Thursday, September 10, 2015

The Party's Over

It's true. Burning Man is over. The city is all but disappeared and what is left are the crews that will continue to tear down the infrastructure and then gleen the playa of traces that we were here. Although we always pass the BLM inspection in the end, I always find traces of the previous year's burn when we arrive the next year. Usually it's small bits: Coins, an earring, a washer. 

It's these small bits that may tell our legacy. A place where people came, for I don't know what anymore. Yes, there's art, and a temporary community, but the event is growing and changing rapidly. Radical Self Entitlement is real. It feels like there is less participation and more consumerism, not in the commerce sense, but in the sense of those who come and take from the community but contribute little more than trinkets that end up in the bottom of dusty bins and backpacks. For many this is merely a place for self gratification where resources and natural beauty is squandered or commodified for the sake of adulation.

For the last few years I've worked a few other festivals with my burner friends. Some were great. Joshua Tree Music Festival is one I'd do again. The crowd was great, the event was small, and the music ranged from Techno and Dub DJs to new folk Mexican music. Then there were the not so great ones. Symbiosis was like working with the Burning Man D-list where several members of their crew had actually been fired from Burning Man DPW. The crowd there was entitled and decidedly shit-show.  Maybe I'm just getting too old for such recklessness. 

In contrast, the crews I work with at the Burn try very hard to get it right. Yeah,there are egos. A majority of the workers here are type A personalities who believe that their way is the right way. Getting so many of folks such as these, myself included, to work together is one of those things that I think qualifies as Playa Magic.  But still there are melt downs, miscommunications, even malicious behavior. We're human after all. Ultimately, we all know that sun rises and the sun sets providing us with beautiful sights to behold. It's part of what keeps us returning every year. But, I can't help but think the sun rises everywhere and that there are many more adventures to be had. 

At Burning Man one of our Principles is to leave no trace that we were here. But we have left many traces. Beyond the small bits and pieces that get buried in the playa only to resurface at the whim of the wind and rain, there are traces of this counter culture throughout the world now. Dub step can now be heard in TV ads. There are multiple regional burner events, and I heard that in a recent panel discussion, event organizers were grilled by other event mavens to grasp at bits of wisdom to make other festivals more participatory, more like Burning Man.

Burner culture is out there. I can only hope that it's the best of what happens here that gets blended into the mainstream. I'm still thankful for this experience, but ready to see what's next.


Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Burning Man Again

Yup, it's that time of year again. Once again, I'm out on the Playa, for only five weeks this year. Everything is familiar from the routines to the faces, to the conditions, save the bugs. Yeah the bugs were real.

They came in swarms that lasted four to six hours, and then just as soon as they appeared, they would fall to the ground in piles. Some of them bit, some of them stank, some just crawled. It was an experience unlike any other I've ever had out here. You haven't lived till you've sneezed out a bug or flossed them out of your teeth. True story.


I know how lucky I am to have these experiences. I'm so glad my life has been such an adventure. On the side of the Artery, the artist headquarters on Playa, there's a black wall with the words, "Before I Die..." Below those words are places to write things in. When I looked at it I thought, yeah, there's still more I want to do, but if I went tomorrow, I'd be good. 

I've put two great people out into the universe who are smart and kind, and considerate and creative. I've traveled, learned languages, and had a lot of experiences most people never have. I found love when I had all but given up that the possibility of a loving relationship was even real. I really am good.

When I shared that thought with a friend out here, she told me that those words came as a great comfort to her. That was the day Spoono died. I won't claim to have known him well, but he was a friend. He cheered me on in my endeavors, and encouraged me to continue work in the food industry. I was bummed that I didn't get to share my first ever Playa pizza with him. When I return from the Playa this year, I will start my first line cook position at a San Francisco restaurant. I hope I do him proud.

Burning Man is an interesting place. I've heard people say there's something for everyone here. I think that's mostly true. Even in a place where stimulation overload can be a daily occurrence, it's also still possible to be in a clean, well lit place, and reflect my thoughts and consider my possibilities. Yup. I'm good.

Saturday, July 18, 2015

Coordinates locked in

I had dinner with a friend last week, who I think is doing it right.

We have a lot in common. She, like me, has lived an interesting life. She plays guitar and writes beautiful soulful lyrics, and keeps chickens behind her 1920's Craftman home. Through experience, both good and bad, she has managed to curate a lovely life. 

I like having friends like this. They remind me of what I want, and more importantly, that a lovely life is achievable. 

I'm approaching some finalities, and I can see that it's time to get off the pot, having sat through varying incarnations of shit. From here on out, my life is mine for the making. I suppose it always has been, but I forgot that it was. 

I have to say, I'm very happy to be moving beyond this transition period I've been in. I don't have a very specific future in mind, but I do know I want a lovely life. It's a general direction I'm heading.

Tuesday, July 7, 2015

I Think I'm Doing It Wrong

So, here I am smack dab in the middle of middle age at the tender age of 44. Like many in my age group, the thought of mortality is beginning to creep into my thoughts. My body is beginning to protest from excessive exertion. And, I'm starting to think about what I want to do with the rest of my life.

For a lot of people, I think, middle age can be about loss and regret. We are losing our youth and commercials don't always make sense to us anymore. We are no longer the target audience. Then, our music is on the oldies or classics station. The term bucket list comes into play.

But for me, I feel like I've wanted to be this age my whole life. I'm glad to be out of the bullshit era of my life. I don't feel like I have to prove myself to anyone. I'm educated enough for my own satisfaction. I've already had a lifetime of adventures, and am looking forward to more. That I've managed to put two amazing kids out into the world, brings me a feeling of great achievement. 

Yeah, there are things I still want to do. I know there is more journey out there for me, and not the "Don't Stop Believing" kind. But ironically I won't stop believing that I can contribute to the world in good ways. 

In my thoughts about mortality, I went back to an earlier philosophy about the universe. It's a little hokey and cosmic, but bear with me. My theory is that the universe is actually made of pure knowledge. But when the Big Bang occurred all of that knowledge was scattered. Our existence is a journey on a giant spiral that we travel, picking up the knowledge as we go. If we get enough we get closer to the center and our speed on that spiral is based on how much we learn. 

Have I learned enough? Of course not. But, I feel like I'm getting along at a good pace. The thing is, I'm not in a hurry anymore. The trick to learning is absorbing as much wisdom as you can from every experience and every process. Taking time to do this is not stagnation. It's merely meticulous.

So, what do I have to show for all my comprised ends thus far? What do I want to have? A life well lived. And that life doesn't have to include a plethora of things to prove my accomplishments. I don't need a new car, or a fancy house. What I need is to continue the journey, and maybe to start telling my stories about what I've learned. If anything, that's what I would want to be remembered for. 

Fuck the mid-life crisis. I'm celebrating.






Monday, July 6, 2015

Life is Excellent

There's. A song by a guy named Bobby Joe Ebola with this great chorus,

Life is Excellent
The tap water tastes like excrement
Skies rain poison
But I've gotta pay the rent

Trust me, it's a very catchy tune. The sentiment of the song rings true for me these days. There's a lot of things that really suck in the world right now. People suck with their ignorance and hate filled diatribes. Corporations suck with their greed and total disregard for the public who's money they desire. And, government sucks with their ideologues, duplicity and status quo.

Life is Excellent
the tap water tastes like excrement
Skies rain poison
But I've gotta pay the rent

But, things in my own life aren't that bad. I have this amazing partner who not only gets me, but encourages me to be who I am, even if I have to be that person a couple of thousand miles away from him. Long distance relationships can be hard, but we are both pretty independent people in our own ways. Technology being what it is, we still see each other if not in person, regularly. We work it out. 

Life is excellent
The tap water tastes like excrement
skies rain poison
But I've gotta pay the rent

And, even though I left a career I spent years constructing, I'm ok. I have employment, and it's not bad. I'm working my way out of debt. I have some goals for my future, and some hope that they may come true. I can see a path towards balance. You never quite realize how lost you are until you start to find the way back to the person you use to be, the person you're allowed to be, by yourself and your partner. 

Life is excellent
The tap water tastes like excrement
Skies rain poison 
But I've gotta pay the rent

So, here I am. It's not a perfect life, but what life is? It could be a lot worse. I know because it was a lot worse. But, for now, where I'm at, it's not all that bad. There are challenges ahead, and turmoil, no doubt, but now I'm at least at the point where I can take what I have and make it a happy tune.







Monday, June 8, 2015

Coming Up on Summer Days

So, this is my life right now:  I get up around 6:00 a.m. or so to catch a 7:45 boat. If I need more sleep, I catch an 8:45 bus. Either option will deposit me at the San Francisco Ferry building. I usually have enough time to grab something for lunch there, usually a Rustic Deli Roll from Acme bread, and a few slices of something from the Deli case at SF meats.

If I have time, and energy, I walk up the Embarcadero to Pier 41. Sometimes I take the waterside promenade. It's a little more peaceful and there are spots where small groups of minnows glisten just below the surface of the water. Otherwise, I pay $2.25 via my Clipper card to take a vintage streetcar. Often the latter are filled with tourists, or worse school kids on a field trip. If the car is already filled, it will roll right past us at the Ferry Building stop. Tourists often look perplexed when this happens. One of the locals usually assures them another will be along soon. Sometimes, even if the street car does stop, I opt to wait for the next one in hopes of less of a crowd.

When I arrive to Pier 39, the closest thing San Francisco has to a theme park, I look for the boat I'm to work on for the day. If I can get on board, I drop my backpack behind the bar, check the ice situation and start the coffee. Then, I head to the beverage office. It occupies a corner of the first floor of the Pier 41 Passenger terminal.

The Beverage Office, is the only place the bartenders regularly see each other. Mornings can be hectic. We fill rolling trashcans with ice, check the previous day's inventory for supplies we might need, check the boat schedule, check the work schedule for changes and head out to our vessels for the day. Some bartenders, who have been doing this job for more than a decade, have regular runs. They've earned it. The rest of us get moved around here and there, some more than others.

After I've collected my ice, and inventory, which can include several cases of beer and multiple bottles of liquor, I head out to my boat where I have about 15 minutes to set up the bar before the first run. I've learned that the trick to this is counting the bank first, then getting the snacks out and then worrying about the beer and liquor. I also make sure I have the Bloody Mary ingredients handy. If anything, that's the drink I'm most likely to mix on the first run.

As I set up the bar, the deck hands are busy preparing the boat for the day. They double check the garbage cans, make sure the heads are clean, check fuel, spray down windows and fill the potable water tanks. Meanwhile the captain is upstairs in the wheelhouse going through her own prep. I know we're getting close when I hear the speakers blast the opening music to our tour for a sound check.

After getting a go-ahead from the captain, Guest Services, affectionately called Yellow Jackets for the coats they wear, opens the gate allowing passengers to march down the ramp to the float that our boats are tied to. Most days this happens to a heroic overture blasts from the boat sound system. I've heard passengers compare the music to Jurassic Park. Its theme is lead by a trumpet line with a full orchestra bellowing below it in support, giving the impression of a great adventure ahead.

As passengers board, they are welcomed and directed to stairwells. I cheerfully tell them, "It's always 5:00 on the boat! In fact it's Bloody Mary o'clock right now!"   My pitch changes after the second cruise. Then it turns to Margarita o'clock.

The next several hours are spent greeting people and making small talk as I pour their drinks and coffee. I give out recommendations for restaurants and internally roll my eyes when people ask for a good seafood place nearby. Occasionally, I'll get a vibe from a visitor that they appreciate the authentic. For these people I give up the really good spots in town. I send them for Tapas in the Mission and for real dim sum just off the main drag in China Town.

As the day progresses, the wind picks up. Our late afternoon run is punctuated by kite-boarders who catch insane air using our wake as a ramp. And, with the wind comes the chill, so it's not uncommon to need to brew a second pot of coffee in the afternoon.

On the last trip out I start closing down. I restock for the next day, finish my inventory, and clean, clean, clean. Once we've tied up, if I'm done with my close, I walk right off the boat. If the last run is busy though, I sometimes struggle to be finished in time enough to not make the crew wait for me.

It's an interesting job. I'm surrounded by light and color all day, and meet people from all over the world. I see birds, sea lions, and sometimes porpoises, dolphins and even whales. I like to say I'm in the business of making people's day, and sometimes it rings true. Sometimes all it takes is a reassuring smile, a hot beverage or a cold beer to make everything better for my passengers who are mostly far out of their comfort zone or a long way from home in San Francisco.

Although I am working a lot right now, with little rest, it's helping me pay down my debt. And, every year I hope to be debt free. It's been a long hard struggle to get within reaching distance of this goal. I know it will be worth it once I'm there.  But for now, at least I have the water, the sky, the waves and the sun, oh and tips. There's tips too.

Saturday, March 14, 2015

Saturday Is My Tuesday

I never thought I'd hate Saturday morning, but for the moment I do. Gone are the days of cartoons and cinnamon toast till noon. Now, in my proletariate life, I rush to catch the only bus to San Francisco, at 7:30 am.  The bus is filled with others like me, who work in the City. We dose silently, bemoaning our early plight as others snooze or enjoy a prolonged snuggle with their mate. 

The consolation for this feat is being deposited at the Ferry Building where the Farmer's Market is gaining its full swing momentum. After obtaining an overpriced cappuccino and cannoli, I set myself down at a window seat, facing the Bay and engage with the latest New Yorker on my iPad. Happy chatter surrounds me, and locals parade by carrying rainbow varieties of greens and carrots.

Then, I'm reminded, it's not a bad life. I have time to sit and enjoy the morning of what is my Tuesday. I'll work through the weekend until Wednesday when I will be the one enjoying a lazy morning in bed while everyone else goes to work. 

I'm working diligently to carve out a life that works for me. It's hard, especially when I see friends still reaching for brass rings, still fighting the good fight. I don't deny that I feel pangs of guilt for not actively contributing to that struggle. I question the decisions that brought me here. Then I remind myself that I spent a lot of time giving and doing for others. In fact, I feel like I've contributed a lot, accomplished a lot. I'm OK with where I'm at right now.

I've heard that when looking for love, it comes to you when you stop trying so hard to find it. I think that theory applies to happiness as well. I spent a lot of time doing all the things I thought would fulfill me, only to come up drained and at a deficit in spirit. 

In some ways I've lowered my expectations. It makes it easier to accept what's thrown at me. I accept the good, find a way to work with the bad, and try to remember to be thankful for all I have, and how far I've come. 

It's a perfectly good enough life.