Burning Person

In my ‘write something every day’ challenge, I’ve sat down and blurted out a stream of consciousness each day. I realise, as a writing exercise, that this is the intellectual equivalent of endlessly brushing my hair.

But, it did get me thinking about the last time I did this – many years ago. I had a wee read of these notes this morning. Some are banal but others are moderately interesting.

Almost 15 years ago I was employed as a researcher for a project run through the Department of Anthropology at UCLA, examining the social practices of attendees at Burning Man, a huge, annual festival/fuck-fest in the Nevada desert.

At the time I simply turned over my notes to the head of the research team, a tiny, beautifully formed Canadian chap who lived on a sailing trapeze in the top of a warehouse in the Mission District. It was not my project and not appropriate for me to share the research data but I wrote and kept my own observations as I went. I returned to Australia a few months later and never thought much more about it.

I think, over the next few days, I might excavate some of these snippets and edit them for clarity, and post them.

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