By Ria Greiff
My necklace is broke, my cuff is bent, my rib is fractured, and my spirit is bereft. Welcome to the post-holiday season in the Default World.
True to GroundScore form, I managed to receive over the course of three shifts:
• A custom-made Black Rock City t-shirt
• The honor to be within five feet of Elon Musk and Larry Page
• An airplane ride
• Pickle juice martinis at the airport bar
• Really neat laptop stickers
• The responsibility to direct airplanes onto the Playa
Now onto what I will be doing this year. I love my Heebeegeebee Healers camp. But do they love me back? It is so hard to tell when you are a chronic wanderer. You need to wander so you blame those around you for not liking you enough and venture out to find a new tribe. You find the next one, think you’ve found Nirvana until you realize that not everything is that fucking great and wander off again. And again and again and again. Perhaps why I keep finding shit. I am always roving.
Not to get to insane with you right now but I wonder if I will ever find Home. At least I have for one week a year at Burning Man. This is the one place that makes sense to me. When I hear the words, “Welcome Home!” I really feel it.
For my next pilgrimage Home, I am putting my authentic self out there to you fellow Burners.
Who wants an intrepid, pretty talented, fairly sexy, writer, in their camp to hang out and then mysteriously disappear all the time? Maybe there is a cute pilot that will let me sleep in his tent under his ride.
Who knows what will happen? But the Playa always provides. This month’s task: prepare my profile for the sale. Forever from the trenches — GroundScore