yeah, things changed

some choice memories:

1. middle of nowhere. we drove into the desert at 50mph for about an hour. cars passed us the other way, turned around and followed us. people congregating on nothing. cattleguards were crossed, miles of dirt road to a sandy, winding driveway/road packed with cars. we saw tiki torches and heard music.

2. the large bus at the driveway terminus raved, generated. over a slight rise the underbrush gave way to a cow pond. the fire pit and trippy projection screen rimmed the pond to the right. left was tents, food, drink, music, milling. pungencies fought for airspace everywhere.

3. after cajoling and teasing and head-faking the rave bus was braved. the two little girls posted outside followed us in, claimed a plywood platform, and danced the night away.

4. the firepit drummers beat damning dynamics. evident desire of the blonde to instigate, alter, and influence the rhythm pounded out amid a chorus of hearts via hands.

5. Rat Dog's Grateful Dead punctuated by visits from Josh, an impromptu apple pipe, Johnny on drums, then blown out of the water by the fire-eaters.

6. on the far side of the cowpond they twisted, twirled, hula'ed, swooped, and swallowed the flames.

7. mints as gifts. pockets of meat. cold, good beer. anonymous cups handed around, gulped from, and placed neatly in the designated areas.

8. Gates Pass, nearing 4am, bleary-eyed, crammed in a stick-shift truck. sick fear floating on a sea of bile we circled, climbed out, and plunged back into the city.


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