I've recently ended a 3 plus year relationship. It was easy to pinpoint the reasons why, hard to figure out why it ended so abruptly ...


I've recently ended a 3 plus year relationship. It was easy to pinpoint the reasons why, hard to figure out why it ended so abruptly ended. A Friday conversation, asking why we suddenly were different to each other. Calling a bluff. Then living in the guest room. Hotel next.

New apartment, new furnishings, new life.

The break up isn't really what I want to talk about. The emotions there are roller coaster off the tracks. Good days, bad days, really bad days, less really bad days.

Very, very good days.

I want to talk about starting over. And not with material belongs. I'm filling up an apartment with new furniture, that's just the math of a break up. I want to talk about the emotional starting over.

A new relationship.

Gross, starting all over again.

The best analogy I can voice is that of an 100,000 word essay. One you've been writing for over 3 years. You've done hundred of hours of research. You've nailed the introductions. Put your heart into the thesis statement. Hours and hours of proofing. Nailed the supporting specific points and developed a full body paragraph all about your life.

And right in the middle of it, the power shuts off, document lost.

You realized you never saved it. You didn't need to. I mean, what were the odds of this just vanishing without a trace? This was going to be on your screen forever.

And now it's lost.

So you lean back in your chair and wonder if you have the energy, and the heart, to start all over. Do you have the emotional bandwidth to do all this again? From the first word on. All those hours spent typing away.

Or do you take an Incomplete and fail the course.

So there's the question I just have yet to find the answer for. And I'm guessing there isn't a course that's going to help me with the answer either.

Stupid heart.












Each year I get in front of the camera for a client as I interview Boise State Football players. The videos air at home games on the Jum...


Each year I get in front of the camera for a client as I interview Boise State Football players. The videos air at home games on the Jumbotron. Making my giant head, morerer gianterer. Each year the players are great, a lot of fun and really help make it entertaining. Here's the first video of the season.


Sadly, the next day... the mustache was gone. 

About a decade ago I had a dream about a Tattoo. It was the skeleton of my own arm attached to a quill pen. It was writing the word SENESTRE...

About a decade ago I had a dream about a Tattoo. It was the skeleton of my own arm attached to a quill pen. It was writing the word SENESTRE. I drew it that day and set it on a shelf. 10 years later I still wanted it, and finally got it.

Skeleton and Quill Tattoo


Side note. Though I left off the word, Senestre ended up being the name of my production company.

The work was done by Idaho's Best Tattoo Artist Donna Carter

My girlfriend and I needed a quick vacation. Not an extended weekend but a whole week away from the house and exploring new things. ...




My girlfriend and I needed a quick vacation. Not an extended weekend but a whole week away from the house and exploring new things. We opened up Google Maps and pointed out every place within 1500 miles that we've wanted to see. Turns out she's never seen the Grand Canyon, neither of us had to seen the Natural Bridges in Utah. It had been 5 years since I rode the Pirates of the Caribbean and I've never seen Crater Lake.

There was a blip on the map where neither of us had ever been and that was the Meteor Crater in Arizona. It wasn't on the way to anything, it was going to add a day to our trip, but it was a giant hole in the ground caused by a giant piece of space metal. I found out this was on Emilee's bucket list. We're there.

Day one: Natural Bridges Park. We decided to spend 4 nights camping, 3 nights in hotels and two nights with friends. Thursday night was a camp night. We headed straight to Natural Bridges Park in Southeastern Utah. I knew very little about it. It was always high on the list for places for Emilee to visit. About 50 miles before hitting the parking we decided it was late and dark enough to find a campground and enter the gate in the morning. We blindly found a campsite and went to sleep. We had no idea of the beauty surrounding us when we'd wake



So that was nifty. We were all alone out in the vast red rocks. The first full day of our trip was off to a great start. I threw on a hat and drove us to the park. It was small, out of the way, and very hidden. There was only one other couple with us in the visitor center as they told us it was the busy season. We rented one of the 9 available camping spots, bought a few trinkets and headed down the road. 

We made the 9 mile looping drive and couldn't wait to journey down towards the bridges. Three of them to be precise. Named "Kachina," "Owachomo" and "Sipapu" in honor of the Native Americans 
that once made this area their home. And by that I mean until we, stupid white people, kicked them off and probably murdered a majority of them. 

It's a 9 mile hike to hit each bridge. Very, VERY worth it. And we were VERY, VERY not geared up to do it. I was wearing Vans, Emilee had her purse and a Starbucks cups and we ventured on.

Kachina
Owachomo



Sipapu


Native American ruins and standing this close to where the dinosaurs roamed was pretty fricken amazeballs.

After we headed back to camp and prepared to gaze at the stars. Natural Bridges Monument is a Dark Skies park. Because there are no cities nearby you can see stars like crazy. We light a fire and barely looked down. It was an amazing night. 

Day 3: Arizona Crater. 

Today was a special day. I only knew why. But I didn't know what was completely ahead of us. We woke up early, packed up camp and headed to Arizona to find the big-ass crater in the middle of it. The route was gorgeous. 

Emilee looks again and said "Forrest Gump!", so we pulled over and did this. 


And saw this. 


Then had a giant piece of metal came crashing to my car from oncoming traffic, that kinda almost killed me. 


We pulled the gentlemen over and after 90 minutes of calling insurance and talking to a police officer, Emilee pointed out that we might not make the crater. This wasn't an option. I mean, this was where I was going to propose. (Oh yeah, did I mention that?) I had the fake brochure made, ring was in my pocket, speech was ready. It was all set the crater. So I kicked it in to high gear... 


but stopped for a minute to check out dinosaur tracks...


and made it in time to propose. She said yes

Day 4: Now off to the Grand Canyon. 


I will tell you, if you ever get a chance to visit the Grand Canyon during a sunrise it would easily change you life a little. Do it. 

We spend a good part of the day walking the edge, learning about the area and figuring out which Dinosaur age we'd like to live in the most.

Now off to LA. 

Day 5: This was my homeland and it was hard to figure out all we'd see and who we'd visit.


Clearly Disney land was on the table, 


so Emilee could ride Space Mountain over and over. 


And the beach. 


And my super great friends and only family member I like.  Then off to San Francisco. 


Day 8: SF decided we had seen too much sun and decided to pour. 



But we got to see MORE AWESOME FRIENDS!


Day 9: After a few days of fun in the bay we decided we'd play in the giant trees. 




I really love giant trees. 


I also love driving through them. 

Last Day: We decided to spend the night just across the Oregon border and head to Crater Lake for our last stop in the morning. Emilee has always wanted to see it and so far Craters had been very, VERY good to us.  We woke up to snow. 60 miles from the lake we journeyed on. The snow got deeper but we got more determined. Finally we reached the stop. 


And, we missed it. 

So we headed East towards home. We were happy, tired, wide-eyed and not sure if missing our bed was enough for us to end our adventure. But, worked called. 


2500 miles later I was engaged to my dream girl, a little fatter, a lot happier and the proud owner of a tiny sequoia. I went to places that I thought I'd see once and be happy but we learned they are places we're going to visit over and over. 

For the rest of our stupid, happy lives. 

People steal on the internet. I'm sorry, lemme change that.  Complete assholes steal from the internet. Recently I had a few of my...

People steal on the internet.

I'm sorry, lemme change that. 

Complete assholes steal from the internet.

Recently I had a few of my Burning Man photos used for various other things. A record cover, a mock ad, a few Instagram pics claiming they were in the pics, and a shitty trash-rag called the Downtown Underground out of Las Vegas.






I reached out to the editor who claimed the author of the story submitted my photo with her work. So I quickly reached out to the author who let me know that was impossible since they never used her article. They told her "Thanks but not thanks".  I linked her to the piece and to her shock, they used it after all. It was a clear attempt to not have to pay her knowing no one would ever read their crappy magazine. They stole from her too.

I went back to the editor who told me he was shocked and would research it. I then learned their graphic artist was never paid as well. It seems everyone they came in contact with, was stiffed.

Dicks.

After I threatened legal action the asshole editor Kevin Plencner assured me he'd send me a check right away. Days went by and my initial thought that this was a lie, was true.

I called a phone number that was listed on their Facebook page. A woman answered and went on to tell me how she used to work for them but since they stopped paying her... yeah... you get the point.

People like this are the worst. Parasites who steal your creativity can die in a fire. Kevin Plencner is a failed real estate agent who after many lawsuit, and running away from Illinois to Vegas, is attempting to start another unneeded rag in Las Vegas. He's going to do it on the shoulders of people like me, never pay them a penny, and leave a wake of trash and lawsuits.

Don't be Kevin Plencner.


I spent my teens in a small town in California. It was a bit of an adjustment after my younger years in the outskirts of Los Angeles. Are...


I spent my teens in a small town in California. It was a bit of an adjustment after my younger years in the outskirts of Los Angeles. Area was smaller, buildings were smaller, dreams were smaller. It was never a fit but I always did my best.

I made good friends and cherished them for years. We had so many experiences to hold on to that we felt like our friendships would never end. For years they didn't.

We skated through our 20's hitting up each other's weddings, follow up holiday visits, weekend getaways. We'd meet up and speak entirely in memories.

We jogged through our 30's. Second weddings and scattered reunions. We'd still talk in memories mixed in with how hard it was to be a parent (we thought toddlers were as hard as it would get). We asked each other about that one friend who faded away. Wondered if anyone has managed to keep in touch with them. Eventually no one would and *POOF* they were gone.

We staggered our way in to our 40's learning that vacations were now kid based and reunions were best kept via Facebook. It was also easier. I could see their entirely family grow from the comfort of my laptop in a Starbucks.

But suddenly I saw other things too. Weird things that seemed so foreign to me. I witnessed them spending anniversaries at Red Lobster. I watched them express their excitement about TV night with Big Bang Theory. I read how they believed President Obama was a Muslim and how they knew he was sending America towards the end of the world.

And to suddenly discovered... you have absolutely nothing in common with these barbarians.

Never more than now have I ended so many friendships as I have in the last year. #ThanksObama. My best friends from high school, who I laughed and cried with for so many years, were... Republicans.

And by Republicans, I mean the hateful ones. The ones who masturbated to Fox News and formed their uneducated opinions from inaccurate Memes. The ones who'd kill the person who came for their guns and would personally offer bricks from their homes to help build a wall. Full on horrific people. The people I've been fighting against my whole life. I just never realized it was them. I was blinded by friendship.

This has been the year of fighting them. This week one of my best friends from high school, I mean... BEST FRIENDS... ridiculed me for participating in the #WomansMarch. He said that if I spent that time building a house for the homeless I'd be doing more good. I reminded him that he did neither and just harassed those who tried. His response was to unfriend me on Facebook. 30some years of friendship gone, because we realized at that moment we no longer had anything in common.

I'll remind you that I went to school in California before I try to explain that a classmate with a confederate flag for his profile picture trolled every status I wrote for a week reminding me what a horrible person I was for supporting Hillary. I could write about my Dog and he'd tell me Hillary was the devil. I wished him a happy birthday and he told me how great Trump was. I had to block him on all social media as if we were 13 year old girls due to his inability to have any interaction without reminding me how much he valued a man who had no values.

Yesterday a guy who graduated a few years after I had posted a fake news article detailing how Muslims were beheading thousands all over the globe. I commented how the article was fake and he was doing more damage than good spreading unwarranted fear. But, he didn't care. He was more concerned that it COULD happen and was angry I was calling him out. This was followed by a barrage of his right-wing friends attacking me for being a bleeding-heart liberal (I proudly am) and used insults on me until they felt they won the debate. You can't argue with hate.

A girl who found God sometime after graduation spent all Facebook posts on her love for Jesus and Starbucks. The glory of this and the yummy of that. Jesus loves everyone, except for the Muslim that Obama nominated to be a Federal Judge. Suddenly our courts were going to be covered with tainted blood and our society was ending. When I asked her why this was such a bad thing I was reminded that Jesus would not do this. Apparently I knew more about Jesus than she did.

Earlier this week a school mate, who I once admired, offered to fist fight me because I said we should stand up against Trump as long as we could. For this he wanted to hit me. I asked him why and he responded he was 100% happy with Trump. He couldn't give specifics other than he was going to support his candidate no matter what happens.

"I could stand in the middle of 5th Avenue and shoot somebody and I wouldn't lose voters." - Trump. 

Those voters, it turns out, are the people I grew up with. The last year, an election year, has caused me to end over 20 friendships via social media. Alumni trolls who pop on to talk fake facts and harass me for having alternate opinions. Getting upset when I correct their logic and debating in pure memes. If I didn't drink from the same Koolaid from them, I was a terrorist and I hated American.

I love America so it's that reason why my heart hurts so much.

My childhood friends are almost all gone. I kept some, the good ones. They are just as passionate as I am about our future. They are educated and caring... and scared. So very scared.

I hold on to these people tightly. Tighter than I ever have before. Because through each other we can get through this. Together we can protect ourselves from the hate-filled people we once called our friends in a country we used to call home.

Via social media, people have been telling me to "get over it" after a skewed election of Donald Trump and Mike Pence. You mig...



Via social media, people have been telling me to "get over it" after a skewed election of Donald Trump and Mike Pence. You might be okay with a Giant Orange Turd and a Gay Basher from the 1950s being elected, but I'm not. And here's why.

You might be okay with a guy who has singled out every Mexican as murderers and Rapists, or every Muslim as a terrorist and has decided to rid them from our nation. But I'm not.

You might be okay with a guy who has spent untold tax dollars trying to cut all rights to the LGBTQ community and believing you can pretty much "pray the gay away" (adapt or die). But I'm not.

You might be okay with a guy who publicly mocked a reporter with a disability just because he disagreed with Trump's assessment of a story he had written. But I'm not.

You might be okay with a guy who holds women in such poor regards that he publicly discusses how he can have his way with them in a manner most of us would deem sexual assault. Then others he can publicly call "pigs", "dogs," "slobs" and "disgusting animals" when they call him out. But I'm not.

You might be okay with a guy who believes the Earth is 6000 years old, denies evolution and wants nothing more than the combination of church and state. But I'm not.

You might be okay with a guy who inherited his wealth from a father who inherited his money from his Nazi loving father. Yet today most of his money comes by way of his celebrity, not his business "smarts". Has filed bankruptcy multiple times and has left a trail of failed endeavors. Leaving several workers unpaid. But I'm not.

You might be okay with a guy who has more than a dozen women claiming sexual assault, even a 13 year old girl who was going to take him to court over rape charges until she backed out due to death threats. But I'm not.

You might be okay with a guy who a guy who looks at nuclear weapons as a source of turmoil resolution. But I'm not.

You might be okay with a guy who has Russia on speed dial. But I'm not.

You might be okay with a guy who said “Laziness is a trait in the blacks… Black guys counting my money! I hate it.”. But I'm not.

You might be okay with a guy who said “He’s not a war hero. He’s a war hero because he was captured. I like people that weren’t captured, OK, I hate to tell you.”. But I'm not.

You might be okay with a guy who is looking to coal as a solution while saying “The concept of global warming was created by and for the Chinese in order to make U.S. manufacturing non-competitive.”. But I'm not.

You might be okay with a guy who marries attractive women, only interested in his wealth, as he cheats on them... leaves them and marries another. Washes hands... repeats. But I'm not.

You might be okay with a giant orange turd and a homophobic ass muncher running our country. But I'm not.

If you've been in the Western States, there's a good chance you've heard of Dutch Bros' Coffee. They are blue and white ...


If you've been in the Western States, there's a good chance you've heard of Dutch Bros' Coffee. They are blue and white drive thru locations scattered around parking lots and empty fields next to Del Tacos near you.

They sell coffee in many little fluffy flavors crafted by a 20-somethings who have been give a fairly direct job description.

DRY HUMP YOUR CUSTOMERS, GIVE THEM COFFEE

To be blunt, it's pretty gross. Not the coffee, but the process of getting the coffee. Backtracking, I love coffee. I drink it most of the day. Wait, I FUCKING LOVE COFFEE. It's the best, Jerry... the best. I also love treating myself to super gooey $5 coffees from various locations. I give in often to corporate assbaggery by heading to Starbucks on the weekend. Often with our Newfoundland Tonka in tow who gets ooh'd and awe'd by the moderately professional employees who look just as uncomfortable small-talking me as I am returning it.

When I drive to work, I don't pass a Starbucks, I pass a Dutch Bros. The Starbucks adds another mile to my commute. But when I need a caffeinated beverage for the road, I take that trek. Because I just can't stomach the weirdness of getting a Dutch Bros coffee.

I'll cut to the awkward chase. It's starts simple, you pick one of the drive-thrus and approach. You're alerted by the latest Justin Bieber song blasting from their little building. You assume the barista knows the driver of the car in front of them by the amount of interaction going on. In most part, the barista is hanging out the building almost falling through the driver's window. She laughs, loud enough to almost block out the bieb... almost.

You finally get up to the window and a young girl, wearing very little, pours out of the window.

"HI!"

"Hi."

"Are you having a great morning?"

You aren't sure exactly what she said due to the loud music combined with the gaggle of other baristas dancing and screaming giggles at each other.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I asked if you're having a great morning"

Replaying the 2 hours of it in my head. "Yeah."

"That's great! So great! What can I get you?"

It's an awkward interaction. To the point where you think Chris Hanson is going to pop up and start asking you questions.

She verbally throws your order to another over-animated employee then turns to you.

"So what are you doing today?"

"Just going to work."

"Oh great! What do you do?"

"I work in advertising"

"Oh that's so much fun. What do you advertise?"

"Oh, well. Quite a few things. One of our clients is..."

She interrupted by a fellow employee who wanted to let her know 'their' song is on, and they all start dancing.

She returns "So doing anything fun today?"

"No. Nothing at all"

"That sounds like fun!"

She resumes dancing and says something about liking my car. I now pretend I have to check my phone. I start to text my girlfriend, reminding her I love her because I feel like there's a weird line being crossed. Like, I'll strip for Mocha.

I feel dirty. Please just give me my coffee.

"Here's your drink!"

I quickly grab it, placing my car in drive as I do. But then there's that weird smell. The smell of... flesh. Flesh burning off the palm of my hand.

"Mother of God! It's scorching hot! Do you have a sleeve?"

"Nope."

"Ummm, okay. But it's super hot."

"We can double cup it."

Double cup? Add to the demise of the environment more than I already am? Help kill a baby dolphin?

Ugh, I can't do that? Can I? Should I just be more of a man? Deal with the pain like my Father would have?

"Sure, double cup it."

I place my coffee in my cup holder and I drive away. I feel dirty, used, a few other emotions I'm not used to. I not only feel bad, but I feel bad for the people who work there. It's clear that it's part of their job description. MAKE THE MIDDLE AGED GUY FEEL PRETTY. They don't like it anymore than I do. They can't hand me a coffee and think "I hope he saw how interested I was in him. I'm never like that with other customers. Maybe we'll get married someday!"

See, the whole process is just gross. It's a company who asks their employees to dry hump their customers to increase sales. Why? Who does this? After a little research I found a bit of the reason in this thinking. I learned their CEO, Travis Boersma, is a 40something year old guy who wears his baseball cap backwards.

The type of guy who goes into a Hooters and thinks every waitress was hitting on him.

So now, 3 years after going to my first Dutch Bros, I occasionally run across their card with 8 stamps on it hiding in my center console. I don't throw it away "just in case" but deep down I don't see me getting my free coffee from them anytime soon.

I'd rather have my awkward smalltalk from Starbucks.


I've started filming my next film, and it's all filmy. So there's that. #mythhumpers


I've started filming my next film, and it's all filmy.

So there's that.

#mythhumpers

Pretty much one year today we started filming Ghostumentary, and now... it's online. It was a debate what to do with it. We sent it ...


Pretty much one year today we started filming Ghostumentary, and now... it's online. It was a debate what to do with it. We sent it out to a couple of the bigger Film Festivals, each one giving us the nicest letter saying "We love it, we don't know what to do with it."

Then we talked to a few distribution companies but each really wanted to limit an audience and roll the dice in specific markets. 

We came to the conclusion that we really wanted as many eyes as possible on it. So, let's just put it online. 

So, here it is. 

First, it's on Amazon. So if you're looking to rent something... here you go. 




First off, you're going to hate reading this post as much as I hate writing it. It's because my favorite character in the Star Wa...


First off, you're going to hate reading this post as much as I hate writing it. It's because my favorite character in the Star Wars universe had ALWAYS been Boba Fett. It was my favorite toy growing up. I used to write personal fan-fiction stories about him as well and hide them under my bed so my brothers wouldn't find them a ridicule me.

I've always kept a close eye on him through life. I sat a little taller when he came on the screen. He was my guy. So this is why it was so painful to notice a few things over the years that made me realize that he may be the worse character in the Star Wars story itself.

Here's why.

Let's talk about when we first see Boba Fett (before Lucas screwed up on the second round of edits). He's on board Darth Vader's ship among other Bounty Hunters. Oh wait... no... not true. He actually was first seen animated in the dreaded Star Wars Holiday Special.


He rides a dinosaur, but basically verbally and physically abuses them. Not cool man, not cool. When he's discovered to be bad, he runs away from a group of unarmed rebels. 

So NOW we're back on the Empire. He has one job, get Han Solo by the orders of Darth Vader. But wait, he already had this job for Jabba the Hutt. So now we have a guy who's double dipping bounty rewards. What a dick. Right? 

Mark... set... go... he's off to find them. How does he do this? He hangs out in the garbage. Seems creepy but, alright. Han and the gang take off, he follows quietly all the way to Bespin. Boba is known as one of the galaxy's deadliest bounty hunters, and he proves is by calling for back up when he gets to Cloud City. Instead of getting Han alone, he alerts the Empire to do it for him. Essentially only qualifying for a finders fee. But who am I to butt in. 

Side note, how did the Empire beat Han to Bespin? Did anyone do the math there? This leads me to my next theory where Lobot is Snoke... don't get me started. 

So, Darth Vader captures everyone, Boba watches and in return gets to take off with Han for a very undeserved reward. Boba is like that one guy at your job that watches everyone work, then takes all the credit. 

We enter the next episode and we're in Jabba's lair. Essentially it's hanging out in a friend's basement because he has all the pot. Boba thrives. He walks around in his Mandalorian armor talking to alien chicks about his days of glory. Mandalorian armor that if you look at, really doesn't fit him very well. It's like the first time you wear your dad's jacket and your hands don't poke through the sleeves. What does he weigh? A buck twenty five?

Leia sneaks in and is in disguise, threatens everyone and Boba gives a nod. Essentially saying "I appreciate you not talking off your helmet, so I don't have to either."

Can you imaging the musk in there? It's like hot-sick dug up from a musty-stump at Endor. 

Now we're in the desert, still latched on to Jabba in a desperate attempt to be accepted, rides bitch on the barge. All hell breaks loose and bam...

Fett gets rammed from behind and finds his jet pack has activated. So here's where I really find him to be a little bitch. Have you never flown with it before? I mean, your dad fought off Obi-Wan Kenobi with it, you act as if you just found a spider in your sock drawer. You scream like a 3 year old girl and land in the sarlacc pit. To die a thousand deaths or something bitchy. 


At least your Dad battling Jedi, you fell prey to a pothole in the sand. 

So, with a heavy-heart I spew out the thought that Boba Fett was truly the worst character in the Star Wars Universe. 

Let your anger flow through your comments. 

The final score is being put in place, but why wait to see a chunk. Right? Here's 9 minutes from our investigation in Gooding, Idaho...



The final score is being put in place, but why wait to see a chunk. Right? Here's 9 minutes from our investigation in Gooding, Idaho.

Check it out and stuff.

So 2015 was a very good year. I fell even more in love, I grew closer to my kids, made a film ( Ghostumentary ),  and I went to my first ...


So 2015 was a very good year. I fell even more in love, I grew closer to my kids, made a film (Ghostumentary),  and I went to my first Burning Man.  
Though it was my first, it was Emilee's 5th. So I had a little insight. Also, many of our friends have been going for years, so gobs of info was thrown my way. 

We were joining a successful camp who took me in like a lost, but loved cat. 

The drive was what I expected, a lot of time in a car slowly driving by Navajo Taco stands. 

A lot of dust, few radio stations. 

Giddy level:10

We get to camp and set up. Tent missing parts, shelter as well. I turned up my Macgyver a went to town. Success.


Bikes, so many bikes. We spent the next few days on our bikes riding around and taking in all the art. All the people. 


And all the boobs. 




 


There was an excessive amount of nudity. That perhaps makes me sounds like a prude. By no means am I. I mean, Holy Cats! I LOVE nudity. I love boobs. I think most people do. And beyond the sea of 55 year old penises I had seen (seriously, I saw a gaggle of naked men on bikes) I had seen so many boobs that I couldn't see anymore. 

Imagine eating your favorite cookie from a giant tub. How many cookies do you eat until you can't eat anymore cookies. 

Cookies = Boobs. 



Prior to leaving one of my coworkers said "you're going to be high the whole time". I asked him why he believed this. He said it was because that's what people did there. One of the giant misnomers people have about the event. Beyond our morning mimosas, it was one of the most soberishly fun times of my life. It seemed to be that way for most people I surrounded myself with. 




Our camp hosted a full-size Hungry, Hungry Hippo event. Popular enough that a Business Insider covered it. Afterwards, a good friend slipped something in my hand. It was a mint. But not just any mint. 

I was just given acid. 

I placed it in my pocket and journeyed out into the deep playa with Emilee to take pictures of her in her wing. 


The wings were amazing. She had them specially made for Burning Man. You couldn't walk by someone with out a compliment. People taking pictures of her. She looked so beautiful. As usual, no one even knew I was there. 


I took a crazy amount of photos. Each one was amazing. I posted a few on Instagram only to see them immediately stolen. It's the internet, it happens. But one girl actually claimed the photos where her. 

A few of them went viral and were picked up by the Daily Mail, Huffington Post, Mashable, etc. Her ass almost broke the internet.

Walking back from the shoot, I switched lenses in my pocket a few times and must have pulled out the acid that was lingering there. Lost somewhere in our path. 

I literally "dropped acid at Burning Man".


The basics of my adventure was this. There are so many good people out there. Far more than you have remembered. I hugged people, I gave things away, I was given even more. I watched people smile, laugh and love. I didn't see people fight. I didn't see people indulge. I didn't see people sad or lonely. 

I saw people at their best. I was at my best as well. 

I'm going back again someday. Once probably wasn't enough for me. But before you judge the event and the people who go, I truly believe you should go yourself. 

You'll see the bright side of humanity again, and have a little more hope.