See the man burn at Burning Man

“I watch the man burn amongst the most spectacular fireworks and explosions you could imagine. I feel a sense of calm to see it burn as if all anarchy and hate is disappearing with its removal from the world. I yearn for someone special to share this moment with, to replace these negative energies with something more positive. Like meerkats the people in front of me rise with the flames and block the view. I rise with them, only for two arms to grasp at mine and my lower back to turn me around. A lady behind me tells me I’m too tall and she cannot see. Somehow, someway, in a way to compromise we fall into a warm embrace. My arms clutch her and her head pushes affectionally into my chest. We watch together in near silence, with the occasional shriek and wow as the man burns until there is nothing left but a wooden wireframe.”

“We watched the Man burn several days later, from out in that avoided wilderness of deep playa, a vast vacant area out away from all the big structures and camping, populated only by distant art projects. [...] We watched the giant wooden structure of the Man explode with massive jets of burning accelerant from under a solitary disco ball, rigged to solar panels and a battery, spinning nearly silently in the desert night. Then we discovered a group of older folks that were having a picnic out by the outer boundary fence that is used to keep trash from blowing away across the playa. They offered us beer and freshly baked olive bread, baked that afternoon in a dutch oven in the city. We offered them chocolate.”

“On Saturday the night the man burns, I arrived at the man with Lamplighters aboard our work truck Lucy. I was on the upper deck. I turned to see El Pulpo drive up so close that when he spouted fire my skin was hot. He said hello and that he had been waiting for me. We watched the man burn.”