sojourn ever dumbening to the desert it begins today unchanged i transform 020826 ... paste! do tell! 020907 ... ever dumbening still recovering the waves will come 020907 ... ever dumbening Always asked: "How was burning man?" I always respond: "It was [slight pause] burning man." *** Even before I realized what my answer meant, before the gravity of gravity had anchored my drifting, I was saying this. And this being my third year, it is my second opportunity to compare it to the year before. Again I can only give cryptic answers: "It was better than last year; it was worse than last year; it was exactly the same." *** to the desert it begins today unchanged i transform *** The theme this year was The Floating World. I decided, for this trip to Black Rock City, to undertake the process of creating my own art installation. Though, in fact, it more or less chose me. Gifting is a key for many of the attendees, and it can take many forms. A helping hand or a well-timed cold beer. Simple. Immediate. I love giving and receiving these, yet a small hand-crafted keepsake can generate large smiles, the likes of which are rarely seen outside of Tibet. This is a way, too, for people who consider themselves creative not artistic to pass along small quanta of personal energy, to "participate." Last year I carved little medallions out of tagua nut. With this year's theme in mind I headed to the beach. I started collecting sea glass. The idea of taking this beautiful offering of the ocean, this trash turned to shine, and making pendants as gifts for the desert had the strong feel of right. This idea then became _the_ idea. One little piece became several thousand. [Even our man paste! contributed gloriously.] I took all of this polished glass and mounted it to a 3' X 4' piece of plexiglas. A mosaic of waste. A stained glass window. A giant fish. *** Stress. Anger. Frustration. Every step was filled with obstacles. The final phase was plagued with several nights of tense insomnia. But it happened; it floated above the desert floor, surrounded by blue waves of fabric, above carpet and pillows. And they came. *** When does a child become an artist? I'll let you know when I know. *** A good portion of the past year for me has been learning how to view shit as fertilizer. Previously, I only knew how to see the shit. Broken glass, with time water sand, becomes a magnet for her beautiful eyes and a trigger for her electric smile. This journey - I'm learning - never ends. I imagine that if I come back from the playa and my answer changes to "Great," that I will have done something wrong. 020915 ... Piso Mojado . 050216 what's it to you? who go blather from