The Pound

Just got back from a Bruleurs get together, and love ‘em as I do I have to say things are slow. I know there are a lot of burners in town, but the critical mass of a bunch of them all in once place at one time doesn’t seem to happen much. Which brings me to…

The Pound

This is my place, the greatest place I’ve found so far in Montreal. The Pound is so fucking magical its hard to describe. Anything can happen. Its so open and chaotic and bubbling with potential and creativity. I’m seriously bummed that I’m not going this week due to work. It truly is the highlight of my week.

So, the plan is to try and mix the ingredients. Get Burners to the Pound. Get people from the Pound involved in Burner kind of stuff. Heck. If I can mix some UE into it all who knows what’ll happen!

Party at my place. Soon.

Titles Suck

Blogging really is a cruel passtime, not entirely sure why I do it, besides the obvious inflated ego. I mean really, when its dry its dry - nothing to report on, zilch of interest, just ho hum. Then a ton of things happen and you’re too busy to write about them and feel hopelessly overwhelmed when finally you decide to put fingers to keyboard. Aye. Well, such this is being of the latter. How’s that for craptastic English?

First things first. The move is on. I have to say a big fucking merciful thanks to the ditz who manages my building for letting me move in a week early. What a fucking Godsend. With memories of stuffing my car to absolute capacity for the drive across country its a relief to only jam a managable number of boxes into its every orifice for a multitude of short trips to deck the place out. I’ve done two loads and I think I have two more, the second just because I have no Internet set up there yet so I’m going to leave this humming strumming machine on this desk until the last possible moment, otherwise I lose all of you wonderful people. Yeah fuck whatever.

Its big, its empty, it echoes like a motherfucker. I need furniture and appliances like nobody’s business. But I’m a cheapskate so aside from a bed I intend to pay little to nothing for all my new stuff. That’s what the curb is for. The dumpster diving ban is officially lifted and I can’t pretend I’m not thrilled. I already scored a corner planter thingy that sort of fits the steampunk aesthetic I think I’m going to go for. Next trip is to the wealthy Anglo neighbourhood of Westmount. Oh yeah…

Next off is last Thursday night at the Pound. Good times. Jan wasn’t there but the other German was with his Belgian friend in tow. I love how Montreal is kind of a default Europe where I get to meet all sorts of ex-pats and visiting Euros on their way through the crass joke that is America. Why travel when the people come to you? Of course Alex and Dave were there as well, along with Jacob and the usual Pound “staff.” Everyone got invites to my house warming, Maud got two because I was so baked by the end of the night I couldn’t really remember what was going on. We played soccer in the back during one of the sets. That’s what I love about the Pound, its just freewheeling. There was a dog too, no idea…

I ended up sleeping in a nest of coats at the new apartment since its a shorter walk there than it is to the place on Fullum. It may sound uncomfortable, but when you have a dozen coats for every possible ocassion from cyber-punk invasion to Siberian death marches you’re talking about a lot of padding.

So I worked though a hangover Friday afternoon dreading my later night obligations. See I’d agreed to help volunteer at an event Friday night for a woman off of Tribe, mostly out of curiosity as to what her events looked and felt like. What I really wanted though was a chance to sleep, not minding the door from 11pm until 2am. Well truth be told it was one of the best things I did because it was like wandering into a dome tent at Burning Man around Destiny and 8:30. The vibe was amazing. Definitely on the hippy end of the spectrum, but after the punk DIY sense of the Pound it was the perfect pendulum swing. I got a rhythmic massage (which finally seems to have solved that kink I’ve had ever since a wave in the Dominican took me and thrust me headfirst into the beach like a reluctantly terrified ostrich), then had some wonderfully open and honest dialogue with some truly beautiful people, danced a bit and… oh hell. Got to oogle four of the sexiest young women I’ve seen in a long, long time.

Unfortunately I got stuck there until almost three thirty, my damn volunteer gene kicking in and making me stay to help clean up even though I had to be up to work today. But it was all for the best, with no kink in my back and still wafting throught he scent of that wonderful vibe I had a great day at work, at once focussed and calm, fully able to express myself and have fun.

So now I’m packing the last of my things to load into the car tomorrow morning and bring to the loft on my way to work. Everything is proceeding beautifully. Life is good. Montreal is good. Things will only get better. Wheeeee!

Burning Man is…

…an event taking place on Saturday night at Zone Tour #22.

Its in the dictionary

Merriam Webster to be precice. Pynchonesque. Its a word. The English police said so.

Oddly enough though there are films, sentimental personal effects, a beautiful old projector and other rare and valuable things coming to me soon in an old chest, the thing I think I’ll be most excited to break out is my copy of Gravity’s Rainbow. Pynchon you son of a bitch - its been far too long.

I’ve just read two reviews of the author’s newest book, one from the New York Times claimed it felt more like a homage to Pynchon by a wannabe than a great work of art. The other review from some obscure UK publication painted a picture in all of Pynchon’s proper colour and forms. Pynchon’s books aren’t literature as we know it. They’re something else. Forced to classify I’d almost rate them as psychotropics and anyone who’s a true conniseur of drugs knows that you need to go into the trip with the right intention and mindset.

I think digging my oculars into a Pynchonian tome is just what my mushy little mellon needs about now, after being shrink wrapped, freeze dried and custom cut for the corporate world I’ve been inhabiting for the past few months. Its causing the death of me. I feel like I’ve been eating mental cardboard. Here I’m trying to be creative and witty and this is all I can produce. Laughable. But still…

I was inspired by skimming the contents of an inferior book, if you can call things that dont’ really inhabit the same genus superior or inferior to each other. Anyhow after reading a few pages of tripe and imagining better ways to write the same thing I realised I needed some literary sniffing salts. So I looked up Pynchon on the web.

But let’s break from all that to something not altogether unrelated. Burning Man. Speaking of disconnected narratives, the human menagerie, drugs, sex and alternate scientific possibilities for the soul - Burning Man. Has Pynchon ever gone? Considered it? Bah! Useless to ask. Just go on with the story. Okay.

I’ve noticed that when I dream of Black Rock City (and this happened only last night) that nowadays there is a pervasive impending threat. Out there by the trash fence, at the edge, where there and here meet. What do I see? Condos. No word of a lie. Legoland condo developments with their legoland inhabitants - you know, the ones with the switchable hair/hats? Yeah. Fucking condos man. They steal UE and they’re threatening to steal Black Rock.

Its interesting that for me the condo is the embodiment of all things banal, conformist and evil. Mass produced huksterism with nary a thought for the actual future or quality thereof. Am I a throwback or what? And to think I almost bought one. Holy Shit! That’s a great art project!

This terror can’t be mine alone! What about a giant billboard at the trash fence advertizing the pre-sale of Black Rock codominiums! Oh motherfucker what brilliance! Eris send me horrors that I may make them into art!

Further proof that ANYTHING can be reframed.

Good night.

Eureka!

One of the difficulties plaguing Burners from outside of the United States is the difficulty with bringing things across the border without arousing suspicion. As if distance weren’t problem enough many an ambitious art project was rejected for fears that the Gestapo at the 49th parallel would confiscate, arrest or otherwise block passage of the industrious art or artists. The challenge then is to figure out things which can be easily and unobtrusively transported, or put together after crossing the American frontier. Call it working within the limitations of the form.

Well I think I just came up with one. Its based on some art I recently saw on the Internet, right about… here!

A nice thing about the playa and Burning Man in general is that from a distance it looks pretty similar year to year. I mean really, big blue sky with a few wisps of cloud up there, mountains, some crazy structures and domes waaaay off in the distance, then down to cracked and parched desert sand. Pretty standard. Which means… perspective camouflage is actually pretty easy to do. My first thought was to simply print off a costume using some photographs of the playa in previous years, but then I thought, what about body paint? Sure the application of such a detailed work would be pretty time intensive, but the effect for people seeing it from the right vantage point would be pretty trippy.

Another idea borrows from my friend Amira who painted a gorgeous Burning Man scene on a discarded billboard. What about a time warp? Somewhere out on the playa put a giant picture of the playa at night so that during the day you can see what it looks like 12 hours opposite? Likewise have a sheet that’s the playa during the day illuminated at night to create a portal into the daytime. Neither would be too difficult to set up, aside from begging for the wind to pick them up and toss them into the nearest trash fence.

Hmmmm.

Bringing the Burn Home

There you are on the playa, wearing a sarong, an army issue canteen half full of last night’s sangria, devil’s horns and goggles when suddenly you notice that your precious chapstick is gone. Yes somewhere between that big merry-go-round with the 6000 watt sound system with coloured stobes and the ride on the flame throwing calliope that — has gone missing. Damn fucking shit. Now what’s going to happen to your precious kisser? Then you find a cool zebra print tophat in the middle of the naked desert, no people or vehicles in sight. <shrug>

This is something that I’ve taken home from the Burn. The aptitude to lose things gracefully. In fact, I don’t even think of it at losing anymore. I didn’t lose that chapstick, and I didn’t find that hat. I gifted the chapstick to the fortunate soul that finds it, her lips rough as a crocodile’s back and I graciously accepted the gift of the tophat from… whomever.

Stuff is just stuff. So something that I used to identify as mine isn’t mine anymore, because I was careless, or forgetful, or drunk. Well no biggie. Someone else will enjoy it. Let it be their gift.

Sometimes the gift comes right around and the lost item finds its way back to you, but often times it just keeps bouncing around out there - person to person - place to place - having adventures it would never have had with me. So it is when I find some cool do-dad in someone elses’ garbage, or carelessly left behind after a party with the owner nowhere to be found.

I lose things from time to time. Often times I have a good idea of where they are. Those books you loan out that you never see again, or that cool little toy you forget in someone’s car… No biggie. Enjoy it. Use it. Keep the cycle going. They’re gifts. Let the universe do its work and carry them around to where they’re needed next.

Incidentally, speaking of gifting. Its snowing like God and all the angels were dumping the excavated clouds from the most recent divine palace construction project up in heaven. Loads of the stuff is coming down. I think I might wander out there and shovel a couple of strangers’ walks. Why not? Imagine if everyone gave a gift every day…

Reckless Responsibility

Yesterday I posted on my facebook profile a link to an article from last year about a right wing Christian game based loosely on the Left Behind rapture series of books. I found the article through a series of links, originating in titilating images of women - funny how link chasing ends up in interesting places. Anyways, the article was reactionary and condemning, but because it was reactionary against a group I abhor I went along with the hype. Fortunately I got to reading the discussion that took place in the comments and saw how unbalanced and uninformed the article and reaction was to the game. Well, as fate would have it I saw a documentary tonight at the SAT about Super Columbine Massacre RPG! Earlier in the day at MIGS I listened to a speaker, Jonathan Blow who was pushing for the idea that games could be more meaningful - a seminar that I went to pretty much by accident. I actually got a bit emotional, because games, really are going to be a major aspect of the media environment and by matter of cause and effect a major source of our culture, ideals, behavious, etc. Its essential that we take this shit seriously.

But fuck, that’s just today.

An issue I’ve been thinking about a lot, and just today really got to grips with - I mean really what it was that was swimming in my head - figured out what it was. The System. By that I mean this system of control, oppression, acquired opinion, proscribed morality, all of that bullshit. So let’s rewind a bit and clear the fuzz surrounding this.

Background

I went to Toronto for their Burner party. Private party. Warehouse space occupied by a circus school. Volunteers. DIY. Costumes. Free expression. Burner parties are special because of the radical acceptance. You just do what you want. And they’re not democracies, they’re do-ocracies. If you want something done - you do it. If you want something stopped - you stop it. No reliance on rules, laws, police, enforcers, politicians, lobbyists, blah, blah. Its remarkably empowering and it really makes you take into account the consequences of your actions as well as the value you place on things. Anyways I had an absolutely amazing time. I love Burners. I honestly believe we’re changing the world. We’re a special breed (some more special than others).

Fast forward a few days, through meetings with friends new and old, another party and such. North, Dirge and I decide to do the abandoned subway station in Toronto (no clues!). Things go fairly well, but eventually we’re spotted (or think we are) and are forced into hiding underneath the platform for a while to come up with an action plan. Eventually we decide to backtrack out the way we came, figuring there are less unknowns that way. To cut a long story short we’re caught exiting onto another platform and the worker who catches us calls security. Dirge is smart enough to just walk out while North and I obediently wait for the transit pigs to show.

We get issued $115 tickets. And while its a total pain in the ass to have to pay and I feel like an idiot for not running away I’m actually glad to have stayed, talked to the guards and gotten the fine. Why?

Way back in 2002 I had what I consider a pivotal moment in my life. I was arrested for trespassing in the old Molson’s plant in Calgary. It had quite the effect on me. I was forced to really assess what I’d done and determine whether or not it was morally wrong. I couldn’t sleep the entire night. I ran scenarios in my head - what would happen if I or someone else was injured for instance among many more. In the end I determined that exploring as I did it was perfectly ethical and that part of my ethics was actually to ensure that I wasn’t caught because that would negate many of the perceived problems for police, property owners, etc. For them ignorance is bliss.

It also helped me to see in very clear, concrete terms the difference between laws, rules and actual ethics and morality. They are two very different things. The true nature of authority also becomes much more clear. When you realise what can be done to you and under what pretexts you really start to understand how fucked up The System is.

Getting nailed by the fuzz again five years later, especially after being in the womb of a Burning Man TAZ really brought home all of those lessons again, sharpened them and reminded me of things I’d allowed to fade into the background. We are controlled and manipulated constantly and in large part we’re complicit in all of it. Chriz and I stood there while a worker talked on the phone instead of just walking out. By our own moral judgements we’d done nothing wrong and indeed took full responsibility for our actions, so why wait around for someone else to come along and impose their system upon us? Dumb. Plain dumb. But it goes much further than UE.

Everything in our society is a choice. Everything in our lives are our choices. We can accept the model we’re given which is by and large restrictive and often plain destructive, or we can choose our own way. Sometimes we need to fight for our own way. We always need to take risks. No enterprise worth pursuing is without its risks. Chriz frequently uses the phrase Reckless Responsibility. I take my risks, but I also take responsibility for them. I own them. That also means I reap the rewards and learn the lessons within.

Enough for now. Its late and I have tons to do tomorrow and the next day and the next day. Heck. Life is accelerating, but its fucking awesome. My life has been changing so much lately, so many opening doors, new ideas, new wisdom. I’m so damn happy. I’m also, pretty tired. Ciao.

Tip

To use an “in” word of the times, my Montreal experience just tipped last night - yes I reached the Montreal tipping point where everything went from O.K. to Fuck I`m glad I moved here. There was a subsequent riptide that brought me back to reality a bit, but overall I`m so happy I moved here.

Last night was a meetup of the Bruleurs de Montreal Burners. Attendance wasn`t big, but that meant that I actually got to meet people rather than just being in their presence. I left with a great feeling of potential, of seeds planted and connections made. There will be new friendships, new art, all sorts of things coming from this move. Walking home through the city I saw things I liked, architecture, art, amazing little shops. I`ve inadvertantly moved into an area filled with curio, antique and pawn shops. What could be better?!

Then the little snap back. Aspects of French culture and ways of doing things that I need to adapt to. I got another parking ticket - I`m actually going to make myself a chart so I can figure out when I can park where in the neighbourhood. And today I was hoping to get a new monitor so I can use my computer instead of the roommates` but the store I went to doesn`t actually have any stock, they get it from other places so I have to wait another day or two. Wierd.

But overall, this city is full of good things. Abandoned buildings, creative people, cool places to hang out. Its vibrant, its lively, its got cheap booze on every corner.

I`ve moved into my apartment powerfully even though I`m only here a few months. I feel comfortable and I`m making it my own. I`m using my French as much as possible, so I hope I can become a part of that culture as well. This was a good choice.

Just before I left I read an article in Popular Psychology about the benefits of living in a big city, the constant exposure to new ideas, technology, information as well as the tremendous networking possibilities. It was a well timed article. Calgary to Burning Man to Montreal. Its all been good. Its only going to get better.

Burning was better then…

I remember once bringing up Burning Man and having an embittered long time Burner lapse into a rant about how the whole thing has just become a cash cow for Larry Harvey and that the real soul has gone out of it. I talked to him in soothing hippie tones, the equivalent of saying “Hey man, don`t hijack my trip dude.” and vowed never to be like him. Well…

The Burn used to be better. Why people toss around the attendance numbers like it was some kind of achievement is beyond me. Yes we`re nearing fifty thousand freaks a year. I hope it feels good to say it, because having experienced it, I`d gladly go back to the thirty thousand of my virgin year.

So now, Kay O. Sweavers Top Ten signs the Burn isn`t what it used to be;

1. No graffiti in the Johnny-On-The-Spots - What happened to this simple, universal custom? Did a teacher tell on you?
2. No runners the night of the Burn - I saw a few people try, but everyone chickened out. Christ Paul Addis had the balls to set it on fire, but nobody thought it was worth running to get a big Ranger hug and front row seats?
3. No DPW Parade - At least not that I saw. What happened to their madcap antics?
4. Not that much fire art - I really didn`t see much out there this year compared to last. It is BURNING Man right?
5. Logos - I remember fondly seeing not a single unmodified corporate logo in 2002. Winona Ryder being a personal fave. Now it doesn`t seem to matter if your truck says Budget in five foot tall letters.
6. No killer art cars - Yes Drakka killed someone. Yeah well Draka was the sexiest art car out there and the dead person was drunk as a skunk. You figure out who to blame.
7. The temple built before Monday - In 2002 I got to assist in the building of the temple, as did anyone else willing to go out and lend David Best a hand. Now its a specialized crew that has everything done before the week even begins. Lame.
8. Everyone was a virgin - I mean everyone. Whos setting the example for these kids? I guess its me. Shit.
9. No pyrotechnic foibles during the Burn - I mean what fun is it if a few roman candles don`t randomly shoot into the crowd?
10. Not accepting gifts - Perhaps most telling I spent one night as a wandering bartender, offering whiskey, screwdrivers and sangria to the thirsty. The vast majority refused my offer. Gifting is a two part process, what can you do when people don`t even know how to recieve?

Fortunately I`m not a complainer. I intend to do something about all this. Some of this. Hell I dunno. I just intend to do something. Paul Addis` actions Monday night may have stirred up some much needed controversey in that sleepy little town known as Black Rock City. People need to wake up and take action for their city, their concept of freedom and creativity.

BMORG can`t mandate the Burn. Larry Harvey can`t mandate the Burn. The local authorities can`t mandate the Burn. Not without our compliance - and we don`t need to comply. This is ours. We made it. More than any other place on Earth Black Rock City is made by its citizenry. Ultimately we ARE the city. That`s democracy baby, that`s freedom.

If you`re going next year. DO SOMETHING. Do something outlandish, something wild, something creative, something perverse. Just fucking do something. Don`t just stand and watch. Be ambitious. Extend your boundaries. Thats why we`re out there, in the cruel rugged terrain of the desert. To struggle, to struggle and expand, endlessly, like love.

And set stuff on fire. There wasn`t nearly enough of that.

Conflict!

I never thought I would be the victim of such a predicament, a classic example of man vs. circumstance. On Friday October 5th Buck 65 is playing here in Montreal as part of the POP Montreal festival. The kink, the trick, the dagger that vexes me is that DJ Krush is playing nay but a few blocks away at the very same instant. Damn you Montreal for being so cool and hip that Im forced to choose between a demi-god turntablist and a honky tonk hip hop marvel. Damn damn damn.

The other problem being that of course I have nobody to go to either show with at this point because I still dont really know very many people here. I suppose it happens that way when you first move, and though Im a touch lonely and bored there really is no reason for dismay. Theres something in the air here that lacks in Calgary. I feel like creativity, art and culture are palpable here. I can actually touch it, taste it, immerse myself in it. When I watched BravoFact tonight for instance the filmmakers and musicians were from Montreal. My neighbours and colleagues. Like a fish being plucked from a desert watering hole and thrown into the ocean. Theres so much here, its exactly what I wanted, even if its going to be hard going for the first few months.

Still Burning Man obsessed. This year its really taken root in my psyche. Going two years in a row did the trick. Im obsessed with my performance art piece, which my sponsors wont let me talk about. Its as though despite all of this, Burning Man is all Im looking forward to. I think maybe because Montreal, for its more liberal culture, ethnic diversity and artistic flair does less to quelch the Burning fervor than it does to enflame it. So heres to the French and their insistence on keeping the St. Laurent for themselves!

P.S.: Started the process of figuring out whether I can get any work through IATSE here. Also signed up to volunteer at a computer game development conference and signed onto a couple of other local mailing lists. Also talked to a Burner originally from San Fran whos living in Montreal now. Things are a movin, especially with me moving on Sunday. Woot!