We all know this, that working hard at manual labor can release something within ourselves that is healing. I have done all the hard work in helping set up this place to be a beautiful space for people to play and fuck and get their PYL on. And that’s awesome. While setting all this up I work with a good dozen or so people that are all just out there kicking ass and taking names and just getting it done. We throw canvas, we move the things, we make it all work. We encounter problems and overcome them. We sweat. Holy hell do we sweat. We go through gallons upon gallons of water. We eat because we’re either starving or because we know our bodies need fuel, even if the heat is telling us “No, sorry, not hungry”. More salt on those eggs please. More water.
And at night, we party strong too. The last three nights have been very busy in the party department, but all within good boundaries. Things have been pretty good and hoisting a cold one with these comrades on the crew is always a highlight of the event for us. Even though we get comped into the event for 4 wicked long days of work, I’d still be happy to be on the crew and keep working beside these people. It’s inspiring to work with these folks.
And as I’m writing this, I’m thinking that I owe it to these folks to go out there and get my fucking kink on and do what it is that I do. Where the hell are my clothespins?