've been hit. Got me right in the eye." We all laughed and emigrated out via the vas defrens, searching for some other place to occupy.
Strangely, I wanted eggs.
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Day 1
Ozymandias
Shouting woke me during the early morning dawn, after 3.5 hours of sleep. Latecomers (or early, depending how you look at it) announced their arrival and assailed our ears asking for assistance. Jay bellowed and marched militantly from tent to tent like Gestapo. I hid under the air-mattress inside my tent like Anne Frank, in tears, praying he wouldn't find me. Soon, finding I was unable to sleep due to the coming heat, I exited the tent and revealed myself to the new regime. They turned out to be fairly self sufficient and required none of my help.
I had breakfast, and took a shower with baby-wipes. I applied sunscreen and cracked open a beer. The day had begun.
Incremental repairs were made to the bar and the dancehall. I wired blue and white lights onto the spokes of my front and rear tires, and I zip-tied a basket to the back of my bike. Storage and lights, check. The playa beckoned me but there was work to be done at camp. Cold beers kept us cool. The breeze painted smiles across sweaty faces.
Once night fell, armed with rock-candy and some poisoned porcini, the Profuser and I vanished into the dark twilight. We marveled at explosions and fireworks, and saw a giant multicolored LED dandelion. Or maybe it was a toilet scrubber. Then I was saved by the reanimated remains of a colossal sea serpent, its ivory bones danced and jangled around me like wind-chimes while I lie prone beneath its razorsharp teeth. Then we stumbled upon one of several zoetropes. With this piece of art The Profuser was sold. I saw it in his eyes. He got it. Standing there, amid strobes and far away flames, fireworks sizzling the air overhead, the night's potential swelled like a rising wave.
We rode it toward the next zoetrope which wasn't animating. The desert heathens couldn't organize an organic beat, and instead each of them banged on drums to their own discordant rhythm. I saw that I needed to take action; the piece beckoned me to remedy the situation. I entered the circle as the Chief, and commanded the Indians with my persuasive percussion. The primal jungle beat I began banging besieged the disorder, drumming up a semblance of unity. Soon the piece started spinning and lights started pulsing. I stared up and watched a swinging ape devour a snake, and continued to stare, hypnotized, the art devouring me. Walking back to old Prof, I saw he was still entranced by the crazed carousel. "Come on," I said, "it's time for some carousing."
We rode ourselves ragged looking at all the art that night, and we needed rest. We stumbled across some aptly named asylum: Deep Heaven. We sprawled out on comfy couches and pillows, dim blue christmas lights glowing all around us. The sound of a girl laughing kept the smiles from leaving our faces. We watched people drive by on kaleidoscopic and colorful hover-boards. Art-cars full of fog machines and lasers danced past us, bouncing in time with their passengers.
My eyes gently began to close. On ecstasy in Deep Heaven.
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