Where to begin?  At the beginning? Nah, too far back.  Maybe begin a little after the start but not quite in the middle?  Like walking into a movie that already started.  Then when you watch the beginning the ending makes sense.  The ending is the best part but nobody will understand it without the back story.

Many people bearing the mud markings of earthlings hugged us goodbye.
That makes no sense.

I am a storyteller, able to tell a history from perspective, to create images in the mind with words or to simply draw a smile with my prose. I relish the finely crafted tale that conveys the wonder or passion felt by the character.  The ability to share similar sagas with others around a campfire, a table or the internet is to me like drink to a desert wanderer.

Unasked the bartender brought me another chocolate martini.
Yes that happened but it really only makes sense if you know what happened to the first bartender.

I need conflict for a great story.  Which of the great themes to choose?  Human vs. Nature?

There was a great fire that lit the night sky.
But we started that fire so it wasn’t really a force of nature so much as a natural event. Natural for us, at least. If you have a large pile of dead trees and you are cold it makes perfect sense to light it. Having a couch nearby lends itself to sitting and I’ve never met a marshmallow I didn’t want to stab with an iron spear and dangle over a fire.

Human vs. Environment?

The last cold, naked survivors huddled together and started for home.  Their guide plotting a course across the sands towards a blinking beacon on the horizon.
Well honestly it was after midnight and we were just leaving the hot springs and driving back to camp so it wasn’t that hard to follow the car in front of you.  Having the strobe light on the Tower of Barbarella was just a plus.

Human vs. Society?  Yes, where people combat the rules of their society. Rebellion!  Anarchy!  Nonconformity!  This is my theme, this is my meat and potatoes, this I shall shout from the rooftops and whisper about in dark alleys.

The law of the land was DO WHAT THOU WILL BUT DO NO HARM TO OTHERS and they did and everyone was happy.
What? Where the hell is the conflict?  Why do my eyes not water from the pepper spray?  When does the fighting start?  Where are the bruises?  Will there be chanting and drumming?

Drums? Perhaps that should provide the beat for my story?  The cadence leading to the rhythm, strumming the chords of emotion, driving home the point.  You can build a song over a drumbeat as easily as making the Billboard top 40.

The drum beat it’s message thru the night.  Sending a call out like a ripple on the air, thrumming the blood in our veins and the rock underneath our feet.  The drunk and the drugged drummed and we danced.  We safety danced.
Well it was more like a bluesy, jazzy outro-tempo kind of thing with some great vocals, belted out by the sexy woman who was your elementary school music teacher. Meanwhile the Hollywood high school drug pusher challenged your mind to postulate the things he whispered into the mic as counter point to the crescendo.  Their name was Orphan in the Afterlife and it was refreshing to listen to live music that wasn’t trying to copy something else.  Trying to fit into some mold.  At times they simply made joyful noise and everyone got caught in its whirlwind.  But I’m not sure I saw anyone break into the safety dance.

Maybe I should just play it safe and talk about a subject I am more knowledgeable about.  20 years working in kitchens should provide me with enough resources to write a review.

The food was delicious.  The new, larger grill easily handled chicken for forty people and the addition of black olives in the eggplant Parmesan was colorful.  Having vegetarian beans and whole grain bread was a pleasant surprise for discerning guests.  Breakfast French toast and coffee could have been made better with the inclusion of bacon.
BACON makes everything better.  I actually witnessed someone make a veggie dog wrapped in bacon so I know this to be true.  Since the artists at The Hive Gallery in Los Angeles had never visited they didn’t know what to expect and had brought some little things to cook themselves. We thanked them for donating them to our pantry.  They thanked us by doing some amazing art.

I’m sorry I just can’t seem to find the words to express the story of this weekend.  Maybe everyone was right when they said “This is a moment.” and we are going to just have to ride the roller-coaster and see where it sends us.  If  I haven’t blown your mind by now then you obviously didn’t get one of the brownies.