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Personally, this time I'm wearing a tinfoil hat with a solar-powered black helicopter on it; a Darth Burner costume--if Vader had been to the playa maybe he indies wouldn't have been such an asshole; a bathrobe (camp name is Zaphod. Bathrobes and tea cups are mandatory); a toga and gold olive wreath, 'cause the Romans understood the glory of freeballing; nothing; my wife's Little Black Dress, a hot pink indies cowboy hat and combat boots. That oughtta cover it. Oh, and a leather gladiator skirt thingie that looks like a utilikilt, 'cause even in indies the middle of bumfuck nowhere, leather rocks. Ask Mad Max. Bring everything you need to survive in the desert for X+2 amount of days, including sunscreen AND a warm change of clothes. You must endure heat, dust and catharsis. You will find joy if you allow yourself to do so. If you let your guard down, joy (and catharsis) will find you. Of course it will hurt; ultimately, you have to leave it all behind and return to the fucking world, which is more like visiting and returning from Heaven than, say, Disneyland.
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