Life Quilt, row 5, #2 – Costumes

This shirt, while wonderful to wear for a motorcycle ride or an OSU event (whose colors are black and orange), the memories it most brings to mind are about Halloween. My Halloween costumes often involved tee shirts.

The darkness you see isn’t dirt. Look closer and see a skull and crossbones, subliminally scarey I guess.


why? Potassium deficiency caused massive low glucose


We went to Disneyland, I got sick but kept taking my metformin which resulted in low, very low glucose, which resulted in my delusions, which resulted in being hospitalized (see hospital bracelets above), twice, and getting potassium pumped into my hand. This had happened once before as a result of eating too much soft licorice. It seems pure licorice root is a potassium depleted (diagnosis Betsy).

Adams High, 1974

Halloween at Adams High School:

I had borrowed Betsy’s kilt (mini skirt) for school. One of my students told me to keep my legs together because I was drawing flies.

Motorcycle costume (not Halloween)

The difference between motorcycle and motor scooter costume is reflective clothing and body armor.

Scottish costume

After I changed my name to McAnelly a couple years ago I began wearing clan tartans: red Ulster and McNeil.

Burning Man 2015 costumes

My costuming began with me: long hair (what there was of it) and long beard (with a curl).

And ended in my birthday suit

Which gave me my playa name, “Bare Necessities.”

Not my costumes:

Elmo bike costume

Full body tiger suit

My grandson

– small town boy


Life Quilt, square 5, Elmo

Elmo isn’t really my tee shirt, he belongs to Betsy.

The Elmo costume isn’t mine either, I just found it as I was putting my Bike Friday fold-up bike into its suitcase for transport to Burning Man 2015 in Black Rock Desert near Reno Nevada.

2015 was my year to go to Burning Man with my friends Joy and Ben in an RV we had purchased together.

But as I was getting my Bike Friday ready I remembered that I needed an “art bike”, one that was decorated or costumed and the Elmo costume fit the bill just fine.

The playa was not kind to the Bike Friday, Elmo, or any of the other things I brought. The alkali dust sticks to everything.

But I rode it everywhere and soon Elmo and I were beginning to be seen. I got the name, “Bare Necessities.”

One day as I was leaving the Semper Fuego theme camp where we were living, friends shouted, “Lloyd, look!”

And there on the street was an art car dressed as Elmo. I followed it to where it lived, only a block away and introduced my little Bike Friday Elmo to the big Art Car Elmo.

My little Elmo was so happy.

Now the Bike Friday is back in the suitcase and the Elmo costume is in the costume suitcase.

Till next time?

– Small town Boy

If you were me, what would you do?

I’m at a loss to decide

What to eat, how to quit smoking, what exercise to do, what book to read, what clothes to wear? And more…

If you were me, what would you do?

Would you eat better?

Exercise more or better?

Get a list of popular books?

And clothes, what about clothes ?

Why do we wear clothes anyway?

What are we hiding?

I think I won’t wear clothes today.

Oops, there’s someone at the door.

If you were me, what would you do?

Get dressed of course, naturally. 


Dress naturally? Hmmm…

Kilt? Shirt? Socks? Boots?

Seems unnatural to me.

If you were me would you observe cultural taboos? All of them?

Would you be embarrassed to be seen? Nude? 

Do you pull the shade/blinds when taking a shower? Quickly grab a robe or towel?

Or air dry?

 Look at yourself in the mirror?

If you feel embarrassed for others to see you? 


If I were you?

I’d seek opportunities to be without clothing.

I may, today.

– small town boy

Sitting in the dark

Daylight is gone, no longer in savings.

Darkness awaits morning and evening.

Autumn is dropping colors from maples, oaks, and other brightly dressed trees.

Leaves carpet the ground in the rain, leaf blowers shatter the silence.

And so I sit in the morning dark,

eating my raisin and walnut oatmeal, drinking my French press coffee,

sans textiles.

Nudists no longer bask in the sun,

Not here anyway, not in the  cold rainy Northwest.

They sit by the fire, do housework, dream of  sunny days to  come.

But there is purpose in the  dark.

Hibernation, quiet times, short days.

In these days, in  this darkness,

Our dreams are born.

To dream, one must rest and be quiet,

Perfect activities for the dark.

Too cold and wet,

But inspirational,

The dark caresses my skin

In my room.

– Small Town Boy

Saturday Morning Coffee

As I sit here in my all together

Sipping my Saturday morning coffee,

I remember it isn’t Saturday, but Friday.

Anyway, the Goofy mug reminds me of

Days when I had gone mad.

Suffering from flu, barfing and shitting diarrhea,

I continued taking my diabetes med, Form… something, 

Oh, now I remember, metformin,

Which lowered my blood sugar,

Which was non existant,

Which cause me no end of embarrasing behaviors,

Crying, delirious-ness, and general out-of-my-mindedness.

So I went to the hospital and  they filled me with sucrose and sent me back to the motel,

We were at Disneyland at the time.

Whereupon I took my meds again,

and again I exhibited signs of distress,

Whereupon I was returned to the hospital

and filled with pot, potassium, that is.

I had had similar experince with black licorice, 

but that’s another story.

So, why am I  telling you this?



Oh, now I remember, this story is about memory.

It is not that I  forget words, I just can’t find them.

When I  do remember, I put another word easier to remember

in the cubby where it resides,

So it can redirect me to the word I couldn’t find, e.g.


I added “California” to the cubby and then 

I wanted “Caledonia,” I found “California” which led me to “Caledonia!”

Similarly I couldn’t find “Kevin Costner,”

So I added “How much does Kevin Cost?” to be able to find “Kevin Costner.”

I also seem to  be losing the ability to multi-task,

Get distracted and forget to turn or turn the wrong way.

Or forget to pickup my grandson from Boys and Girls Club

Because I have two other grandkids in the car after Little Gym

And I  can’t find a parking place at Market of Choice because it’s Friday,

And family begins to suspect I am not to be depended upon.

So I’m sitting here sipping my Saturday (or whatever day it is) coffee,

Wondering what I am forgetting while I am sitting here in my all together.

Oh, yes, I forgot to get dressed.

IMG_3418– Small Town Boy

Holding Hands

While I was meditating

Someone I love, or am learning to,

Held my hand.

A soft caress amidst my deep nothingness;

Interlocked fingers as we join;

One finger rubbing another gently,

Opening and closing in a warm embrace.

One keeping the other warm as cold is detected in the fingers, with love.

The blood rushes to be at the site where touch is, and then returns to the body

To share this touch sensation with others who are interested: the heart, the brain, and the spirit.

All are delicately revelling in a remembered hand clasp of another, a bonding, or an unsaid pledge.

Who is with me while I’m without clothes, thought, and movement?

No one.

There’s no one here but me.

-Small town boy



i am purged

I am open

I am overthinking the next step

I am willing to ride it out

I am intending to drift.

Drifting connotes passive acceptance.

Overthinking represents hyper cognition

It feels calm to drift

What’s around the next bend?

Curiosity is aroused

Faith is required

And patience.

And you realize you are advancing

But there is peril?

No false steps here

As I drift,

But sometimes the current is swift

And treacherous, but

All that is required of me is to sit back

And wait for it.

It’s not as easy as you

Might think.

So don’t, think that is.

Other forces spin out of control

But my course is steady

My future is coming 

And I am slowly drifting into it.

Praise be.

– Small Town Boy

Playa night

Or should I say playa evening’ or ‘playa sunset?’

But my anticipation grows. 

Our (the camp) art car is ready to roll.

Flashing streams of LCD changing colors

Strip the features of the Shuttle!

Even the side engines shine in varying hues,

Controlled by an onboard computer.

We will ride in it soon and see much more of the playa.

But that is not the sum total of my anticipation.

The dust is settled and soon the wind and then the pleasure of a walk about in the neighborhood,

But there’s more: the moon!

Beautiful queen of the night,

Nothing outshines you.

Dancing is never more fun, and I need to dance

In the dark

By moonlight

In the cool desert breeze.

Lord almighty!

I haven’t met many folks, 

But the desert and I are moonlight lovers.

Small town boy

The front door

ever sat here? At the front door?

Of a new adventure? Excited? Anticipating?

Alfred Hitchcock defined anticipation like this: you’re watching the beautiful woman ascending the stairs in a dark hallway, knowing there’s a crazy man behind the door with a big butcher knife.

I used to tell

My chemistry students to anticipate the outcome of their reactions in chem lab. (Citing Alfred Hitchcock)

I’ve been headed for this door for a couple of years.

I have friends on the other side,

And my FIRST cousin.

They say it is a spiritual journey.

My spirit is ready for anything, wide open, purged and fresh. 

They say it’s transformative. Creativity abounds and my creativity awaits this experience with anticipation. (See Alfred above) since January it has been pushing to surface in my self, my emotional self, my cognitive self, my physical self, and my spiritual self. All are purged; all are open to the experience, 

behind that door.

They say it’s hot, dry, and this year bug invested. I am ready with hats, clothes, DEET, and certain filmy things I’m not at liberty to disclose.

It’s BIG: 70,000 people on the playa. I have brought my bike in a suitcase (Bike Friday) and an Elmi costume for it and lights, lots of lights.

I have a friend to go with. Ben. He is my guide and mentor on all relevant info. He found us a Big Camp to stay with.

So I guess I’m set.

Here I go.

Oh shit, there’s a five hour wait to get in.

Into Burning Man 2015

-Small Town Boy

No more meat

No meat, no processed foods, no icecream, no alchohol, no fat.

Having lost 30 lbs, all my diabetes meds, most of my hypertension meds,

Sadly I have returned to it all:  weight gain, meds, and feeling fat.

I know, I know, I felt better, happier with myself, and slim, sort of.

I don’t ask why. I don’t say “I told you so.” I don’t say “stupid, MF, shithead, fatboy,”

No I don’t say any of that, not out loud, just in my head.

And where was my head when I ate McD Big Mac, fries, and Coke?

Instead of Laughing Planet vegetarian bowl?

Where was my head at when I stopped at DQ for $5.00 burger, fries, sunday and Coke?

Why was my head ignoring the increased calories and increased fat, on my belly.

Fat Belly!

My body has a mind of its own.  My body is a BULLY and trumps my head, always.

My body wasn’t thinking of good health, it was thinking COMFORT in face of stress.

My body didn’t care, it just wanted the weight back.  It kept all the fat recepticles ready.

It thought it was starving, on a starvation diet of the head’s design to punish it.

It thought it was doing just fine, thank you very much, and didn’t need head’s interference.

My spirit, soul, whatever, has a mind of its own too.

It didn’t care what either the mind or body was doing, feeling, wanting, needing.

It was focused on a spiritual quest, getting to express itself, speaking to the Holy Spirit.

What use did it have for mere physical things? This was a holy quest.

Fat or thin, meat or potatoes, happy or sad, tired or not, it carfed little.

Until the event that brought them all together, Burning Man.

At the Portland Regional Burning Man LIFE was what was important.

The body took pleasure in itself and saw bodies of others celebrated,

Short or tall, fat or thin, male or femaile, neurotic or not,

The body was recognized as the temple of the brain and spirit.

The brain was shut off and confused, but in a good way,

soaking up all the activities of others and opening new doors.

The spirit was elated, soaring high, unassisted by proferred dope.

So upon my return I fled to the beach to seek retreat,

and take off my clothes.

I pushed my body out the door to experience first hand the breeze, the sun, the birds, the sand, the ocean.

My body felt good, sans textiles, pores open, stimulated all over, warm, cool and alive.

My body was recognized as the temple of the brain and soul.

It was open. Open for business. Open for positive change. Open to  the mind and spirit.

I pushed brain, mind, head.  Inner voice was asked to shut up.

Meditation, coloring book, drawing, poetry were its food and sustinance and energizer.

It was open. Open for business. Open to positive change. Open to the body and soul.

I pushed sprit to be, seeking looking, watching, listening, feeling and describing the result in a journal.

My spirit was glad to  be included in  this awakening and led the way

to positive change. A higher calling. A goal for the body.  Quiet for the mind.

So today all three of us returned to juicing. Returned to  feeling good. 

Knowing and doing are two different things, said the body.

Feeling and wanting are not things that should drive us daily, said the brain.

Being and thinking are not true spiritual actions, said the spirit.

But enough lecturing, let’s go eat/drink the breakfast smoothy.

I love you guys.

left overs

Small Town Boy