Thursday, September 04, 2008

The Roller Disco At The End Of Time

Even when storms raise the desert into an angry Genie of clawing dust and bitter cold, some things are eternal. Huddled on the roof of a bus, unable to see further than three feet in the apocalypse, holding to one another to keep warm, our village found its way home because of fire and funk. The fire of our little village square, lit by propane pumped through welded objects and the funk of the Black Rock Roller Disco which kept on playing disco despite all the players on the playa at Burning Man being genuinely fearful for their survival.

Got back to Illumination Village and huddled around a four-foot tall burning mushroom and watched as people came in from the cold. Within minutes, we had gin to keep our spirits up, nachos to keep our bellies full and started throwing fireworks at each other just to be very sure indeed that we all know where home really is. Not in a society based on taking rather than giving, not in a world where advertising slogans aren't funny, not a world where clothing is mandatory and gender is set in stone.

No, this trip has meant I've joined the ranks of the thousands of dispossessed people who live in Black Rock City and are in temporary accomodation for the rest of the year. I think it's safe to say that I'd love to go again if I can. You'll find more photos over on Flickr. Have a look at them while I try to get my head around real life and try to work out what else might have happened on the Friday that we forgot and suspect was eaten by wolves.


James Cronin said...

That's just feral.

The Pirate King said...

I'm saying nothing.

Wolves lurk in every shadow.

Knit Nurse said...

hello and welcome back! Where's the pom poms?!