To the one who pulled me from the ashes of Inland Empire cultural rubble, to the one who I swim naked with, to the one who taught me how to dig up Truth and then how to smash it apart and redistribute it, to the one that taught me that dancing has no rules and needs no catalyst, to the one that fostered my narcissism, to the one I work best with, to the one who I think of at all times when facing my fears, to the one who I edit and drink in shifts with, to the one who eats all the worker’s bananas unapologetically, to the one who I have whiskey-fueled belt fights in ghost towns with, to the one who never tells me it can’t be done.

To the only one who said what needed to be said despite the fact I did not listen, to the one who I stabbed with a safety pin and rolled into Xibalba, to the one who has floated with me in the waters of 3 countries. To the one who puts demons to work, to the one who sees irony in everything and enjoys it all regardless. To the one I Burn with, now and forever, whether or not there is a Burn.

Your rebirth just a few decades ago signaled the beginning of an era which would leave the world changed. When you found me meditating in that Palapa 7 years ago, there was a further glitch in the matrix, a little Ohm slipped into the 0s and 1s. And when our ashes blow together into the wind and tangle themselves up in rotting grapefruit peels, broken ceramics and dog shit and sink into the earth to become somebody else’s midden porn, memories of our love and work will fuel the next rebirth cycle.

Happy birthday to the one who is all things, my father, my brother, my guru and my colleague. My love for you, on the anniversary of your return to earth, is boundless.