Every morning at the crack of dawn I rise, and tumble down the stairs in order to relieve myself of liquids stored in my bladder overnight.  If I’m lucky, I’ll get a walk in before breakfast is served.  It’s always the same thing, every morning, because I’m told that my digestive system is peculiar and this is what it can handle.  Within hours, my house is empty, and I find myself alone again.

I have no job, and so few of my friends are around during the day, so I am forced to find little ways to occupy myself until the rest of my family spills back inside around dinnertime.  Sometimes, I’ll play with the toys I have scattered about the house.  Mostly, though, I nap, and my dreams are filled with memories of companionship, warmth, and a man who loves me unconditionally, even though he had to go away.

I suppose I understand why.  Protection is a basic instinct that we all possess, although some possess it more strongly than others.  I cannot remember just how long it’s been since the day he went away, but what I do remember is the sadness and the feeling of my heart breaking inside me.  He promised he’d come back.  I always wonder when that will be.

Dinner comes and goes, and I take a walk in the twilight.  Leaves crunch underneath, and in the air I can smell wood burning.  Before long, I know that I’ll be back in my bed for the evening, and more dreams will come whilst I sleep.  Around the block I turn, and I see my home up ahead.  There’s a car in the driveway, which wasn’t there before my departure.  I trot onward, my pace quickening.  There’s a person sitting on the front step, and as the darkness of night rushes in around me, I recognize a familiar face that I have not seen in seven months.

Up the lawn I run, bursting through multi-colored leaves that the lawn service hasn’t picked up yet.  Instinct takes over, and I take flight, jumping into the man’s open arms.  He laughs as I squirm, proclaiming my joy and surprise at his return, kissing his face and howling so the whole neighborhood will know.  They’ll know, and never forget the night my Daddy came home.

———-

http://www.mentalfloss.com/blogs/archives/40324

In this culturally-confused century, death had become a business. Modern funeral homes were venues of alternately spartan and extravagant economics. Surely no living person approved of the decor of a modern funeral home as a fair launching pad for the next stage of existence?

He lost hours of sleep wondering what the person who’d just crossed over really thought of the beige drywall and plaster pedestals adorned with red, yellow and blue flower arrangements? The pipe organ that needed tuning and the PA system that crackled tearfully as it played Elvis’s version of “How Great Thou Art?” What would they think of the mourners that deigned to show up, dressed in their dowdy, shapeless Sunday best? Wearing the same mourning outfit for their grandmother that they’d warn for their college roommate and the girl who worked in the mail room at their office? What would they think of having their blood — their life’s essence — drained out of them with a sump pump and replaced with a mixture of formaldehyde and ethanol?

Lise had looked up at him from her copy of Gray’s Anatomy, sucking lazily on a joint, as she told him that there was enough embalming fluid buried in the United States each year to fill eight Olympic swimming pools.

“So death is literally poisoning the earth?”

“No more for you,” she said, snatching the pipe he held. “And it’s not death. Death’s been around for centuries without poisoning the earth.”

“So it’s just the people then,” he said. “Man, humans ruin everything.”

“Not all humans. Modern funerals and burial have only existed for a few hundred years. And every culture has there own traditions. The Cheyenne built scaffolds, the Vikings had burial at sea. Not everyone got it wrong.”

–

Reid was wearing a red leather Highwayman jacket with a corseted waist, torn Levis and all-leather army surplus paratrooper boots. His stiletto, harpy and hunting knife were all properly folded, holstered and tucked into his pockets. His coarse black hair was cropped close to his scalp. A package of Sweet Aftons cigarettes was tucked into one front pocket, three joints peeked in the other.

The skiff was built from plywood planks he’d bought at Home Depot two years before. He’d sat up in bed one morning and called in sick to work to make the journey. Lise had returned from her nursing practicum late that night and found him cutting the shape of the bow with a circular saw.

“You’re going to need the ethanol if the price of gas goes any higher.”

“Only me?” she asked.

“I bike to work, remember? Pass me that sandpaper.”

Two of the boys grabbed either end of the skiff, guiding it towards the edge of the lake. A third boy doused the end of the torch with lighter fluid, holding it away from his body while one of the others struck a match, setting the thing alight.

Lise turned away, unable to watch what came next.

The wind blew fiercely, flapping the pages she held and blowing her hair into her eyes as she read the words aloud:

Lo, there do I see my father.
Lo, there do I see my mother.
Lo, there do I see my sisters
and my brothers.
I see the line of my people
back to the beginning.
They do call to me to take my place
in the halls of Valhalla
where the brave may live forever.

–

I lost a friend of mine just before Halloween. For various reasons, several of us were prevented from attending the funeral and were forced to have our own little funeral in the digital realm via Facebook and LiveJournal. The post that inspired the storyline came from a comments post by his ex-boyfriend:

I remember walking up to him in the hallway while he was laying in the floor with his legs up in the air against the wall, when I ask him what he’s doing, he simply smiles and responds, “…transcending…”.

Nonprofit organizations are always seeking new ways to get their cause into the conversation and inspire people to give.  Reaching people through social networking technology seems to be the best way to do it these days—it is both authentic and effective—much more so then the once popular mass print mailing.  As Whittemore says, the rapid communication of social networking technology is enabling nonprofits to customize and disseminate requests for support across wider and wider networks.  Nonprofits can use interactive media to expressively share their story, social media to connect to and create communities, and online payment to enable simple and hassle-free online giving—goodbye checks!

The question remains, why do people give—I think it is because they like the feeling of doing good and making a difference. People invest in a cause if they can connect to it somehow. And today’s technologies are enabling these dynamic connections to take place.  It is up to the nonprofits to leverage technology in the worthy pursuit to inspire people to invest in that “good feeling.”  Facebook, Twitter, Blogs, and other social media are growing to be the best places for nonprofits to share their story, get it into the conversation, and inspire more giving.

Pajiba is a smart, snarky website dedicated to pointing out the folly of most Hollywood schlock while also taking joy in some of its superior, lesser known achievements. (And the occasional B-horror film) As time went on and contributers amassed, TV, music and books became post-fodder as well. The site has always welcomed comments and the tangential turns they usually take. The commenters are a particularly rowdy bunch that often spend less time ruminating over the latest Lars von Trier film than discussing household objects that shold be amassed for the coming zombie apocalypse. The community has been going like this for years, the commenters know each other, follow each other’s blogs and organize meet ups. It’s a following who’s loyalty I really haven’t seen duplicated on the web.

One of the  superstar commentors went by the screen name AlabamaPink. She contributed to the blog from it’s inception. It’s impossible to demonstrate here how years of banter and conversation threads led to profound friendships and honest admiration from those ghost visitors like myself that read but never comment. She suffered from leukemia and passed away earlier this year. See the complete farewell post here.  Read her blog chronicling her illness here. Donate to leukemia & lymphoma research here, if you’re so moved. Below is a selection from the farewell post, which demonstrates the power of online relationships at their purest. No narrative that I could come up with can really compare to this genuine love and grief. I urge you to take the time to read the comments in the link. The website never had as much traffic or as long a comment thread as the day after AlabamaPink passed away.

“We are otherwise at a loss for words. We’ve never met Amanda, but she became a part of this place several years ago — she was one of the original Eloquents. Over the last year or so, since she was diagnosed with cancer, we’ve followed her battles with leukemia. And even when several rounds of chemotherapy and radiation failed, she never lost hope. What was even more inspiring about Amanda was the way she faced cancer with brave determination and an unflinching sense of humor. She was amazing. Amanda was in Houston getting experimental treatments for leukemia when she passed.

“She meant a ton to us, and the people on this site meant a lot to her, too. She sent a handwritten letter a few months ago, written on a handmade card she and her son had created, and — appropriately — Alice in Wonderland stationary. In it, she wrote:

“’During the entire clusterfuck of a spring and summer as I slogged through this cancer mess, I have never felt alone. I know that even in some of my worst moments, flying solo in the hospital, I can post my blabbering out onto the Internet, and magically people across the continent and beyond respond — with love and support … without the quirky as fuck little community at Pajiba, I’d be without some of the lifeboat of support that has carried me this far.’

“During the last year, Amanda inspired a lot in us. She brought out the prayers and hopes of a community that more often than not, relishes in squashing them. She inspired The Girl with Curious Hair to run a marathon. She inspired Prisco’s Cannonball Run. And she made many of us think about how we’d deal with the same hand if it were dealt to us. Not a one of us, I can imagine, would’ve managed it as well as Amanda.”

andreadonadio:

countbelvedere:

“So okay, I don’t want to be a traitor to my generation and all but I don’t get how guys dress today. I mean, come on, it looks like they just fell out of bed and put on some baggy pants and take their greasy hair – ew – and cover it up with a backwards cap and like, we’re expected to swoon? I don’t think so.”

- Cher from clueless

Ok the quote fits if I were to change a few things such as swap out baggy pants for skinny jeans, but dammit it still applies. SO basically I just don’t understand the attractive appeal of  hipsters. Now i know what your saying “Matt, aren’t you a hipster?” My reply “No!” I mean have you looked around at a bar in brooklyn these days its fuckin gross! Everyone looks the same. The guys are all crack addict skinny thin I could snap one of them in half and they all got bad long hair which is always noticiably greasy. And if the hair isn’t long it’s usually styled into something I can only describe as ‘Dr.Seuss meets the 60’s,70’s’. But that might be my own personal preference of short hair on men conflicting with there sublime beauty. Oh maybe its just that I appreciate men who are men. It seems that half these boys are so androgynous that I can’t understand how they could be attractive to anyone. I mean I’ve seen napkins that boast more sexuality then these guys. I’ve often found myself at times trying to discern whose a man or women when im out at the bar. OVerall though the main thing I hate is how it seems everyone is trying to look more weird then the next, so being unattractive is attractive these days…..

Well luckily im gay, so I don’t need to worry about the fate of this generation of breeders, good luck with that ladies. Thankfully us gays have style oh and muscles don’t forget muscles!

YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME, NO OFFENSE MATT BUT YOU ARE NO ALICIA SILVERSTONE- MORE LIKE ONE OF THOSE SHITTY GRANDMAS THAT COMPLAINS ABOUT THE KIDS THESE DAYS. IF I WANT TO FUCK A NAPKIN I WILL DO SO AND WITHOUT YOUR JUDGEMENT; CONSIDER YOURSELF OFFICIALLY FIRED AS MY WINGMAN.  LEAVE ME AND MY GREASY HAIR ATTACHED TO PENISES IN PEACE- WE ARE OK WITHOUT YOU. TRUST

Dibs on Belve being my wingman.

Aaaaaaaand scene.

I am Goldilocks and I have an addiction – I read books and keep them too. I have always been a loner, really more of a book person than a people person. I did not enjoy large groups of people, but if someone wanted to discuss a book they had read – then I was all ears. After discovering the internet, my book reading increased because I now had access to on-line book sources and did not need to leave the house to find new books to purchase. But it was still a lonely existence. My only contact with the world was the mail carrier.

While searching the internet to find a way to help my catalog my babies I found a list-serv that changed my life. I don’t remember which one but I during the discussion about organizing your book collection there was a mention of a web site for creating an on-line book catalog. To bad I had lost the link to those folks because I owe them a big thank you.

Too Big and Impersonal

The site, called   allowed me to type in the ISBN code of the book and all the information about the book appeared. Wow, but I have thousands of books this would take the rest of my life!. There has to be an easier way. Further along on the site they discuss a bar code scanner. For just $15.00 I can order the Cue Cat scanner and scan the bar code labels from the back of the book. Wonderful – I ordered one immediately. The next problem is that it is only free if you have less than 200 books, so I paid the lifetime membership of $25.00 and you know that is still cheaper than most software, so I consider it a bargain. But when the excitement wore off – I was still as lonely as before, the difference being that I had a new toy to play with. I didn’t really connect with the others on the social side of things. There was no meeting of the titles, so to speak.

Too Small and Stuffy

I reasoned that if there is one place like that on the web, surely there would be more. The next place I found was called Good Reads. Here the emphasis is more on the social aspect sharing book reviews and recommendations. A very nice place but the information must be typed in by hand and it will keep track of your books – those you own and the ones you do not but want to read (your wish list so to speak). It is still lonely here as I have not yet found a group with similar interests or who want to interact with me. They want to talk about real “literature” , not the “trash” I like to read. I will keep searching.

Just Right

The third one I found is called – Maybe this will be just right!

Well, my friend, it has been great talking to you about one of my fav things to do – hope I didn’t bore you to death. But since I had a captive audience so to speak (writing a letter) I thought I would let out some of my enthusiasm for the subject show through. And of course, I know you are also one of my like-minded friends. It was so nice to meet you face to face at the Princeton conference last spring! See you over at real soon.

http://digg.com/music/Gorillaz_will_be_working_with_Watchmen_Mastermind_Alan_Moore

This is nerd-tastic! For all the people that love Alan Moore (you know where to find them — comic book shops, GameStop, mom’s basement, etc.) they are ecstatic that Moore is teaming up with Gorillaz’s pair, Damon Albarn and Jamie Hewlitt. Alan Moore, writer of such comic book classics as Watchmen, V for Vendetta, and the Killing Joke (where the Joker permanently cripples BatGirl), who was promoting his new magazine, Dodgem Logic, verified that the rumor was indeed true. This development will bring a brand new audience to opera culture.

The comments posted by the fans were mostly favorable, and nerdy. There were 16 comments when I first read it, but when I tried to re-read that postings, they had been deleted. I can only imagine what led to some of those comments.

DarthKevin: Dude, whatcha doin’?

SexyGuy48: Playing W.o.W. (World of Warcraft). ‘Sup?

DarthKevin: I just read on slashdot and confirmed on Wired and Digg that Alan Moore is writing a opera with the Gorillaz.

SexyGuy48: For real?

DarthKevin: Yep

SexyGuy48: Does that mean we have to listen to opera?

DarthKevin: Dude, do you want to be the only guy in the Math-letes who isn’t cool? It’s Alan Moore, so it’s going to be cool. I’m gonna post kudos to this and then start a flame war with anime club. ttyl.

SexyGuy48: w-ever, luzr.

Gordon Brown has paid tribute to the “unbreakable spirit” of those who “dared to dream”, at an event marking 20 years since the Berlin Wall fell.

President Obama squeezed in a trip to Copenhagen last month to lobby, unsuccessfully, for Chicago to host the 2016 Summer Olympics. He plans to travel to Oslo next month to accept the Nobel Peace Prize, an award that even Obama has said he does not deserve. And this coming week, he sets out on a weeklong tour of Asia. But the president does not plan to travel to Germany to attend the 20th anniversary celebration Monday of the fall of the Berlin Wall, drawing heated criticism from those who say he’s ignoring a shining triumph of American-inspired democracy.

These are just a few of the headlines you’ll find if you search the Internet for the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. This milestone is not only being covered by the media, but it’s also the topic of many digital narratives in the world of Web 2.0. People from all over the world, Germans, Americans, French, Italians, are communicating over the web and sharing their stories, their memories, and their photos. One of the most interesting digital narratives that I found on this subject is on Flickr. Xerxes2K started a group on Flickr called “Experience History: Berlin 1961-1989.” This group invites members to to take part in writing our virtual history book by sharing photographic memories of divided Berlin during this period.

On November 4, PicFiend wrote: I was in my bedroom reading when I heard noises out in the hall way. I got up to see what was making the noise when I noticed that there were more lights on than should be at that time of the morning. I went to the top of the stairs and look down into the entry way and saw my Dad, his two aides, driver and other officers I didn’t recognize. I ask what was going on and my father looked up and said for me to go back to bed and that he would see me later. All of the men were dressed in fatigues, helmets and holstered side arms. You see my Dad was the US Commandant at that time and he had been notified by the red phone in his bedroom of East German troop movement heading toward the entry points from West Berlin.I did not find out until later that morning that the East Germans had sealed off all access routes into East Berlin and that three East German vehicular water cannons had been dispatched to the Brandenburg Gate to seal off that entry point.

More to follow

mobilene says: I was 16 and on a summer exchange program from Indiana, USA, in 1984, and we visited Berlin for a few days on our stay. I had a terrible pocket camera and no photographic sense. On the day the wall came down, I got my photos off the shelf and looked at them again. I had been overwhelmed by the Wall when I experienced it, but I was even more overwhelmed to know that it was coming down. Posted 26 hours ago. ( permalink )

squirrelmonkey says: Thanks for sharing your word and photos mobilene   I found these different view points of the Brandenburger Tor really interesting.   The group has many other members who have shared their stories with one another. While their stories and comments certainly create narratives, it is their photos that tell the real story. I strongly encourage anyone who is interested in the subject to visit the site and click on some of the member’s links to view their photos. You may find that you need to dig around a member’s site in order to find the photos, but many of them are worth the search. One that I enjoyed was Pjern‘s photos of Berlin. The captions he wrote for each photo go tell a very nice narrative.

is on her way September 3 at 3:34pm

Maria is heading to Kenya to – hopefully – secure government approval for her fiancé, Mbui, to marry her and move to the U.S.

Just over one year ago, Maria and her family (all from Chicago) went on a weeklong safari in Kenya.  Mbui, a bird expert, was their guide.  Although guides are forbidden to interact extensively with the travelers, Maria and Mbui took a liking to each other and exchanged email addresses.  Emails turned to Skypes which turned to love.  Maria returned to Kenya six months later for a week-long visit with Mbui.  She came back to Chicago engaged to him.

It’s been a long haul with many setbacks (for example, Mbui was mugged and kidnapped on his first trip to the courthouse for a visa), but they’re on the final stretch.  With Kenyan government approval, 27-year-old Mbui will move to the U.S – where he’s never even visited before – and marry Maria in three weeks.

They’ve spent a total of 18 days physically together.  Here are her Facebook updates, along with comments, from the past three months.  Thanks to Web 2.0, Maria and Mbui now have a nice little digital wedding album.

struck gold at the Maasai Market Yesterday. The big day is tomorrow. September 9 at 6:58am

At last we know. Mbui has been approved. Thanks to all for you support. September 10 at 1:18pm This’s great news! No more tears. . . sorry i dint meet yu,mayb another tyme (A Kenyan friend of Mbui’s)

has less than 24 hrs left in Kenya. This time my departure will not be quite so hard, knowing that we will be together again in approximately 2 weeks. I will miss my Kenyan friends, but don’t worry WE WILL be back. September 11 at 3:53pm

Is home after a very intense week in Kenya. Have a few hours to recover and then its business and a little partying 24/7 for the next Month + September 13 at 5:19pm

Although Mbui got his visa, there’s still HUGE apprehension about his passage through U.S. customs.

wants to talk to Mbui. September 26 at 10:13am your updates are so cryptic. I, your sister, lovingly request that you clarify. I’m sure many of your facebook friends are on the edges of their seats like me, wanting to hear how this crazy international arrangement progresses. As your mother would say, “Details please!” (Maria’s sister)

Waiting at the airport. September 27 at 3:18pm

The wait is killing me. September 27 at 4:42pm

Airport reunion!

posted September 27 at 4:54pm

Licensed to Wed. October 1 at 9:38am

It’s too early. I can’t wait for Mbui to learn how to use the El.  October 4 at 5:42am Ye, takes times n to some forever! (Mbui’s Kenyan friend)

Will take forever learning am poor in downloading (Mbui)

Is looking forward to the 4 day weekend in Michigan with Mbui.  October 8 at 10:21am i wish you a better stay and weekend.nairobi is boring without omwagi.i might be forced to join for a weekend @ michigan. (Mbui’s Kenyan friend)

It’s snowing in Michigan. Mbui is in awe.  October 10 at 2:29pm

Will soon be Maria Gitau in a few hours.  October 17 at 8:38am Wao the big at last corngrants big tm i wsh i ws there 2 witness ths wth my 2 eyes Mo Gitao how nice.AM at Tanzania 4 the last 2dys am commencing kilimanjaro hiking on Monday then a 3dy safari at Tz Jst wanna wsh u a colourful weddn,so tht i cn cm visit u guyz,hp wn your thro wth the wed our frequent communacation wl go on.since its fadding.till death do u part kip it kenya U.S.A. Big Love. (Mbui’s Kenyan friend)

We tried artichoke for dinner tonight. Now he doesn’t like 2 of my favorite vegitables.   October 28 at 7:29pm

The teacher becomes the student. He FINALLY gave me a proper Swahili lesson.  November 5 at 8:31pm

is going to her first soccer game tonight.  Sat at 12:01pm

Chicago Fire game

What a nice little online narrative of their non-traditional, technologically enabled courtship.

A woman’s voice pierced through the scattered laughter and the mélange of music. The voice repeated the question and sounded closer as the minutes past. Raj and his group were around their campfire. Morning was approaching and it past the hour the group had agreed upon for their curfew. They were sipping warm beers and telling the tales of their day. They were a laid-back group and didn’t mind regrouping before the next experience, the next forgotten moment, the next sight you’d-have-to-see-to-believe. Out of their group, many of them had been attending Burning Man for only a few years, but the oldest of them who called himself Faeroe, had been losing his mind at the playa for over ten years. He kept recalling previous incidents that no one really cared about but kept asking him polite questions every once in a while to indulge him. Raj was staring into the embers thinking about everything and nothing at all while the two women sitting on either side leaned over him to gossip about another woman they had spent the day with. He had tuned them out, as well as the voice that kept repeating “has anyone seen this guy?”

“Oh my God!” Scarlet snorted and started choking on her beer. Raj looked up as all the heads turned to see what caused such an outburst from Scarlet. A little woman approached their camp, her short arm outstretched which at the end was a Polaroid. Scarlet was starting to laugh giddily and Raj sidekicked her in the shins and muttered for her to “shh” and to behave herself. Faeroe paused from the yarn he was weaving and addressed the woman in his slow, Matthew McConaughey ala Dazed and Confused drawl.

“Hey, little lady. What’s it that you’re looking for?” Silent for a few seconds, she stomped over to him, arm outstretched the entire time. When she neared, she replied, “Have you seen this man? He has my things and I think he might have stolen them.” Feiro casually plucked the Polaroid from her had and took an interested look at it. “Naw,” he said, “Can’t say that I have. When did you last see him?” He passed the picture to the next person who passed it along. “I took off my backpack to get out the brownies and when I turned around, they were both gone. I can’t believe it! I thought this was a community!”

“Hey, man! It is a community and sometimes people in a community steal stuff and are jerks!” Scarlet snickered as she reached for the picture. She was sipping her beer and as she looked down it sprayed out of her mouth. She was gasping for air and was making half-formed sentences involving leprechauns and asking the skies about the location of gold. Raj grabbed the picture as she doubled over her knees in hysterics. The little woman stomped over to where they were sitting, chirring at Scarlet. “Well, er, how would you like it if all your things were gone? No one will help me around here. Unh, well, if see him, let me know.” She snatched the Polaroid from Raj’s hand and clomped off into the shadows.

“Did you see that her? Did you see that picture? It was like a match made in Dublin!” Scarlet said incredulously. “Why did she have a Polaroid? Those have been gone for years! She must have known him from before. Ha! That made my night. Now I can sleep happy!” Bemused, Raj thought for a moment to the last time he saw a Polaroid and agreed Scarlet had a point. His thought did not linger long. It had been a long couple of days and sleep overtook him as the coals replayed his recent memories.

The next morning, Raj was on ice duty. He stood in the long line waiting with an empty bucket for his turn for an overpriced bag of ice. His group didn’t bring many perishable in the way of food, but they didn’t want their supply of beer or beverages to boil in the desert heat, either. As he stood there, he thought of what it must have been like to be at Woodstock 40-years ago. His eyes stopped and gazed over when they reached the garbage. Both the black garbage bin and the blue recycling container were overflowing. Evian bottles lay next to Mountain Dew cans and wax paper wrappers fluttered with a threat to escape every time someone walked by. This was a long way from the 3 Days Peace & Music, he thought. Feeling some benevolent disdain for the trash, Raj made a mental note to not throw his broken toaster oven in the Dumpster when he returned to his New Jersey apartment. He was about to shuffle forward in the queue when the little woman from before dawn suddenly appeared in his peripheral vision. At the same moment, the man from the photo was on the other side of him.

“Booop,” he said in Raj’s ear. Raj was at a lost as to where to focus his attention or what to do. “Excuse me?” Raj asked, unsure if he had misunderstood.

“Booooooooooooooooooooooop booooooooooooooooooooop! I think she loves me!” Raj stood stunned still, even though there was room to move up in line. The man hopped, not unlike a caricature of a rabbit, hands curled underneath his chin to the person in front of Raj. “Boop?” he questioned. The person nervously laughed and the man seamlessly posed with an invisible mic, first holding it to his own mouth, then to his unsuspecting prey.

“Ask me ‘what did I learn at Burning Man.’”

“What?”

“Ask me what I learned at Burning Man!” the bearded, bald-headed man asked, his naked-chest almost visibly growing redder underneath the rising sun.

“Uhh, what did you learn at Burning Man?” the person in front of Raj asked. It sounded like a question about a question.

“‘How to hide my single malt from the crazy bitch who decided it was the perfect complement to Mountain Dew!’”

Raj stared as the woman approached the man demanded that he hand over one of the backpacks slung across his arm. He booped at her in quiet tones and the woman fell silent. She nodded at him as he handed over one of the packs and stood waiting as he booped his way to the front of the line. Raj was close enough to the kiosk to hear the conversation.

“This booping ice melted! It is an injustice to sell water and claim it is ice,” the red-bearded man argued with the attendant behind the counter. The heat was making Raj woozy but it was only a few minutes before the attendant handed over a solid bag of frozen cubes without an exchange of currency. Ice was one of the few items everyone in the camp needed and would pay for. A refund on melted ice? Now he had seen it all. But then, Raj would be damned if the little woman didn’t run over to the man, clasped hands with him and they both paraded away, untwining momentarily to skip around a cluster of people, each dressed in individual colors of the rainbow. The person behind Raj leaned over his shoulder and said, “If there was one thing that I learned at Burning Man, it is not to be surprised at anything.”

Raj made his way back to his own group, hyperaware of the surrealism surrounding him. Every few steps, he looked down at the ground in order not to trip over his own feet. He saw a discarded yellow shirt imprinted with a banana, a CD cover with a dangerous looking mouse on it, and lonesome shoes. Looking up at the sky, the clouds shifted shapes to reveal meanings, only of which he forgot the next day.

(Inspiration was found here, here, here, and here.  (And also from a  recent text conversation between me and my friend.))