Toward Ecosophy

I went to Burning Man once-in 1999. It was still fairly fringe but the ticket cost was close to $100, which was a lot. The campsites were spread out like an Astrological chart encircling the "Man" at the center. I was amazed what a long, cold, dusty walk it was out to the middle of the lakebed where the Man was erected, waiting to burn. There were many post-grunge era '90s kids, plenty of old hippies, and a growing contingent of dot.com techie culture that was taking over SF. The wooden art installations were impressive, and the burn was a wild bacchanal. I was regrettably sober, but it all felt quite hallucinatory. I still recall the screams of "F*** the Man!" and "Burn the Man!" as he went up in flames and we all careened around the towering, flaming structure, waiting for it to topple. Very Wickerman! Eventually he became a large circle of glowing embers, and the morning came like a pale blue hangover. It felt like a weird dream. Did I ever want to go back? No Way. It already felt just about over.

Lurking Nocturnal Bovine