Only incremental change is sustainable, I am fond of saying.

I know in this city that kindness is all too often misconstrued as weakness, and still, I could be kinder.

So, I asked my laundry guy what his name is, finally, after how long? And I remember it. Kirk.

I am allowing quiet in my apartment in the evenings, just the rustling turn of the page, the hum of the refrigerator.

Even though this day, cool air, warm sun, feels like it will never end, soak it up on the top step of the stoop, even after the pigeons improve their aim.

Upon Considering Leaving Brooklyn

It kept me up, a little, last night, that I failed again to tell you I love you, when of course I know it, I am wearing it all over. Not kept up in a bad way, just the fuzzy glow that comes from under the door as you are falling asleep.

I stop by Sammy's for coffee this morning, I am running late. They are still remodeling, the door is propped open. I tell him I like his new windows.

Repeated today the story of the woman we admitted into the shelter. Straight from the hospital, in the middle of the night, with two children. Pregnant with the third, he had beaten her into contractions.

Last night the turning light caught me in the intersection. Instead of standing dumbly in the painted crosswalk I went down the median, elevated with air shafts from the train. I let my hands wave over the dark traffic as music and cars made streams down Fourth Avenue.

I begin to think I know what I lose when I leave you. I begin to think I know what I gain when I leave you. Then I know, really, of course, I have no way of knowing.

yeah, I know this thing is not loading right. Add that to no internet connection at home and there is just so much time I can steal from work to deal with this. Sorry, gang. I hope to get in working order soon, as fall is coming and it is gorgeous and I want to tell you about it.

I was definitely not alone in the joys of bunnyness. The bunny manifesto may just become my new personal credo. What's not to like about fluffy goodness?












God bless the goofy genius who made a pair of electric-scooter bunny slippers.

Honk honk! Here comes the water truck! It was to keep the dust down that they sprinklered every day. This is the only liquid that is allowed to hit the ground, so unless you set up a shower that collected and then evaporated your water, this is the only bathing you get. Our motto at the Robot Bunny Monster Princess Camp was "filthy and tripping" and we stuck with it. Although "baby-wiped" was more like it. And of course, I mean tripping in a metaphorical sense.

The silver toes is mine, and this is exactly how filthy, and all the nakedy goodness we missed out on, because we were sitting in our "front yard" and watching it go by. And I was really, reallly enjoying the fact that I had feet. Metaphorically speaking.







If the vision of this emergent Venus does not make you want go, then something has died inside you and I am sorry for that.

When I get something like this:

"You are validated Obtain your fantasy house immediately"

in my email box, I am very tempted to go back to my regular wan odd peering at the world. But, I am trying to tell a story here, so ok, no interruptions. We'll see how that holds. Well, that lasted all of two seconds, thank you editorial comment brain track.

Fine. Dust storms. Yes. Two days in a row, and to white-out effect. The first time, we ran for cover, and I imagined a gasping stifling wait it out under the hot canvas tents of the Alien Monkey Love Nest. Hey, any port in a storm. When we got back, our tent was still up, although one pole was splintered (duct tape!) and everything was covered in a half-inch of fine dust. That liberated us from cleaning for the rest of the time, coz basically day two we was fucked. Hurray for surrendering to entropy! The next day, when there were two storms, or just one really long one with a break in the middle, a little rain at the end, and the appearance of not one but two rainbows in the sky (oh, yeah, you should have heard the hippie cries of delight at that!) we danced through it. And garnered a huge appreciation for the Mad Max esthetic. More than a little sexy, no?

I was six or seven when I first heard “Disneyland.” At that age, kid logic is still in full effect, so even though I could very well have known better, and being a pretty literal minded child (ok, and a very literal minded adult. stop laughing now, I am trying to tell a story) I imagined a country where Disney characters lived. Like, the real 2-D Tinkerbell and hippos with tutus and dancing mops and Bambi lived there, somehow, through some warping magic, pinned to the landscape of southern California. Hell yeah, I wanted to go there and never leave and be able to fly and have bluebirds make my bed in the morning and have enormous diamonds for eyeglasses. Burning Man is like that. And here are some of the characters that live there.

Is it three miles across? Could be. Everyone said to bring a bike, but I liked walking. I liked that it was easy to get distracted--look at this! Let's go here! Pancakes! And you could catch a ride on the only kind of non-human powered things allowed-those registered with the Department of Mutant Vehicles. Here are some (there were hundreds!), and they give you a nice idea of the whole candy-colored warped vision of the week...

I tried posting some of these earlier and they wouldn't go up, for whatever reason. Mair shot just about everything, and a bunch of things I never saw, or surely do not remember.

This is me and Mair's torso. I was a silver- (or metallic blue-) clad robot bunny all week.



Every day they would run a sprinkler truck down the street and people would run after it for a bath. It was the only running water in the whole encampment of 47,000 people. It was better than the ice cream truck. You would hear it honk honk and then see it roll slowly by, followed by giggling wet naked or nearly naked running bathers. I saw this guy go by one morning, and was delighted to see him again later in the day. No clue as to who he is.



Something is making me very happy. I don't remember this being taken, but then, I am so full of joy I can't get my eyes open.

Bless my star-crossed socks, I am back from Burning Man. And this world seems really strange. If I met you there, please feel free to make yourself known. If you know me already, I'll say simply this: it was amazing. I'm not sure how to talk about it. I might need a few days to get there.