Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Tag: burning man (page 1 of 3)

Going To The Chapel

You should be wearing goggles.

“Is this even about the Dead anymore?”

I’ll ask the questions here. Is this even about the Dead anymore?

“In spirit. Anarchic form, recurring themes of death and resurrection, loose relationship with punctuality.”

What about not in spirit?

“You don’t do as many of those ‘the Dead go to a golf course’ things you used to.”

I did a lot of them. Is this the only reality?

“The only one that matters. All those deep thinkers are gonna tell you about parallel worlds and the trimensional helix, and then they’re gonna give you phenomenology and the head-in-a-jar hooha, but if you fall off your bad motor scooter you will skin your knee.”

The only true reality is the dangerous one?

“On some days. Let me make it easier for you: reality is a grammatical construct; it’s the subject, and you’re the object.”

That didn’t make it easier at all.

“Reality is that which you cannot opt out of. ”

That was easy. What happens after you die?

“The funeral.”

Is there an afterlife?

“Yes, but you’d rather go to the after-party.”

Open bar?

“The openest.”

Why do we strive to achieve in the face of certain death?

“Boredom.”

Don’t suppose it’s any use asking you out.

“I’m getting married.”

Right. Who’s the lucky groom?

“I’m marrying a manda.”

Amanda?

“No. A manda.”

Huh?

“YOU GOT ANY BAMBOO OR PORN, BROTHER?”

Ah. A human/panda hybrid. A manda.

“BUT I FUCK LIKE A PUMA!”

Nope, no more. This bit is absolutely forbidden from now on.

Went To See The Captain, Nakedest I Could Find

Did someone steal your face?

“It’s under the bandana and goggles.”

Did you shush me in Chicago?

“I would have but no.”

Those shorts should be called lows.

“I’m proud of my pudenda.”

Is the hermit the holiest, or can man among men achieve peace?

“The lure of disconnection, the song of solitude’s sirens.”

Yes.

“To be a lonely penitent. To sit in solemn silence thinking thoughts of love and kindness?”

Sure.

“So fuck off to a monastery.”

They get up very early.

“I guess it’s the madding crowd for you, then.”

What is security?

“Caring for nothing. Vulnerability exists at points of attachment.”

Should I still lock the door?

“You should still lock the door.”

Are you playing flag football?

“Yes.”

Awesome. Can I play?

“Sure, lemme ask my boyfriend, who is a moose.”

Wait.

I thought you were dating the fire lady.

“DOMINANT MALE, BABY! I GETS MY FUCK ON!”

Yeah, I was right. This bit is not coming back.

Fire Woman

May I have a marshmallow?

“They’re not marshmallows.”

I know. My question was unrelated to your flaming Wolverine-hands.

“You know what marshmallows are made of?”

Tastiness?

“Horse hooves and colonialism.”

Will you cook my hot dog?

“No.”

Will you cook my tofu dog?

“Yes.”

What is the current delusion of the masses?

“Dynamism.”

Explain.

“The lie of productivity; the trap of the work ethic; the preservative of progress. Suckers think they always gotta be doing something.”

Suckers?

“The rats, the sheep, the easily-cowed, the busy beavers, the workhorses.”

A motley menagerie.

“And not enough cages.”

But is man not meant to be free?

“Meant, shmeant. Judge man by his actions. He chooses stability and security over freedom.”

Freedom includes the freedom to choose stability and security.

“You’re talking in circles.”

The world is round. What color are your eyes?

“Pet fish at a rich person’s house.”

Good color.

“It’s the Cadillac of eye colors.”

You ever burn your house down?

“Couple times.”

Hot.

“I see what you did. This is the part where you ask me if I have a boyfriend.”

Yeah, I don’t know why we’re doing this bit again, either.

“GET AWAY FROM MY LADY! SHE ONLY GOES OUT WITH MOOSE!”

You’re not a moose. You’re a passed-out hippie in a deer mask.

“DON’T ASSUME MY SPECIES!”

Bringing this bit back was a mistake.

The Oldest Enemy

burner-hottie-captain-hat

You look familiar.

“My brother shushed you at the Farewell Shoes.”

NEMESIS.

“I am not my brother’s keeper. I mean, I kept his hat, but I was speaking in a more metaphoric sense.”

Right, sorry. How is the captain?

“Successful in finance and romance, fulfilled both spiritually and sexually.”

Fuck him even harder, then.

“He’s an eye surgeon with Doctors Without Borders.”

Don’t care: fuck him. The man shushed Martin. Also me, but mostly Martin.

“I’ll pass along your enmity.”

Why isn’t he at Burning Man?

“He’s restoring the sight of orphans for free, while being shot at.”

It’s like you’re not hearing me: he shushed us. If I had thrown him off the mezzanine, I would have been within my rights according to custom. What are you drinking?

“Ayagria.”

What’s that?

“Ayahuasca mixed with sangria.”

That sounds awful.

“There’s Gatorade in there, too.”

That’s better from an electrolyte’s point of view, but it can’t be good.

“Also a splash of Bacardi. After the first few sips, you can’t taste it. Only problem is the fruit slices keep clogging up the hose.”

Just shake it around. Does time exist?

“The past leaves scars, and the largest future is predictable.”

The future isn’t predictable.

“The largest one. On a grand scale, the future is calculable. This star explodes now, that galaxy crashes into the next then. Just math. Three-body problem, but with more bodies: that’s the universe, and all we are is particles; we crash into each other, and flash out of existence and back. We’ve got no vote in the grand scheme, you and I. Not even all of us put together. It’s humbling, but so are Russian novels.”

So, nothing really matters?

“Anyone can see.”

Nothing really matters?

“To me? No. But also: yes. To some, maybe. Others are on the fence. Many have not weighed in at all.”

Who is Buddha?

“Buddha isĀ  the Buddha, and the Buddha is Buddha. All are Buddha; Buddha is all.”

Jesus?

“Jesus is Buddha.”

Elvis?

“Elvis is Buddha.”

Me?

“Eh.”

I like your spunk.

“Ew.”

You have a boyfriend, little lady?

“Ex.”

Nice. I’ve got $56 and a head that ain’t quite right.

“But we just got back together. He’s the Spirit of Young America.”

What?

rando-tripping-tie-dye

“GET AWAY FROM MY LADY, AND PLEASE GO BUY ME AND MY FRIENDS BEER.”

You’re the Spirit of Young America?

“GAZE UPON ME, OLD MAN!”

This bit is not worth all the mental trauma it puts me through.

Furinal

burning-man-fur-coat-hat-hottie

I’ve figured out Burning Man’s problem.

“Money.”

That’s man’s problem.

“What is Burning Man’s problem?”

Everyone’s an officer. Haven’t seen one sergeant.

“This is a naval hat.”

Wet sergeant.

“We’re in the desert.”

Dry wet sergeant. When will we see the Singularity?

“Right after the Mayan Apocalypse.”

That happened four years ago.

“The Singularity: the moment in history, predicated by technology, when predictions fail and things get weird?”

Yes.

“I stand by my retroactive prediction. We’ll mark the date as we look back, and realize what happened after the fact. History isn’t obvious at first. Did people know the Depression was starting?”

They actually did. It was in the papers.

“What about World War II?”

September 1st, 1939. Again: it was in all the papers, probably under the headline “World War II Begins.

“Perhaps, but I’m wearing a fur coat so I am going to stick with my opinion.”

I hope that’s fake fur.

“It’s real fur from a fake animal.”

Which one?

“Albino snuffalupagus. Very rare. Worn by royalty.”

Really?

“Well, it’s fake fur, so it was worn by pretenders to the crown.”

Sure. Let’s buy a house in the country, a real pretty little place, and then burn it down for the insurance money.

“And the sexual thrill.”

Obviously.

“I can’t. I’m in love with That Guy.”

That guy?

“No, That Guy.”

phish-bathroom-urinal-guy

Ohhh, That Guy.

“GOTTA KEEP THE PEE-PEE OFF THE TUTU, BROTHER!”

I know how John Mayer feels. This place is awful.

Costumed Adventurers

burner-hottie-white-fanny-pack

It’s not a practical outfit.

“It’s an extremely practical outfit. Practicality is about efficiently accomplishing your goals. My goal was to show off the goods, and I also wanted to wear a hat. Thus, this outfit. It is the shortest line between two points.”

What about the boots?

“The boots are not practical. I’ll give you that.”

Have you fallen?

“Not all the way. Couple stumbles, nothing major.”

I once watched a drag queen in 8″ platform shoes topple over very, very slowly.

“Why did she fall, and why were you watching?”

Drugs, and drugs. Whats next for democracy?

“It was a good idea at the time.”

Isn’t a good idea timeless?

“Of course not. Some ideas are only good at the time. Dropping a nuke is a terrible idea currently. August of ’45? Smartest thing anyone ever heard.”

Was it?

“It was practical.”

It was.

“The best results come from applying all your energy at once, overwhelmingly and at the correct moment. The walls of Jericho tumbled not because Joshua played his horn so well, but from the note’s frequency and volume. Get those right and you can shake the world apart.”

What do you do for work?

“I own the Goggle Hut right outside Black Rock City.”

Wow.

“Mama’s making bank.”

Marry me.

“It’s so nice to meet a man who just wants me for my money. But I’m dating the Guy With The Most Inappropriate Costume At Phish.”

What?

worst-costume-rando

Ugh.

“HEY, BROTH–”

No. No. No. Shut the fuck up, no.

It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

burner-hottie-goggles-pig

Pig gonna getcha.

“The pig’s not real.”

Neither is this conversation, so you should be careful.

“One does need to follow the rules of the road.”

How should a child be educated?

“Curiosity must be encouraged; ignorance, discouraged.”

How do you discourage ignorance?

“Buddhists like to use sticks. Coach MacGillicuddy made you run laps.”

These methods are frowned upon nowadays. We’ve grown soft.

“Not us: the world. Calluses build up through damage, friction. The laborer’s hand is not innately rough: the work made it so. The world takes away less tenderness than it used to; perhaps this is a good thing.”

Is your fanny pack infinite?

“No.”

Are there drugs in there?

“Yes.”

What about your jean shorts?

“There are also drugs in my jean shorts.”

You’ve thought ahead.

“I’ve worn jean shorts before: I know the ins-and-outs.”

Y’know, a very famous man once rocked the jean short/fanny pack combo.

“Was that man Jesus Christ?”

It was. And, from his fanny pack, he produced enough drugs to discombobulate the masses.

“I’ve seen the light.”

Jesus is great.

“He’s just all right.”

Let’s hang out together, and do drugs and talk about the Lord.

“No can do. I’m arboreosexual.”

What the hell is that?

“My boyfriend’s a tree.”

What?

tree-man

“AM I BEING DETAINED, OFFICERS?”

You’re going out with that?

“I would leave him, but I need the syrup.”

That’s a maple tree. The joke makes no sense.

“POLICE BRUTALITY!”

Oh, shut up. Do you have a name?

“TREEVON MARTIN!”

Nope! I’m done.

A Princely Throne

burner-hottie-portapottie

“We call it Paisley Poop.”

It’s what he would have wanted.

“Prince pooped.”

Everybody poops.

“Not Elvis.”

And look what happened to him.

“Jumpsuits?”

Death.

“Much worse.”

Why are you so happy in the port-a-pottie?

“We’re filth, all of us, you and me. Decaying carbon and a belly of methane, manure-in-waiting. Enjoy it.”

No.

“Enjoy it!”

No! Is math a hard science?

“Many find it challenging.”

Not what I meant.

“Mathematics is for clairvoyants and the youthfully mad. If Madame Blavatsky had combed her hair less, and had a penis, she’d have revolutionized number theory. Every great mathematical discovery was made by young men, right at the age when schizophrenia comes on. Surely those facts have no relation at all.”

Perhaps there’s an equation.

“Hard science? No: a representational and once-removed descriptor of a reality containing the real, the imagined, and the irrational. Mathematics isn’t a science like chemistry. Magnesium is a thing. 22/7 is not: it’s a notation of a thing, based on scratching notches on a wall to count animals. An equation is true in the sense that a poem rhymes.”

Is that a Nazi hat?

“Would it upset you if it was?”

Depends. Are you Lemmy?

“No.”

Then it would upset me. Lemmy was the only person who got the Nazi Pass.

“Ah, Lemmy. So young.”

So beautiful.

“It’s not a Nazi hat.”

That’s good.

“The owl’s a Nazi, though.

That’s bad.

“All night: JEW! JEW! He’s obsessed.”

Sounds rough.

“He’s very loud. At least, for a tattoo.”

You’re everything I want in a woman. After you’ve been thoroughly disinfected, of course. May I scrub you down?

“You weren’t listening about the filth thing. Besides–”

You’ve got a boyfriend.

“–I’ve got a boyfriend.”

drunk-garfield-mascot

“MONDAYS, RIGHT?”

It’s Saturday, man.

“CAN YOU GIMME A RIDE TO COURT?”

I formally protest this bit.

Hat, Hair

burning-man-top-hat-goggles-hottie

What is with you people and the hats?

“You people? That’s racist.”

You can’t be racist against Burning Man hotties.

“You can be racist against anyone if you try hard enough.”

Today’s racism lacks elbow grease.

“Just no gumption to the bigots lately.”

Tom Hanks?

“He’s lazy, and steals.”

Wow.

“See?”

Why is there something instead of nothing?

“An empty question that self-negates. Nothingness needs somethingness to exist: it is the Other academics love capitalizing so much, but only arises in opposition to Self. Silence is only noticed in the cessation of sound, not measured positively, but in absence of energy.”

What is a ‘thing?’

“That which is not anything else.”

You just started a recursive loop.

“Which started the whole world crying.”

Are there drugs in your hat?

“Yes, there’s drugs in my hat.”

May I buy you a chimichanga?

“Yes, but I have a boyfriend, and all he does is fuck and party.”

What?

chomper-fuck-and-party

Oh.

“ALL I DO IS FUCK AND PARTY!”

I got it.

“COME FUCK AND PARTY WITH ME, BROTHER!”

No, I’m gonna throw myself out the window.

On A Lighter Note

burning-man-enormous-hat

Your hat is enormous.

“It’s hat-sized.”

Every hat is hat-sized. Everything is itself-sized.

“No. Some things are bigger on the inside. Your basic Bag of Holding.”

Garcia’s Briefcase of Infinite Felonies.

“What?”

Nothing. Does your neck tire?

“From the hat?”

And its enormity.

“No.”

Oh.

“Move on from the hat.”

It’s very big.

“It must be. A hat is a cape for your head.”

I disagree with your premise.

“Pretend you do.”

I agree with your premise.

“A cape must be at least knee-length, preferably to the mid-calf or ankle. A small cape is not a cape: it’s a backwards lobster bib.”

You have strong feelings on capes.

“Cloaks, too.”

Noted. How would the world be different if we hadn’t adopted the seven-day week?

“The song Eight Days A Week would make no sense”

Okay.

“Calendars would be either wider or narrower.”

Sure.

“God would be confused.”

When to rest?

“Right.”

Shouldn’t confuse God.

“Not that iteration, at least. Old Testament God was a mean fuck. Never baffle bastards.”

Rarely rewarding. Could you keep a small animal friend in your hat?

“Now you’re annoying and I’m getting my boyfriend, who is a dead keyboardist in a Furry costume.”

Brent?

brent-mascot

“HEY, BROTHER! LONG TIME NO SEE!”

Stop yelling.

“There’s always yelling in this part.”

Brent, what are you doing?

“Grabbing some pussy, brother.”

I hate everything about all of this.

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