The morning after
I felt fine, well rested. Then I tried to say ‘good morning’ to someone. While the logic and motor sections of my brain were working fine, the language center was still stoned off it’s ass.
Until noon I had to listen to the embarrassing gobbledygook that came out of my mouth. I tried to run and hide by getting out of the camp and getting around, but for some reason people thought that I knew where I was and where I was going.
So instead of being rude I provided a number of people with useless, incoherent directions. On their faces I could see them decide to discount everything I said and get their directions from someone else.
The rest of Tuesday-
-I spent walking around and taking pictures (the same pictures I posted last week). I really liked some of the art installations, there was a series of 5 gallon water bottles mounted on poles with slits cut in them. In the wind the bottles would make a strange atonal kind of music. And there were the wire hands that were rigged up like an electric guitar for the wind to play.
And the Belgian Waffle House was impressive, it took a long time to get out there but it was worth the walk.
I spent the afternoon in the shade because it was too hot for anything else.
Wednesday, just like Tuesday
That evening I spent walking around again. The camps were starting to come together, lights and screen appeared. The art cars started to roll. But I wasn’t overwhelmed with what I saw. 60% of the camps were just discos even the art cars were just steroes on wheels. This was disappointing. If I liked discos I’d spend more time in clubs.
After walking around for a few hours it occurred to me that Burningman as just not my thing. In the middle of 30,000 people and I’d never felt so alone. So I hitched a ride back to the Reno airport the next day and haven’t regretted it since.