Tag: burning man (Page 1 of 3)

What do beautiful people dream of?

“Swimming pools and opportunity.”

Will technology save us?

“Those of us in car crashes. But there wouldn’t have been the crash without technology. To separate man from his machines is to defang the rattlesnake. No wings, no claws, slow and sleepy. Easy pickings, but for the fire which made the rest of the animals afraid. Fire comes first, and then pogo sticks and rail guns. Technology is us, so what you should ask is: can we save ourselves?”

Can we save ourselves?

“Probably not.”

May I lay my head gently on your stomach?

“Probably not.”

Is there nothing left to do?

“Dance. Drink. Screw. Some people like to sit by themselves writing stories, but you shouldn’t trust those fuckers.”

What is art?

“A specific lie that illuminates a general truth.”

And what is entertainment?

“Car chases and tits.”

But cannot car chases and tits be art?

“Mine are.”

…

Tits?

“Yeah, tits. Never been in a car chase. One of those things from the movies that’s actually not at all desirable to participate in. Like fucking on the beach.”

The sand.

“It’s coarse, and it gets everywhere.”

I’d like to bring up the possibility of the head-on-stomach thing again.

“You’d really have to ask my boyfriend. He shouldn’t own a cat.”

What?

O, sweet Jesus.

“STAY AWAY FROM MY LADY!”

What’s the cat’s name?

“CUNT.”

Aaaaand we’re done.

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 is  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?

“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.

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?

“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.