Cozy Bear had bought me a playa bike, $35 and not working. You can peddle and move, but the moment you start cruisin, you’re fucked. First, the bike would spaz like a dying goat, then completely seize and lock down. After a few tries, the chain gave. I swang it around my head in anger. Trubdr said there was a bike camp, Zack(h) will hoook it up. We head over. Zack(h) is not there… but Hot Wings is, and Hot Wings has all the tools. He fixes the broken chain, licks his palms, and sends me on my merry way. However, the broken chain was just a symptom, there was something internally fucked up about this bike, and Hot Wings did not address that (pull it together Hot Wings).
So off to the playa I ride, thinking my bike is fixed (it’s not), seizure number two happens and now I’m stuck in the middle of the desert. I look at the sky and scream WHY GOD WHY?! A dust storm emerges. Ferocious clouds of white dust take over my vision and I see nothing, not even my own boobs. All of a sudden, a figure appears on bike, through the storm, a sexy muscle-man with a bandana covering his whole face and ski goggles covering what I will later discover to be smoldering retina display eye sockets. I basically came right there, Zack(h) found us.
He fixed my bike, and I was obsessed. He touched my leg, I poured beer in his mouth, and I gave him a lighter that had “pussy” written on it, hoping it would foreshadow some real pussy giving in the near future. When I went back to camp I decided I needed to show him who he was dealing with, I’m fucking Hila the Killa goddamnit. So I wrote him this song:
Rap for Bike Master Zack(h):
I gave you my pussy
You fixed my bike
when I look at you
I know I’m not a dyke
I’ll sit on your seat
you can peddle hard
I decided to seduce you
with a musical card
I gave you my pussy
you fixed my gears
I got a one speed now
will you fuck me for 2 beers?
I want to eat your dick.
That’s all I had, I later wrote a bunch of bike related words and their rhyming counterparts, but it didn’t go much further. It was a masterpiece. I planned to write it on a postcard (from Intercourse, PA) and send it to him later that day.
Luckily I ran into him first.
It’s a new day and I’ve written Zack(h) his poem, which was originally supposed to be a rap song, but I really didn’t have enough material. I figured I’d keep working on it and eventually bring a band to his camp, or maybe just send a postcard. I was getting nervous. I couldn’t tell if he felt the same tingling sensations I was feeling, but I was determined to put them there. This card would do the trick. I imagined him blowing a load at first read.
So I went off into the desert, poem in book, and love in my loins. Trubdr, Oren and I went off to find Day Burner all the way at the edge of the world. We drank whisky, sang songs and decided to go exploring. We all had bikes (thanks to my imaginary lover) and we were cruising. Within 10 minutes, Day Burner and I found ourselves on a trajectory that apparently Trubdr and Oren were not. And here’s the thing at burning man — you never see who you want to see, and you’re never staying together as a group. Just FORGET ABOUT IT. Once we looked back it was over, they were gone. We waited like 6 degrees on the sun, and peaced the fuck out of there.
So now it’s Day Burner and I, riding along the dusty floors, heading to everywhere and nowhere. I would say naked-old-man-ass count is at 7 by this point. It was a beautiful day.
It happened in a flash, caught me off guard, turned my head around and Zack(h) is riding past me like a Trojan horse, only he’s not invading my vagina so I knew I needed to do something. I yelled
“Hey! Stop! Stop right there!”
He turns around, he seems stressed, like he was heading somewhere important. I didn’t care.
“I have a poem for you”
He stops, his nameless and faceless friend stops too. I take out the book and recite my sexy seduction poem, licking my lips every so often so he knows I can moisten up if needed (it is the desert after all). He laughs. I ask him
“How do you spell your name? Is it an H? is it a K?”
“It’s actually an X” He laughs at his own bad joke. He stares into my eyes.
“I have to go” and he’s gone.
Oh heavens! oh sweet sweet nectar of the sexy gods, I did it. I fucking did it. He’s in, He’s SO IN. I can feel the delusion sink in, but I don’t care. Delusion is part of the game, and I am vagina deep into this mother fucker.
So off into my fantasy world I ride, glowing with anticipation. What do I do now? I have to send this postcard. I have to send the postcard and write my address on it with a picture of my tent and a sign that gives really clear instructions on how I want him to be found in said tent. I am not a psychopathic creeper. I am not.
On the postcard to “Xaque,” the way I decided to spell his name after he refused to tell me if he was an “h” or a “k,” I wrote the sexy poem, I drew my tent so he could find it, I gave him my address (playa and real). Hey who knows, maybe this sexual experience was meant to be had in a less dusty environment. I took the postcard and went to find the post office. There’s a post office they said, its at 3 o’ clock!
Well it’s somewhere, so I get on an art car, a real old timey old fashioned grandma is in the back cookin’ up an apple pie and Jimmy is shooting rocks in the back yard. Actually I think it was a western themed car. They gave me whisky, I told them I was a madam. Finally we had enough of each other, and there was no tumble weeds around to truly bring me back in time so I hopped off. Where? Who knows. Fuck it. I don’t need direction, I just need my soul.
So I wander, looking for that office of post. I find three older men, they’re sitting, watching the city before them. They look so peaceful. I run up to them and ask “Hey… do you know where the post office is?” They look at me in shock. I ruined all their peacefulness. “Um… well… I hate to break it to you, but you’re here.” All of the sudden I see I’m standing next to a giant mailbox. Like a 12ft mailbox with a red flag on the top. I couldn’t tell if I was a genius or just plain stupid. But hey I made it, I told them my story, I told them it all.
“So you know… we don’t technically start until tomorrow” they say.
“That’s fine, I’m in no rush,” However, the universe had a different plan for me. All of the sudden a spunky young man named Kevin rolls up to the post office
“Is this the post office?!”
“Yes” we all reply.
“So I can come and help you guys deliver mail right?” Kevin squeeks
“You want to deliver something right now?” The old men have my back!
And off Kevin goes, into the wild, with my sexy postcard for Xaque. And I breath, because I know I’ll probably never see him again, and that’s okay because I’m learning to roll with the punches and enjoy the moment… or something.
Just keep pedaling, just keep pedaling.
I guess I still had him on the mind, the whole day I wondered if he was going to drop by my camp. Eventually it was night, and it was time to explore. And off we went into the illuminated neon alien planet we called home. There was a lot to see, a lot to do, you could never see the same thing twice, everything was moving very very fast. And then in the distance… a skate park! A full blown skateboarder ramp park with all these hot sk8r bois showing off their moves.
I used to skate in middle school — rather, I used to ride a skateboard on the west side highway past the skatepark and pretend like I wasn’t noticing all the boys woo at me — I was cool. ANYWAY, I’m getting excited, the little girl in me is ready to experience that kind of male attention again. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do a ramp, but if I was… I’d be the coolest bitch there ever was. In the distance a young lad is fed up with his skateboard.
“Does anyone want this? I’m done!” He yells to the crowd.
I give it a moment and then push through the people “ME ME ME!! I DO!”
I run up to the ramp, grab the skateboard from this kids hands, look to my left, look to my right…
It’s Xaque. Standing next to me in all his splendor.
“Woah… no way” I spew out.
“You skate?” He’s feeling it.
“Uh.. Yeah” I’m lying.
“Cool” Really feeling it.
“Did you get my post card?” I have to know.
“Oh yeah” The postal system works!
I get up on the ramp, look down, this isn’t going to work. Oh well. As the nose of my skateboard stays suspended in the air and I dive forward I realize that there is no way I’m landing this, not in these shoes, not with this skateboard. CRASH. CRASH. CRASH. On the ground.
Next try. CRASH. Run right back up. CRASH. WIPE OUT. CRASH. I fucking crashed just running up the half-pipe and slamming my shin on the edge. I was a mess, I was a sputtering, spinning, running, high off adrenaline and psychopathic love mess. My friends were saying… LETS GO. And I said… no. I keep looking for Xaque, hoping he’d take me away.
A dust storm.
And all of a sudden the wind blows the dust away and I see Xaque and a beautiful girl sitting on the tallest ramp, kissing. Angels. They looked so in love and I was feeling that love. It was like taken straight out of a 1950’s movie where they were the bad kids and I was the nerd who was falling for the boy, but kept breaking her glasses and getting food stuck on her braces. But I love that movie! I stared at them for a while in admiration and then proceeded to wipe out 10 more times just to prove to myself that I wasn’t there for him… Because technically I wasn’t. I was there for the hot sk8r bois.
Not all stories have a “happy” ending… but this one “does.” Because Xaque was just a metaphor and clearly I had many lessons to learn. Just keep pedaling and love the bruises… oh the bruises. I gave my skateboard to Salty Nips and called it a night.
Back at camp, I layed in the big dome knowing that now it was time to fucking heal… heal the wounds and heal my heart…. My vagina was untouched (unfortunately). All of the sudden a flying wolf who can also spit fire walked into the dome. When he came to lay with me, I barely knew his name. All I knew was that he wanted to heal too… so he brought me a bandana to wrap my hand in, and I wrote his wish in my book. He touched my hand so sweetly, he looked into my soul… Here we go again.