it was mostly poor judgement on my part. i wanted/needed a night of dancing
(psytrance), Steven had a Pulsar party coming up and so i grabbed the chance.
out in the desert, not 100 miles from home. weather was great.
it was mostly poor judgement on my part. i wanted/needed a night of dancing
(psytrance), Steven had a Pulsar party coming up and so i grabbed the chance.
out in the desert, not 100 miles from home. weather was great.
my usual routine is to show up at 11pm or so, scope out the scene/vibe, and if all seems well, take whatever Technical Assistance seems appropriate; in this case, a fairly heroic dose of LSD. here's where the poor judgement comes in... the music didn't suit me, but i was hoping it or me would come around in sync. well that didn't happen; i don't think i danced more than a half hour total, instead of the usual til-dawn. so here i am, heiroglyphics rising out of the dust up to my waist in the partial dark, i can barely navigate the desert floor, and i'm left awaiting the dawn. it was a long time coming.
i'm usually quite good at this. this was one of those luckily rare busts.
no harm done, i basically laid on my cot in the outer ring far from the stage, listening to music, ekeing enjoyment out of the long moment and looking at the stars, sleep of course quite impossible.
dawn was amazing; assistance or not desert sunrises are wonderful (especially with). at this point my visual field is functional again, though infinitely translucently filligreed and around 6 or 7 am i drove off. WHEW.
hungry, i drove back highway 58 to Mojave and stopped at McDonalds for breakfast. McD's parking lots are one of the cracks in the world, like highway rest stops, where things can be strange and i was certainly primed for it. a destitute-looking man was sitting by an outside grey power box by himself. i had in the roadster some snack-y stuff leftover from the dance party, cans of Starbucks coffee, dried fruit, etc. said hello, how are you, asked him if he wanted it, yes he did. when he looked up the sadness on his face was like a bolt of lightning, it was hard not to cry on the spot. i sputtered some small talk and headed in to eat McD's reasonably OK breakfast. when i came back out he was gone.
i regretted not asking him to come in and eat with me, but the situation took me by surprise; and i don't want to play well-meaning-do-gooder. i wanted to know his story.
on the drive home i worked out that next time something like this arises, i will find a way to ask: so what's your story? tell me your story. i think this is the possible linkage, because i actually do want to know his story. his story, not mine.
as one might expect under these circumstances, the photos are terrible and pointless, but mostly because i was so close to home i didn't bother to try. but that was a mistake; the desert around the north end of Edwards Air Force Base is fascinating, with crazy ruins and odd installations.
