Monthly Archives: August 2005

between the man and the city

i ride out to the middle of nowhere… one hand on my velvet handlebars, the other gripping a bloody mary. my muppet boots shake off dust with every pump of my pedal. it is morning and everything is sacred… the benign breeze, the protective mountains, the semi-circle and all the creativity coming from it. this is home. no airs, no pretenses. just raging expression and a big hot plate of reality turned upside down. the wind rustles my handlebar tassles, my mouth sweats with the spice of the drink. i am sandwiched between the man and the city, soon to be above the city on a cessna photography mission. art sculptures strategic out in the nether regions beyond the man. sunburn thru lace gloves, deep satiated breathing and smirks at all my giddy friends in scandilous outfits and situations… there is no where else i’d rather be…

crossing that threshold

i savor my last moments of running water, a firm bed, subtle temperatures, clean clothes…. i prepare to detach from all things familiar and rational. i calm my first-timer friends leaping over themselves in anticipation and worry. “you cannot really prepare for this…” i tell them… going to burning man is like winning a trip to the moon… of course you want the experience… it’s just crossing over the threshold that you’re afraid might kill you… the shock of it all, that this exists… i’m afraid i might not ever want to come back again… ah, our desert summerland… a glittering playground… churning out before us now…

current music: enigma – snow of the sahara
“to stand with you in a ring of fire
i’ll forget the days gone by
i’ll protect your body and guard your soul
from mirages in your sight”

current music: ani difranco – freak show
“life under the big top
it’s about freedom
there’s an art to the laughter
there’s a science
and there’s a lot of love
and compliance

we live to hear the slack-jawed gasping
we live under a halo of held breath
and when the children raise up a giant shield
of laughter, it’s like they’re fending off death

and we can make somethig bigger
then any one of us alone

welcome to the freakshow
here we go…”

static quiet

i crawl into bed as a form of surrender… “UNCLE!” i say to brady on the phone before i clear the path for dreamtime… however much the dreaming is promised, it never seems to come quick enough… i lay in bed lost in thoughts, lonely most nights lately… i close my eyes hard and make sleeping breath but still dreams do not come… i listen to the hollow thunder of planes and there is a buzzing in my ear… static quiet… no breeze, no cars… just the static of all things still…. i fold myself into a soft pocket, try to push away this rapt feeling, try to disappear… i seem to succeed to everyone but myself…


we prepare to go where no independant, non-sleeping dusty faerie has ever attempted to go before… into Camp Boy/Girlfriend at burning man…. we make our hilarious rounds, list in hand, side-tracked easily by toys and tomfoolery… at target we gather the practical necesseities of propane lamps and storage bins and then we have a gratuitous stroll (…er…more like RAMPAGING RUN…) thru toys r us where i stock up on glowies for bicycle spokes, skull caps and the ultimate playa accessory…. MOON SHOES!!!!! i talk boldly of how i plan to wear my moon shoes while on a pogo stick ON TOP OF a trampoline… but one death-defying pogo encounter later and we just quietly lay that pogo back against the wall…. we visit the auto center next door… the faerie car might just need a new battery… and so brady installed it and i start the car and viola! the beast is resurrected! “well, hello there!” i purrr to it, now with cobwebs in my spinners and gathering an inch of dust on my faerie stickers and windshield…. to be sure, the faery car does need a new trans but for now it’s happy. THE FAERY CAR LIVES!!! 🙂


finding the path

been goin non-stop for 24 hours… full-time at wb, then shot a bellydance troupe, then an indie label cd cover, then editing more images, then snuggling brady for a few hours, then editing more images… the dance troupe coordinator rented out larger studio space from another photographer, carl, who’s been at this professionally for 25 years… she arranged a ride for me in a suped-up jaguar, gps system and a driver with cat eyes…. i show up and i’m reeling nervous and carl AND i are confused why HE wasn’t shooting this troupe… 20 minutes to set up, calm and center… a cranberries cd that reminded me of brian and all he means to me did the trick and i was off rollin… carl kept offering suggestions that freaked me out, took me away from focus, so i sent him to his room… lol~ huevos, i know! but it was my shoot and he was trippin me up~ he was ok with it, invited me to one of his workshops. turning my attention the dance troupe, formations appeared in my mind’s eye… circles cross-legged, depth of field experiments… tryin to stick to the norm, ultimately wavering from it. carl kept peeking out and i brattishly scolded him… after everyone left, i asked if he had any suggestions to which he waved me off like a buzzing bee “you got it…” he sweetly said in dismissal and it made me smile… then the band came to pick me up… they were drunk i think, all except the driver~ big open friendly silly jackassery in the car and we arrive at my studio. i set up while they ran to the store for more beer… had 2 minutes of centering … laid on my studio floor with the lights off and breathed listening loudly to the doors’ ‘indian summer’, ready for the next one… now i prepare to go to wb and do it all again…


i am doing the best i can to balance all what goes on within, without and in the day to day that is the circus i call my life. consistancy is an illusion, unwelcomed… expection, quite dangerous… i expect nothing of people who love me save loving me in whatever way they do…

adapting to situations, taking on new responsibilities, feeling the escalating flow of life work that i wished so hard for, was so scared to have it, and now that it has arrived all it seems to ask of me is to adhere momentum to it… i need my friends to understand this, now more than ever… i held back so long in no many ways for so many people that it pains me, however necessary, to have to stop and dole out explanations… to myself and others… the longevity of friendship and deeper perspective should sustain the judgement of things i cannot change at the moment… this is just how my life is right now and in time things will level out once i set the momentum right… i am still always there for friends in times of need but casual lunches and lengthy conversations that i used to love to have seem to have been skirted by the responsibilities of my new business. i have no advisor, no accountant, no marketing team, no assistant, no car even… i am doing this all myself, me and my canon and tripod, computer and bicycle… the encouragement and inspiration of friends that are also aligned with their own true purposes means more to me now than ever…. for in this sacred space of doing, they might understand where i’m at as well and therefore propel me, not sadden me…

nothing and everything makes sense now. my life book has been tossed out the window by centrifugal force; the top of my safety car torn off by jagged circumstance and all i can do is tighten the silk scarf under my chin knowing full well it will blow away in time as well~ life is fleeting… people do change… love and friendships build and grow quiet in distance and time… and then flicker once more… i’m ok with whatever happens because i am aligned with my intentions, whether threatened, ultiimately misunderstood or simply accepted as part of the whole…

i am not lost in this new world… in fact, just the opposite… i am still just absorbing the awareness of it, feeling almost powerless to stop it once conjured… issues and negativity threaten me…anything that cannot be solved by deeper knowledge, memory, time or understanding before harshness threatens me… mostly because it feels like a spiral that once sprung has a hard time fitting back into the joker box. i am curious always of the origin of conflict… is it internal? is it external? i am more curious of positive outcomes… i will put my intentions there lest this sadness keep me awake much longer tonight… i still have thousands of images to edit, people waiting on them, two shoots on location back to back to prepare for after my full day at warner bros tomorrow…

i might need a break from everything soon…

the 25 hour drive back to los angeles

“THANK YOU SEATTLE AND GOOD NIGHT!” monica says as we load back into the van like rockstars and prepare to endure the 25 hour drive back to los angeles. we all laugh and talk about the show. more fraggle impressions. brady gives me a massage. i find a pocket on the floor on a cushion and dream away the day watching the sky change. truck stops are surreal. general stores and toothless lumberjacks. my life is in a duffle bag… and i’m ok with that…

steamrolls hath no mercy

van packed back up and heading now north from portland to seattle. we cross the washington state line and ‘spin, spin sugar’ plays on. the van has been trashed officially… between the chinese fire drills inside it, the violent tickling fights, the pringle bashing, it’s all gone to hell~

me on drums at the crystal ballroom in portland
yesterday mutaytor rocked portland… i played with puck all day and then awoke to the usual mass mutaynt steamroll chaos, equal for all, ensues. pixie steamrolls hath no mercy. puck just giggled along after she was my first target. and then a quick frenzy of packing and proper ‘leave no trace’ to our generous hosts that agreed to put us up for the night… and then we’re loaded into the van ready for the next town~ and so we’re off again. 141 miles til seattle… i call deborah and we just cackle. “soon we’ll be in the same state!” she says and i correct her as the washington state line comes into view “no no no, dear, i AM in your state!” and more cackling and click.

1pm – seattle creeps up like a mirage and everyone’s singing sex pistols songs. “kj’s a BURRITO!” monica says between fraggle rock impressions that have us dying laughing. we roughhouse like alleycats… it’s just endless fun. atom says seattle looks like portland.

turn back the world

analyzing jesus songs on a late start to the trip up to portland. brady sings “drop kick me jesus thru the goal post of life.”

“do you want me to fix your dweedle?” bryan asks roo and then sets to work fixing the walkie talkie as we all share an apple. wedges are cut unneccesarily as we each take one bite and pass it around. then it’s vegetarian beef jerky, then it’s a notebook with a story that we each contribute a few lines to. roo’s top hat rests on the dashboard. we’re four hours into a 20 hour drive up north for two mutaytor shows. one in portland tomorrow night and then another show the next night in seattle.

8pm – closer now to oregon. blackberries on bushes, winding highways, tall evergreens up all around us. we talk of spicy root beer as we pass a glacier. monica calls me sprite. there is jackassery on the walkie talkies between the two caravans, mom/dad (crunchy/matty) in the van behind us threaten us parental like as the jackassery escalates and spills over at truck stops and way into the night. bryan & kj chant ‘titti-cacca’ over and over and it builds up hedonistic. talk of anthropology and the taste of nipples. roo calls my socks ‘yargyle socks’. she leans over and i ask what’s in her head. “travel,” she says. “travel… and freedom”. “what kind of freedom?” i ask her whispering curious… she thinks much, looks at dusk falling over the steep rushing forest and says “freedom of lifestyle.”

“turn back the world,” kj says as the sun slips behind the mountains and we lament a photo opportunity. roo and i press noses up against the van windows and watch hazy mountains turn purple, then blue and then they seem to fade entirely away… leaving just us and the night, a traveling circus and the journey to share it… 300 miles away portland awaits~

san francisco


brady and i headed to the castro at 1am after a long day of jazz festivals, a burner parade, crepes in the park and walking around chinatown… skinned ducks hanging in windows, trays of jade and red lanterns… just like chinatown in nyc… in the castro district we ate at a cafe of pez-loving lesbians with punk rawk hair, the bagdad cafe. a half hour to find parking back at the satan house and we both agree we could never live in san fran… in the dark i creep around the house… entranced by ghost vibe, scared to high hell in darkness, a torture by choice, just to see if i can take it… the entire house smells like an old delicious book… i dreamt of men with sideburns and top hats standing over me as i lay threadbare on bearskin rugs in front of a slow burning fire. not malevolent or otherwise… just curious stares… fog is a strange thing here… it billows across intersections at stop lights like snow… hits my face like micro-raindrops… smoky street lights make me turn to camera-mind but the chill here prevents me from using it…. in a few hours dawn will come and soon after, the journey back to los angeles… two days of rest and we’re on the road again… this time to portland and to seattle…