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The entire group was due to gather and
begin considerably earlier than I was able to join them, but my experiences
of the day would certainly not have been the same had I not been on the
beginning part of the adventure with dear sweet dragon daud. The two of
us had to obtain the silver (sleigh) from the far reaching northern suburbs,
which in itself took a short eternity. bolstered by herbal libations,
we braved suburban chill and thrill, and dealt with a flat tire, a messy
interior, a frozen engine, and the myriad trips into and out of town as
we forgot certain items, needed to get costumed, were unable to obtain
the correct service at certain places, yadda yadda yadda. finally, well
after dark, in fabulaous array, the tire was fixed, the truckstop near
stapleton was TrANSfixed, and the evenings adverntures began for us. We
travelled endlessly to littleton, to the funplex kidzone iduunnowhatitscalled
suburban yupstock gathering place, where we met a plethora of santas enrapt
in a bowling match, with the most unorthodox bowling techniques.
not wanting to get too terribly interrupting, having been rather late,
dragon daud and I hit the bar then the skating rink where we made horrifying
attempts at skating in the run by teenage nazis deejayed by terenage tone
deaf white, white, white rythmless highschool goons and geeks roller rink.
I never realized how very in a rut roller skating music is, and I never
would have thought that one might be subjected to quite so many rules
while skating: no going backwards (while britney spears wails) no going
the wrong direction (while n'sync moans) no wearing hats and wigs (while
christina aguilera does her best to promote hispanic sounds while doing
her best to look as white as britney) no chewing gum or smoking (while
britney gets another boob job). what fun! we finally turned in the skates
and headed upstairs when it became apparent that the teenage gestapo would
no longet tolerate any more breakings of ze rulez! (vee haf veys of making
you obey!!)
heading back to the remaining santa contigent, we joined them in a lobby,
where the beginings of gathering seemed to be going on. we encountered
still more opposition from the renta cop faction, as we were reprimaned
for the distribution of maimed and anatomically altered or at least evident
toys to children. we even had to deal with severe admonishment for allegedly
handinhg out candy cane flavoured condoms. most of this is captured once
and for all on video tape. ah for posterirty... ah for posteriors!! HEY
DID I SAY THAT????
leaving the not so funplex in confusion and wonderment, we gathered the
troops into the silver sleigh and the borrored school van, and headed
off for what felt like a daytrtip all night to the Paper Tiger, a western
southern suburban non corporate and not glitzy tittie bar. being among
the first to arrive, I noticed that had we not gone in, the population
of that bar would have been, oh, about two plus the staff. a toothless
hag with a sweet dispostion brought everyone double rounds of watered
down liquor deluged in far too much mixer, the collective of each pair
coming nearly close to having one of MY famous drinks worth of alcohol
in them!! we all watched as the santas trickled in and the two stipper
gals writhed and contorted for our pleasure or at least our dollars.
demure they were not: one of them had thick rimmed glasses on, maybe affecting
the naughty librarian look, and displayed fabulous saddlebags, and less
than adept gyrations. I noticed her tips suffered fopr her lack of seductive
ability. The other gal, much better, had a personality, could dance, but
too bad, was as ugly as the day is long. but even her ankles twisting
seemed to excite the fellow who was in the bar before we got htere, and
stayed fascinated till after we left. we spent a few drinks worth of time
there, and finally headed out.
I'm not sure, as the buzz is getting stronger, if we went elsewhere first,
but i have a distinct recollection of pulling up in front of charlies,
the gay cowboy bar I work at. I do remember insisting that we go there,
and I rememberr too the HORROR I felt when the sliver sleigh was the cause
for this gut wrenching tearing ripping whining sound, and I realised that
we had hit a tree.... I buried my face into the playadusty cushion, and
begged someone to tell me we were not at charlied, worried about getting
in trouble for the broken tree outside. oh, indeed, we were there, and
a great portion of the santa contingent had already disembarked the silver
sleigh and had begun dancing and hooting and hollering about the torn
off limb of one of the trees outside my work. I tried to protest, and
to perhaps move the party onward, to a place I would not be in trouble,
but thirst got the best of even my intentions, and I went in with the
rest, greeted by a confused staff of my coworkers, who just didnt know
what to do with twenty plus santas drunk out of our minds, coming in,
shouting, dancing, drink drink drinking, and having far too merry a christmas.
for the first time in my entire life I was denied service of alcohol for
being over intoxicated !!! MISSION ACCOMPLISED!
after last call, we all attempted to get into amsterdam, the after hours
techno club, whose name had might just as well be struck from any future
itneraries, as for two years running the good times were kept at bay by
their only just post teenage nazi run door staff. I can't really remember
much else after all that. I understand I was a drunken and obnoxious santa
for the rest of the night, bad santa, no cookie, but my recollection from
there is less than a blur across a page.
sometime after that, I in my kerchief, and smeone in a cap settled in
for a short wintery nap. A cacophonous time was had by all. What a blast...
outside the snow was falling and santas were calling YOOO HOOO can't wait
to do it again......
pictures of Santa can be found HERE
While Ms.Terious was away playing with cute Parisian boys, Miss Mouse rounded up the Santa's and represented for the very 1st City Park West Association Arts Festival, headed by our very own MonkeyGal.
The Auraria Cacophonist are the educational branch of caco currently at UCD and looking to expand to include all of the schools on the Auraria campus. School clubs get federal funding but $$$$ is tight. (Colorado is 49th in the country for school funding don't' you know.) You see the school clubs had run out of money for the spring 2001 season and we were left to fend for ourselves. We decided to do our part and make some money for Danger Rangers visit at the End of June
thereby - making money for Danger Rangers visit and showing that the Auraria Cacophonists weren't just a bunch of ner do wells scamming the system.
We've got heart and We can make things happen.
20 some odd Santa's did their part by donning some portion of the suit and selling Xmas ornaments made with their very own hands, goodies baked with love inside, photos with Santa and snow cones. The snow cones were the biggest hit. (note to self - find effective but cheap ass snow cone machine)
As always Santa was loved and hated. Small children were frightened, some small minded adults were agasht but the CPWA was happy and as usual we made an impression.
Golly there are sooooo many magical moments in the day but got to say the stand out was the magic of the S posse doing the snow dance.
Mid may, bright shinning and down right hot one moment but a little Santa magic and Taaaa Daaaahhh, SNOW.
by Samantha Tanner
Deep in my heart, I harbor a heartburning hatred toward ice, snow and temperatures below 70º Simply put, I despise winter.
For months now, I have anticipated experiencing the spirit of the playa metamorphosed into a magical weekend in the mountains redolent of the spirit of Colorado;yet, I simultaneously questioned my own sanity due to my dread of winter and everything related to it.
However, despite my misgivings
concerning the weather, something in my soul was compelled to make the
trek to the Nederland and fully experience Freezing Man '01, however artic-worthy
the temperatures. Sometimes the gods are generous and bestow upon us more
than our fair share of magical moments. Freezing Man '01 was a weekend
overflowing with mystical moments wherein I caught more than brief glimpses
into the beauty of ultimate
reality.
Fifty or more of the most wonderful, wacky and weird residents of Colorado gathered for a paradoxically earthy and ethereal experience. Freezing Man was much more than merely a great party. Virtually every individual arrived with an open heart and an open mind, desirous of participating with all others in the discovery of unknown possibilities. The beauty of the land was stunning and at times, overwhelming as the white moonlight reflected off the mountain peaks on the horizon, the flickering orange glow of fires dotted ones view and the snow crystals glittered in the moonlight as they gently fell to earth, lending to the magic of the gathering was an array of amazing art - body art, costumes, art installations, fire and performance art and musical art.
Despite the difficulty of costumery
in frigid temperatures, many people decorated themselves in a variety of
unexpected and interesting ways. Almost every person was adorned in one
way or another - face and body paint, glitter, sequins, fuzziness of some
sort or the simple beauty of naked flesh. One person built a beautiful blue
tower that radiated color, light and beauty even though it was to be a tower
of ice and the tepid temperatures precluded the possibility of ice sculpture.
Four hollow orbs of string hung in the trees, reflecting blacklight and
moonlight, reminiscent perhaps of hanging snow-globes or full moons.
A pillar of wrapping paper was consumed by fire, a colorful spectrum of
flames dancing in gleeful liberation. Across Paul's house and through the
trees, strings of lights twinkled brilliantly. When snow began to fall after
midnight, the icy crystals caught the glow of the moon and the lights, sparkling
as they floated toward the ground, like hundreds of thousands of flecks
of crystalline glitter falling from the sky. An art-bike decorated
the porch, providing many opportunities for laughter as pedalers tried
to raise the giant hand attached to the bike that reached out over the
porch. The fire and poi spinners thrilled us with their skill. I was
mesmerized by the fire spinning, caught up in it to the point where I
was not aware than anything existed outside of the dazzling circles and
trails created by the fire dancing through the air. In the morning, I
rested to the haunting melody a woman played on her violin - a score that
had chosen to reveal itself to her in a dream the previous night. Whether
standing on the porch of Paul's house and looking across the land or standing
away from the house and looking back toward the art and the beautiful
people the land so elegantly hosted, I realized my fear of the temperature
was silly, for I felt a warm glow deep in my gut that radiated throughout
me as I gazed upon a picture of the very real beauty for which this world
has potential.
The crowning achievement of this magical experience was not the objects
with which we were surrounded or the unexpectedly warmish air temperature
or the number of people who attended. Rather, the greatness of Freezing
Man '01 was measured by the caliber of the souls at the event. Those
who came were fully present, yearning to completely give of themselves,
willing to reach beyond themselves and perceive more, to become more aware,
wiser, beautiful and greater people as a result of their experiences with
others. Old friendships developed even deeper meaning and new friendships
grew out of complete strangers practicing mayhem, mischief and misadventure
together (how can you not become friends after stuffing your sinus passages
full of Pop Rocks and hydrogen peroxide with someone who was previously
a "stranger" to you?)
As I had anticipated attending Freezing Man, I looked forward to a break
from reality. At the end of the weekend, on the drive through the mountains
back to Denver, I realized that I was not returning to the "real world"
or my "real life". What I had experienced in the mountains at Freezing
Man (quite similarly to the experience of Burning Man) is reality. The
respect, admiration, love and trust of one another among the people there
is what is real. The collective creativity and end products of a number
of imaginations coming together is reality.
This morning, as I write this, I sit in my office and look around me,
I see nothing but suits which support pseudo-life-like beings, people
who move through life like automatons, thinking they are living but who
are really experiencing little more than the side-effects of not having
died yet. Through the flickering of artificial fluorescent lamplight,
I see nothing but prefabricated furniture and dismal cubicles surrounding
me. Outside are towers of steel and glass that have been built by hundreds
of nameless faces for use by thousands of people who never consider the
creative process involving the structure of these buildings in which they
spend an enormous part of their lives. It amazes me that this is what
many people consider "reality". I close my eyes, remembering the tribal
beats of drums and records that accompanied our hours in the woods, the
fires, art, beautiful spirits and supernatural environment of Freezing
Man and I am grateful for the opportunity to have -- yet
My connection to Denver Cacophony comes by way of Ms. Terious , whom I met on the playa (where else?). I'm also a former resident of The World's Largest Cowtown, a longtime friend of the ever-lovely Ms. Julie Noelle Chase,and I have family in Colorado Springs - yes, Colorado Springs.
So anyways, I was in Colorado for the holidays and Ms. Terious conned me into attending Santa Con part deux. As it happens, my friend and New York City instigatorJeff Stark was paying his holiday dues in Littleton, and of course he wanted to come along too. Of course. After some cellular phone tag, Jeff and I met up w/ the Santa Con-ers at Holiday Bowl on West Colfax, a fine gathering place for the good people of Denver if I've ever seen one.
Jeff and I had the great fortune of arriving early, where Jeff, already in Santa garb, made quite the initial impression on the natives. Far be it from me to judge people by their acceptance of someone wearing a costume in a traditionally non-costume-appropriate setting - but I do. And these people failed the jaded urban sophisticate test, although they did score nicely on the shameless laugh-out-loud-at-the-freaks meter, which I suppose is better than sullen stares. Eventually the rest of the Santa Con crew arrived and much good cheer was had by all.
I'll just briefly share a few moments that brought me great tidings of joy:
1) During karaoke and I should add that Holiday Bowl's inclusion of both bowling *and* karaoke makes it a choice site for Saturday night socializing - Jeff employed the ingenious strategy of winning over the hearts and minds of clearly disturbed rednecks by asking of their girlfriends, Naughty or Nice?, then distributing condoms no matter their reply.
2) Dancing. Lots of dancing. Lots of talent-free, inebriated, embarassing dancing by hipsters in Santa suits. You can't beat that for entertainment value.
3) During authentic country songs (yes, there is such a thing) sung w/ great seriousness by the aforementioned rednecks, Jeff dropped to the floor arena-rock style at climactic moments. Repeatedly.
4) Y-M-C-A.
5) A singalong of the official Santa Con song, You Better Watch Out (You Better Watch Out, You Better Watch Out, You Better Watch Out), led to our removal from the premises, although it was closing time. But just imagine it wasn't.
6) And I'm contractually obligated to mention, I was provided a costume free-of-charge by my fellow SCers, to whom I owe a great debt of gratitude. Thanks in particular for the sofa cushion-lining gut, which was nothing if not comfortable and appealing to the ladies.
On with the evening.
After a fun-filled drive downtown behind the infamous Pyrot bus (my compliments to the decorator) we attempted to gain entry - to cut in line - at two OH-so-hip after-hours dance clubs. At one, and I HAVE to share this, we were told by a stone-faced bouncer that bribes might help.
OK, look: Imagine you're a club employee trying *desperately* to promote a sense of New York City atmosphere, of clubbiness with a capital C, at your Denver nightclub. So you set up a velvet rope. Only instead of highly stylish people in highly stylish surroundings, what you have is a bunch of clones and teenagers milling about shivering in a gravel parking lot. When suddenly, to your great amusement - amusement if you have a PULSE - a bunch of drunken Santas show up chanting "Santa's on the list! Santa's on the list!"
Do you
a) welcome them w/ open arms and a hearty ho-ho-ho,
b) explain politely that they're welcome inside, but must wait in line w/ everybody else, or
c) stare sullenly?
If you answered C, then you must be that asshole at the club.
But let us not end on a note so contrary to the spirit of the season. At club number two, we were rejected in much more amusing fashion, by a group who responded to Jeff's attempts to lead them in a chant of Ho! Ho! Ho! with a chorus of Dork! Dork! Dork! Must you laugh at yourself sometimes? Indeed you must. The evening finally ended, in due 5am course, w/ nude group hot-tubbing, which is much more shiny-new-bike than lump-of-coal ... don't you think?
In all non-seriousness, my thanks to Ms. Terious and my fellow Santas for a truly enchanting Xmas eve.
Viva Cacophony!