I went down on chem trails (again)

Sept. 29, 007
Black Rock City

Sicky. Cough cough: The sound of gravel. Sweating repeatedly through the sheets as I sleep for 24 hours in a row. Shiver shiver shiver. Lung butter and nose emissions the horrifically unnatural color of a hairstylist’s polyester pants in the ‘60s.

I’m not the only one, by any means. I’ve lost my voice too so can’t really wander around and see yet if my and Russ’s intuitions are correct. But we remember this from 2002. The “monkey pox” was slightly different then — more like spewing out both ends, along with the shivering and sleeping and all — but it “feels” the same. Like they’re changing it up a little every time, just to see what happens.

It always comes when they spray the chem trails.

Everyone in the DPW got sick in 2002. Everyone — even those who never get sick. And again in a couple other cleanup years, I hear. Some go down multiple times. In 2002 we thought we’d just rapid-cycled a bug or two amongst ourselves — I mean, we live in insanely close quarters. Playa restoration for Burning Man is half labor camp and half summer camp for a bunch of hard-drinking, hard-living, forward-thinking misfits.

What freaked me out was finding in 2002 that all of Gerlach and nearby Empire had ALSO gotten sick. With the same thing.

Even on tour with Cyclecide — that’s living on a bus with a dozen dirty bike rodeo klowns for 2-3 months in a row — does “group sickness” never behave this way. Not this violently.

Before yall dismiss me, take a look at this picture and ask yourself: Is this a cloud?

Does God make Xes in the sky above a community’s head when He (of course “He,” right?) disapproves of its sinful behavior?

Do these Xes then slowly fan out to cast a disapproving glare of Heavenly sun-blocking cotton where at breakfast there was not a cloud in the sky? (Is it angel’s hair?)

This is where you say: Silly goose, you’re a paranoid survivalist freak. Commercial planes cross the Black Rock Desert all the time. With such frequency that they make humongous Xes in the sky before their con trails — relatively harmless substances the airlines dump out of their fuselages while they fly — fade away? Yep … lotsa people on their way from Sacramento to Salt Lake City. So much they criss-cross the second largest mass of flat land on Earth at least four times an hour.

Well, do they fly over this particular area of land at around 4am? All together, in FORMATION?

Let me ask you this: Don’t you think the people who control the air — that would be the people who lie to you, invade your privacy, and attack sovereign nations under false pretenses, all for their own best (monetary) interests at heart — also CONTROL THE AIR?

Chem trails don’t always have monkey pox in them. I’m not saying that. Sometimes I think they’re just cloud-seeding, and that global warming is already way worse than anyone in the government wants us to know. The best case scenario I can think of is that sometimes they release small doses of chemical-warfare liquids in order to immunize us for when everyone who hates us tries to attack. But I think that’s giving them too much credit.

My only hope is that they’re training us (part- and full-time) desert rats to morph into some sort of warrior class, resistant to disease and ready to fight when the shit hits the fan. This is a fairy tale I tell myself to counteract the fact that our current administration is only fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan because their buddies in the weapons and oil industries don’t want to lose control, don’t want to give that money to someone else, and don’t want America to turn into an anarchic, murder-happy society too close to the Mad Max series for everyone’s comfort.

Then nobody would go shopping.

—–

Yesterday, Russ and Hollis were cruising out to the hot springs when they saw a creepy, governmental-khaki, shiny-new truck with two collared-shirt dudes inside and a GIANT 20-foot antenna in the truck bed. Russ and Hollis — who are also quite aware of the unfathomably weird things that happen out here — put on their sunglasses, hoods, and game faces and sat still. The other truck, knowing they’d been spotted, pulled up and asked “Is this the way to Frog Pond?” — the same way if you’d found them broken into your house in the middle of the night and they asked “Is Mike home? Oh uh, I must have the wrong address.”

Then they accepted the directions, pulled over to Frog, didn’t go in, and quickly assed out of there and on back across the playa to the highway.

Yes, they could’ve been rocket guys or some other type of nerd. But both Russ and Hollis said that was NOT what was going on. Either those men were listening to us or they were taking readings.

Earlier that day, an enormous black military helicopter flew 40 feet above the MOOP line, across the desert floor, and back up to the airbase in Winnemucca.

Out here, you know when something doesn’t sit right. It’s not fantasy — your intuition turns up to eleven when you come to a flat space the size of Delaware with no buildings or cars or people around. You just know things, even when someone is in your face telling you the exact opposite. Ask anyone who’s ever worked setup or cleanup for Burning Man.

Intuition. Something we as humans have lost among the cacophony of modern living. Something we might should try to find ways to get back.

—–

Some locals say it’s aluminum up in there. That they’re killing us, and/or dumbing us down. I’m not sure about that … but one summed it up thusly: “The government is fucking with us. It’s like the Tuskegee Experiment all over again.”

I’m not into this sort of thing as a rule. I don’t believe many of the “conspiracy facts” my friend Jesse Wack believes. I just always want to see behind the curtain. So I look. And I see them — the chem trails — out here and back at home in the BayviewSF, and everywhere else in America I’ve been. I’ve heard the planes, seen the planes, and felt the sticky film on my van the morning after some occasions when they’ve crossed. And now I’ve personally gotten the monkey pox TWO TIMES.

Everything important I have come to believe in my time on this planet does not blindly follow people or movements or religions or books or Websites — it comes from observing and gathering empirical evidence. And maybe it is just a bug this time, but we’ll see how many people in Gerlach and Empire report to us about having the monkey pox again.

I think this is pretty important. It’s more likely to be true than not, given the other things our American government has done to its own people in the past century.

I think if you don’t think so, you should look up.