Preparation Boiling Point - Burning Man 2010

Every year I go to Burning Man, at some point it reaches a boiling point, and the reality of it all begins to overwhelm. I start second guessing myself. Am I forgetting something? Do I have enough food, water, equipment, booze?

Black Rock City is an amazing place, but it's also a dangerous place. The conditions are extremely harsh, and those of us that take the Radical Self Reliance Principle seriously, don't want to be caught unprepared. In years past I have always been over prepared, but that was when I went with my kids in tow. When going alone, I find myself in an odd middle ground between wanting to be prepared and wanting to stick to the KISS method. You know, Keep It Simple Stupid.

The thing is, it takes a lot of planning to go to the desert for spontaneous expression. You have to plan for water (one and a half gallons a day), food and the storage of perishables (there's a dry ice strategy to be employed), wardrobe (that is equal in both form and function), gifts (preferably hand made and/or pragmatic), health care (sun screen, baby wipes, hand sanitizer) and equipment (including a bike, tools, illumination, zip ties, and Gorilla tape). Getting ready for a full week of Radical Self Reliance, where you are completely responsible for your own well being, requires forethought and imagination. But that's OK, because that's a lot of what Burning Man is about: forethought and imagination.

The Playa is a place where one can be at the whim of imagination. Creativity is encouraged. Realization of vision is admired. As a community we dare to do brave things that we wouldn't do in the Default World. We hug like we mean it, all the time. We practice generosity. And although one of our principles is Radical Self Reliance, we look out for each other. Art and expression are the foundations of our culture, as is acceptance and participation. It's no wonder that when we get there, the greeters always say, "Welcome Home."

Flipping Bikes for Burning Man

Serendipity is a funny thing. On the years I carefully plan and save money for Burning Man, the preparation is a year long affair. The times when I only decide to go after the cheap tickets are gone, somehow, the resources materialize.

Monday, on the week of the Burn last year I was lamenting how much I wanted to be on the Playa. By Thursday, I was there. I was randomly gifted a ticket, a gift that I will never forget. Fast forward to June of this year. I was once again fretting about missing the event, now at the end of July, with my other plans unexpectedly changed, I have a ticket and about 75% of my equipment and supplies.

Since, this year’s trip wasn’t planned, I had to come up with a fast scheme to raise the money. I decided to try bike flipping. And by bike flipping I don’t mean juggling bikes on a street corner for tips, but finding forgotten unwanted bikes at yard and estate sales, fixing them and selling at a profit.

There’s quite a market for used and vintage bikes (those that are at least 30 years old). And most of my buyers appreciate the work I put into them. Usually it’s a new inner tube and maybe some rust removal. Sometimes it’s fresh tires too. And almost always it’s cleaning grease and goop from in between gears with cotton swabs and WD40. They come out looking like the amazing treasures they are.
Now that the Burn is drawing nigh, I have started flipping Burner bikes. The best way to traverse the Playa is by bike. And when peddling through packed alkali dust you don’t want to be on your best bike. You want to take the bike that won’t break your heart if it doesn’t survive the trip. So now in addition to cool vintage bikes, I look for not so cool but still very useful bikes with big fat tires. Although some people are adverse to what I do, buy low, sell high, but when I tell them what I use the proceeds for they almost invariably approve.

After doing some math in my head, I figured out that I will have flipped at least 20 bikes before the Man Burns. At this point that’s six more bikes and 36 more days. I wouldn’t be surprised if I hit 25 or 30. Regardless, I’ve found a new pastime that benefits more than just me. Anybody wanna buy a bike?

Burn Baby Burn

It's that time of year, when Burners can recognize each other by a shared frenzied gleam in the eye.

It's Burning Man season.

In the months prior to Burning Man, an annual festival of expression in the Black Rock Desert, participants plan, scheme, create and fantasize about the one week event staged on an ancient lake bed in the Black Rock Desert where we build our city. Yes, I say we, because I will once again be going home, and home is what we call the Playa.

With plenty of time to plan, I've taken to making a series of list for my preparations: Things I Need, Things I Want, and Things Not to Forget. These augment a master list I keep for packing, which includes Clothing, Health & Safety, Tools & Equipment, Food, and Sundries. It takes a lot of organization to go out and be spontaneously expressive, which is the Irony of Burning Man.

The level of organization that goes into the event rivals that of most military operations. It's a place where one can participate in self expression without caring what others think, but not a place to be careless in terms of safety and well being. Its very hot, and dry and there's always a lot going on, so attention to detail is of utmost importance. Things like forgetting goggles and a dust mask on a trip to the Jonny on the Spot can prove dangerous when you open the door to a white out dust storm.

This year, I came up with a scheme to raise money for the Playa by flipping bikes. I buy old, forgotten, forlorn bikes found at yard sales or in dusty basements at estate sales, clean them, fix them, and then resell at a profit to appreciative buyers. It's proven to be an effective strategy. In five short weeks, I managed to raise enough money for both my ticket and my camp fees. Plus it's therapeutic giving these bikes a second life and feels kind of zen which is quite appropriate for funding this trip.

So now the countdown begins.

Seeing ourselves in our kids

My kids are getting older. It's undeniable now. We have entered the realm of acne and twenty minute showers. But luckily, for me at least, they haven't left the building yet. They still tolerate me in general, and will even acknowledge me in public. I like to think that it's because I allow them ample opportunities for expression.

I'll be truthful. My kids are, well...twisted. I'm sure it has something to do with an early introduction to Shel Silverstein and the inordinate amount of Monty Python they watched as younglings. This had an early impact. I admit, I was proud when my then 6 year old wanted to dress as King Arthur with coconuts in his hands for Halloween. Of course, Monty Python led to harder things, like The Simpson's, Family Guy and That 70's Show. Add Mythbusters and Colbert Report, plus key flicks from TCM, and well you get what I have now: a would be evil genius and one that is always looking for a punchline.

All I can do is hope that I've provided them with good references.

I was recently reminded about references when I took BART to work last week from an early morning appointment in Oakland. Those who know me, know that I prefer public transit, but not so much when it is filled with school aged kids.

Spring is field trip season. Every year starting around March, scads of backpack laden children, with yarn necklace name tags and a few anxious looking chaperons cue up for day trip adventures. I have vivid memories of these forays into the adult world. It was like glimpsing into a secret life I wasn't supposed to know about.

The children on BART seemed to be having a similar experience.

"Look, that's where my daddy works."
"There's the freeway!"
"That's the bakery!"

I tried to drown out their exclamations with my reading material, but it proved fruitless without earphones. So I pocketed my magazine and watched the activity that went with the dialogue.

The group of kids closest to me seemed to be playing some sort of game like Slug Bug. They were looking for something specific, and then punched each other in the arm when they found it. At first I thought it was cars, but that didn't seem to be it. Then I thought it could be a type of store, but that wasn't right either. It wasn't until we started heading underground that I understood what they were looking at.

As the train lowered between the two concrete walls covered with graffiti, the children suddenly oohed and awed. What they were identifying in their game were graffiti tags. This was their reference.

Reference is an interesting thing. Reference is simile. It's what we use to help us contextualize the world, a way of making things familiar. And it wasn't until this experience, that I truly understood the significance and value of reference, how it contributes to perspective and influences understanding.

I started to wonder what such a reference would yield for these children, but decided to take another crack at my reading as the train slipped underground. The noise of the transbay tunnel would surely drown out their voices.

Seen enough or too much?

"I've seen enough to know I've seen too much," so said the baseball announcer in the movie A League of their Own. Perhaps. When exactly does one realize that they have seen enough?

Apparently that time is now for Reality TV. This according to blog entry at MediaPost.com today that reported only 2 of the 36 shows in the works are for the fall season are of that genre. "There must be reality show burn-out among viewers and advertisers," writes West Coast Editor Wayne Friedman.

Gee. Ya think?

Friedman goes on to state that advertisers want better story telling, and I can't help but wonder why. Could it be that shows that are essentially produced for their voyeuristic qualities attract the most passive of audiences?

Maybe we have turned a corner!

Maybe, we as a society are ready to re-engage! Imagine it. No longer will we sit back at home watching other peoples lives while forsaking our own. We will actually be out there doing those things, making things happen, initiating dialogue, interacting with each other on a regular basis. Forget tanorexic over-privileged bimbo wannabees who despite everything they have are increasingly dissatisfied with life. Forget exaggerated opportunities used to induce contestants to seek their 15 minutes of fame by showcasing both real and perceived talents. Reality is not on TV, it's what you do every day! This is life baby and you are going to be part of it! Your ideas matter! Your participation makes a difference! You can change the...

(from the article)

"The key for many TV advertisers hasn't changed: They still value a new reality show at a discount to a scripted show. And with a suddenly strong TV advertising market, networks seemingly made the easy call: go for the bigger ad money."

Oh.

Well, maybe that means there will at least be something worthwhile to watch?

Maybe.

I've taken a great interest in how the market has changed in the past year. I noticed for instance, how quickly advertisers picked up on the new national mood. The message went from gross indulgence to value for your money in less time than it took for my cell phone to be outdated. And although I joke, action and innovation continue to be the sentiment du jour. Suddenly, major companies like American Express, Pepsi and even Absolute Vodka are introducing campaigns that focus on people's ability to make things happen.




So, maybe it is a good sign that Reality TV is out and creativity is back in, and not for the reason you might think. It could be that Ad Men know something we don't: that it really is much more fun to be a part of the game than to stand on the sidelines and cheer. Then again, they are counting on their message reaching me as I sit on my ass.

Dare to Hope, Hope to Persevere

Another day is done, and once again I’m moving both forward and up and down as the ferry I’m on traverses a northwest current. The days have grown longer and my rides home are now through fading hazy sunshine that reflects across the water as I look across the bay, past Angel Island to the Marin peninsula that gobbles up cars crossing the Golden Gate Bridge.

Spirits are up despite the recent week of horrible news: oil drilling catastrophe, floods, terrorism attempts, and locally, a steady increase in violent crime and another dead whale floating near the San Francisco Ferry Terminal.

I don’t know if it’s that we’ve grown accustomed to these stressful times that we are in, or if maybe there is a glimmer of hope that we might come out OK on the other side of our national financial fiasco. A generation was sold on the idea of wealth, an idea that it seems was never truly intended to apply to them. And now it feels as if nobody wants to jinx whatever cusp we are on. The awkward balancing act is wearing, but at least we haven’t fallen off the deep end. For the moment it seems that most of us have learned to be practical, but I can’t help but wonder if it will be a lesson that sticks.

There are incidental signs though that the economy is improving. Retailers continue to display Help Wanted signs, parking at the Ferry Terminal is just a little more crowded, and I’ve noticed an increase in lunchtime lines at eateries near my office. Tourists have also returned to San Francisco unwittingly participating as voyeurs of our everyday life as they pass by in double-decker busses and rented bicycles. It feels good to work in a place and a community that others travel to, to marvel at.

It’s an odd predicament we have come to be in, where we dare ourselves to hope, hope to persevere, and wait for whatever comes next. At least for the moment, I have sunshine on my way home where garden gnomes wait patiently for my arrival.

Am I gentrified?

Gentrification, a term typically used for the takeover of depressed neighborhoods by those who “see the potential” was injected into panel discussion I attended recently about community based media.

Community Based Media or Citizen Journalism as it is sometimes called is typically that which is produced from within the community, and from the community’s perspective. I’m a big fan of the trend. I think Community Based Media contributes to richer dialogue that helps better our practice of democracy. This, despite the fact that in some cases citizen dialogue adds to phenomena such as the Tea Party and militant militia groups. Overall I believe dialogue is a good thing, and the more voices added to it the better.

But this idea of the gentrification of media really bothered me. One of the panel members openly attacked anyone who was not of the 'Hood, for lack of a better term. In fact even those who live in depressed neighborhoods but were educated he felt was fair game, because obviously those persons were “privileged” enough to go to college.

Although I knew these comments were based in fear and anger more than in fact, I had to ask myself, “Am I gentrified?”

So I went down the check list: Catholic high school, check; college education, check; property owner, check; idealistic notions about social justice that may or may not apply to my specific living situation, check.

It wasn’t looking good, but despite this, I continued down the list and added some qualifiers: first generation working class family that started out working in the fields, check; GI Bill earned after 9 years of military service which paid for college and made home purchase possible, check; ten plus years working in community based organizations and projects, check; a deep commitment to honor the history and legacy of communities, check; nonprofit career that will keep me eternally overworked and underpaid, check.

So yes. In many, many ways, I am privileged. I have a house, a car, a job, and a rarified instance where my work is the same entity as my job. And I won’t deny that I can be an intellectual snob. I can’t help it. I like smart things, smart people and stimulating conversations. But I know enough to know that a) I don’t know much, b) that there is a big difference between having an education and being smart, and c) I know my own conscience and intentions, and they are not to capitalize on the potential of a property or an idea. I’d rather capitalize on the potential of people and their tenacity to survive despite all odds. In fact I want to celebrate it. Thus, my opinion is that there's a big difference between looking for someone to blame for a problem, and looking for ways to solve it.

I think there’s a difference between exploiting a situation for personal gain, and genuinely wanting to improve a situation for all those involved. Like all things, Community Based Media has players on both sides, with conflicting intentions. But we mustn’t paint with such broad strokes, as the panelist I saw last weekend did. Education, although often skewed to the mindset of the rich, does not leave us all with that notion. Many of us see the injustice and want to do everything we can to change it.

Us and them mentality won't yield cohesion...only discord.

Check out Community Based Media sites here:

http://ibvallejo.com/

http://www.blockreportradio.com/

http://oaklandlocal.com/

http://missionlocal.org/

http://sf.everyblock.com/

http://www.poormagazine.org/

http://news.eltecolote.org/news