The Epic Tale of the Time I didnt go to Burning Man
How I got arrested at the U.S. border, turned 30 in jail, and learned to love the juggalos
(This is an old column which I wrote for the D.I.Y. punk magazine MAXIMUM ROCK N ROLL. It tells the story of this photo.)
I just got out of jail. I was in there for a month. I was writing a lot. That reminded me that I want to write for the purpose of self-expression more. I mostly write political shit. Then I got out and got a couple issues of MAXIMUM ROCK'N'ROLL and remembered that I'd wanted to start writing a column awhile back. Seems like now's a good time to start. So here goes. Who am I? I'm a nomadic anarchist punk from Ottawa. I spend a lot of time at blockades, and on the road in my veggie-oil powered schoolbus, known as the Mobile Resistance Unit.
My focus is on anti-extraction and indigenous sovereignty struggles. I'm a militant tree-hugger. I'm a restless, antsy, compulsive organizer who's usually pissed off at people for not doing more for the movement. My goal here's not really to write about politics here, because I already do that elsewhere, but to write my feelings about the world as I see it. That's what I like about the columns in Maximum Rock'n'Roll - the rawness, the immediacy, the honesty. My political writing is calculated and aims to persuade; here I just want to purely express whatever's in my heart and mind at a given moment. OK, enough intro. Let me tell you about jail. I'd been working a lot on my bus this summer and finally deemed it ready for a major road trip. A friend offered me a performer's ticket to Burning Man (I'm a fire juggler) and we made plans to go.
When I crossed the border into Michigan, though, I got arrested and told that I was a "fugitive from justice" and was getting extradited to Minnesota. This took me totally by surprise - I had no idea there was a warrant out for me.
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