To add to the post below about Glow. It was indeed lame. And suspiciously well marketed. Ah yes, the art, the music…..the public library-sponsored feel of it all. Here’s my story:
After months of being cooped up in school libraries, we get pumped about Glow, the free Santa Monica beach/block party with art and music and the promise of more crazy shenanigans like a fish parade. I get all dressed up as an anime schoolgirl assassin babydoll, we pound our 40s in the car while listening to a live piano bar show on the radio. We bounce happily and giddily to the pier, glowing with alcohol and the dogged determination that This IS Our Burning Man, as we can’t go this year.
We stumble along, cram our way onto the pier towards the music, and DANCE, GOSHDARNIT!! Thing is, about 50 million other people were on also crowded around the DJ. Surely there must be a dance party on the beach! So off we go.
Off in the distance, we see people spinning glowsticks. We run as fast as we can across the sand in our steel-toed boots towards our people. We arrive in a cloud of sand just long enough to sling our not-quite-bored-but-getting-there derision on those amateurs, and we flit on off to the SWINGSET!!! The ROPES! The MONKEYBARS! After we expend some energy and calm down a bit, we realize that no one else is dressed up. There are no burners. These are not our people. This is one lame free party and we definitely got our money’s worth.
We decide to go up to the Promenade because we heard there was punch and pie in the form of more art and music. The Promenade looked like any other Saturday night. Again, I was the only fool that dressed up. We made the most, we challenged an illiterate fire and brimstone heretic with a microphone, we danced with the dancing Jews, we saw…..the Fish Parade….
In sum, it was Burning Man if no one participated. If no one was on acid back in 1997. If no one was on psychedelics every year thereafter. If your mom’s book club of 20,000 decided to go. If there were rules. If there were inhibitions. Granted, it was a city block party, but for Zeus’ sake, let’s not invite Santa Monica again.