geardrops [blog]

I spent the weekend at the Union Hotel in Los Alamos, attending Mme Cavalaxis’ most splendid Ceasfire Tea and Croquet.

That is a picture of myself and Boy, clearly playing chess.

The croquet quickly descended into speed croquet, and I do believe I won, it matters not what anyone else says. I spent a good portion of the night mixing concoctions and running up to people saying “Taste what I have made!” which caused fear in some people. Understandable.

Jen: Are you drinking out of…beakers?

me: Flasks.

Jen: Pardon me.

The bar setup was quite a splendid thing, and I will attempt to post a picture of it, should I find one. Flasks, beakers, test tubes, graduated cylinders, all sorts of chemistry cookware for the ardent mixologist. And there was elderberry liqueur.

It was really wonderful seeing old friends and making new ones. I hope to do something like this again, soon.

(Images flagrantly stolen from Mme Cavalaxis’ flickr)

The main event of my Saturday — weekend in general, really — was attending Crucible’s Fire Arts Festival.

Just so you understand, this was the drive I took, having to pick up Kat in San Francisco.

Pro tip: If your friend says she is somewhere near Fisherman’s Wharf (let’s say, for funsies, Pier 39), tell her to start walking in the opposite direction and you will meet her there.

Pro tip two: Taylor and California is steep. Burnout here is likely, and absolutely terrifying when the car behind you is riding your ass. Seriously, guy in the Mercedes. My tires are spinning and screaming, and you think, “I shall come closer, this Civic looks like it’s handling the 60-degree angle well.” I really wish natural selection worked.

Pro tip three: There is a Kinko’s open relatively late on Geary and Stanyan, should you forget to print out your tickets.

On the way, Kat related a story to me about having seen from her window, a man in a tophat, speaking, “But there was no one there to talk to,” and pulling things out of the walls, “But there was nothing in the walls to pull out.” I asked if he was insane or a magician. After all, he had a tophat, so that might make you wonder.

“Well, he didn’t really act like a magician,” Kat said. “But if he was insane, then how did he get the tophat?”

Solely by the aid of our toy phones, we were able to get to the fairgrounds. Oakland has the market cornered on large, open spaces. The line to enter the festival was obscenely long, but once we got inside, the place was large enough not to seem overly packed.

The shows were really entertaining. I observed them from a distance as we walked and stared at art. There was the giant Mouse Trap making another appearance. My splurge purchase of the evening was a lovely staff from Trick Concepts, and they were kind enough to let me experiment with many of the staves before I came to my choice (5′3″, 3oz weight on either end).

Then Amanda Palmer played, and she was fabulous as ever, and she and Neil Gaiman signed books and both persisted in being fabulous. During the concert, Kat and I nosed our way to the front, and found two others who were as big fans as we were. If you were at the show, we were the obnoxious people singing near the front.

I’d have to say the highlight of Amanda’s set was the soulful cover of Michael Jackson’s Billy Jean, accompanied by an interpretive dance revolving primarily around the Napoleon Dynamite dance as performed by a pregnant cheerleader. That’s rather tough to beat.

After the show, we spotted our co-singers again, whom we officially met as David and Lynlee. Holding our spot in the signing line, I guided Kat to them by shouting, “Right in front of you, I swear to god, she’s right– You just passed her. Turn around. Turn around. Okay. No, you just passed her again.” They took the BART in. I volunteered taking them back, as they live in SOMA and well it wasn’t that far out of my way. Plus I got to see Lynlee get her rack signed by Amanda Palmer in shiny gold paint.

I said, “Tomorrow you’re going to wake up, hung over, asking ‘Why do I have gold paint on my boobs?’”

“If I had a nickel for every time I’ve had to ask that question…”

I thought the end of the evening would be marked by the four of us singing Dresden Dolls over the Bay Bridge. Which was lovely. But it was not.

I thought perhaps it would be marked by being in a fancy-digs SOMA residence with the classic Devo hat introducing them to the Polysics. Not that either.

Then I thought it would be on the way back home, when I saw a shitty little car — think if a Ford Pinto and an old Volkswagen Rabbit had a baby, and let’s just say it had a face only a mother could love — with police lights duct-taped to the top of the car. Part of me wishes I was kidding. Most of me is glad I’m not.

But no, it was finally concluded by the man backpacking the 101S-680N interchange. Backpacking. Shit you not.

So I don’t really have, er, pictures, or video, or anything to share on this front. But my weekend was fire-tastic.

I mentioned in a previous post how to eat fire. Well, this weekend, I learned how to breathe fire. I was considering doing a similar post for fire breathing, but you know what? This shit is dangerous. I’ve played with many things on fire. I’ve witnessed other play-with-fire stuff. I’ve put fire into my mouth and had fire coming out of my mouth, and you know what? Fire breathing is a lot of fire.

Holy shit, it’s a lot of fire.

And while I’ve no problem describing what I’ve actually done, what fuels should be used, torch construction, et cetera… this isn’t something I’d feel comfortable describing for others to read. Of all the fire-related stunts out there, this one’s really dangerous. I mean, really dangerous. And someone could get stupid enough to use this information.

The thing with other fire performance stuff — for instance, staff, fans, poi — is the worst damage you can do is burn your skin. Say you’re spinning poi and the chain wraps around your arm and gives you a burn. That’s pretty bad. We’re talking second-degree, maybe third, you are certainly going to the hospital for this one. But say you’re eating fire and you breathe in. Your lungs are singed and you may have to be on a respirator. That’s loads worse. Fire breathing? On top of it all, you could swallow the fuel, burn your face, someone else… too many variables.

But now my arsenal has expanded to fire staff and fire fans. I’m looking to buy a staff (eventually I will make my own but for starters I want to buy, because I need to make sure it’s properly balanced and made from the correct materials).

I buy my fire stuff from Renegade Juggling and Fire Mecca.

In continuing my quest to run away to the circus — because I plan everything, even the spontaneous shit — I’ve signed up for a fire-breathing class at The Crucible to go along with the fire-eating skills I’ve already developed. Next step is to pull together an outfit and perform on street corners. I wonder what zoning laws have to say about that.

On Saturday I tried a new trick with fire-eating. The trick was to hold a lit torch between my teeth and light another torch off it. I burned the roof of my mouth. It’s better now.

This weekend was spent at The Crucible learning how to eat fire. Photos are hopefully coming, but as I was without camera, I am now without pictures to share. Friends are on it, but they are lax in their duties.

To start, if you’re ever thinking of taking a class at The Crucible, I recommend it. Great environment, solid staff, friendly crowd. Make it happen. My course was a Saturday/Sunday deal, two hours each day. The best part about this whole experience: I was afraid of fire.

This post is primarily fun facts about eating fire, aimed less at teaching you how to do it more to inform and/or spark interest.

Get it? Spark?

One.

Don’t fucking do it.

If you’ve never done it, and don’t have someone nearby who knows how to do it and what they’re doing, don’t fucking do it. You can hurt yourself and burn your house down and nobody will be to blame but your stupid ass.

I write good disclaimers.

Two.

There’s no trick to it. You put fire into your mouth.

Sometimes people talk about a “cold flame.” They say there’s a trick. Fire eaters coat their mouths with some film to protect it. You’re not actually putting for-reals fire into your mouth.

These are lies. A pack of them. Fire eating is a stunt, and you can hurt yourself. I burnt the inside of my mouth while trying to do this. I burnt my lip. I burnt my hands. And it hurt. Not for too long (the pain was gone that day) but this was because I was paying far too much attention to let the fire sit on me for very long.

Oh, and if you ever find a “cold flame” please tell me. Seriously, that shit is hot.

Three.

It’s all about the fuel.

I knew this on an intuitive level, but it’s very different on a practical level. We used three kinds of fuel: isopropyl alcohol, white gas, and lamp oil. Well, technically, we only used the first two. The third existed but we didn’t go there, nor would I have really cared to.

The first fuel, isopropyl alcohol, burns at a cooler temperature, has a dimmer flame, and doesn’t ignite as quickly. This is a good fuel to start with, to get comfortable with putting stuff that is on fire near your face.

The second, white gas, is very volatile by comparison. It ignites quickly, and fumes easily, allowing you to transfer the flame. I would tap the torch on my palm and hold fire in my hand before closing my hand to smother it. (With a flourish. Always with a flourish.) If you put a fiery torch soaked in white gas in your mouth, you can have a flame left behind in your mouth after you pull out the torch. This is called dragon breath, apparently, and if you are good and quick, you can use this fire to light an extinguished torch. It’s quite cool to see.

Four.

Show no fear.

The first thing you want to do is get comfortable with the flame. Light your torch and hold it in your hand. Feel the heat of the flame. Pass your hand over the flame, under it, through it. Tap your hands with the fire. Practice your breathing and hold the fire near your face, as if you’re moving to extinguish it, to get the feel of it. See how close you can get the fire to your mouth before you feel the urge to pull it out.

Oh, yes. That’s What She Said jokes aplenty.

If you already have a tendency towards disregard for your personal safety and the safety of others, then perhaps a little fear is good. But in my case, I had to just bite down and do it. And by the end of the day I was doing dragon breath.

So now, if this engineer thing doesn’t work out, I can run away to the circus.