So fresh, or rather not so fresh, from our trek to the Lopine, a night of spectacular electrical displays and torrential rains until one a.m. followed by steady wetting unto dawn, we made our way to the Habib in a final [and finally successful] attempt at assembling L’s shelves

wherein I as well, against all projected odds, actually finished inventory and storage of the 177 larger paintings in chronological order. Some 200 smaller pieces remain to be documented but back in July there were serious doubts as to whether even this first installment could be accomplished…

[a discovery; “Amphibian”, 60×60″, 2002]

Phew, and phew…so, after a small round of errands and paying off Terry Sandoval

for what turned out to be his excellent stucco work

we headed for the hills where Paul Bowles’ recordings rendered me predictably comatose for the remainder of the afternoon

until evening rains precluded a walk but fortunately not the barbecue; steaks with killer horseradish Muriel brought back from Nebraska…horseradish so hot that by morning even the rabbitbrush was beginning to turn

as we continued, with the everpresent [or oftenpresent] Other Dog, to visit the creek.

Meanwhile, 1100 miles to the west, this year’s Burning Hominid is shaping up as Intensely Boring

…and not entirely due to the surfeit of scoffaganda in the press; life without dust just seems, eh, less annoying…

Wednesday, yet again, off to La Veta

for a pleasant surprise;

Brendt Berger’s extremely yellow, extremely quick 283 Chevy-powered TR4…

…nice car for a ride on a perfect day otherwise dedicated to PT for the feet and home…

to check in on how they’re doing out west; l  wouldn’t go out of MY way let alone pay considerable monies to be jammed into a Bangladesh of Motorhomes like that on the desert, no matter how temporary…but humans gotta have fun, though this certainly don’t look like it.  Fun, I mean…well maybe if I blew 10K so some “stylist” could radically self-express me in bondage gear from that sex shop on South Virginia and another 11 for the helicopter shuttle to the playa…but, nyah….

We entertain ourselves instead watching Raymond Martinez commit radical treecutting by perfectly dropping a venerable but beetle-killed Ponderosa across the road right where it crosses Dry Creek,

subsequently bucking it into rounds with a little help from his 77 year old wife and various Libre members on the cleanup crew, notably Jim Fowler, logging truck shown.

Seventy-four year old logger, eighty-five foot tree, three hours of chainsaw;

 

…meanwhile, in that alternate reality, Fun! Or at least a lot of aimless bicycling and standing around…

…more fun at night, they say, but it’s not ALL just, Sex, Drugs and EDM

as it’s also proving to be a proving ground for the mega-constructs that potentially go on to mega-remunerative lives on the Las Vegas strip or at more “commercial’ [like this isn’t?] mega-festivals around the globe. A sort of portfolio review writ large, I’ve been told by those in the business, a multi-billion dollar industry of which I was utterly unaware until a casual dinner conversation last July;

Of course you have to be able to see the stuff first and this year the dust’s not cooperating; personally we’re just hoping it’s blown past Winnemucca by Wednesday…

Meanwhile, I’ll take my playa neat, minus those 60,000 people…even if “60,000 people can’t be wrong”, right?

M