Hekter McElliott
aka the
Prophet, Scotty Dog & Johnny Buckskin
Founder
of HekterVision
I am a freak to myself
and that makes me giggle. My life has been driven by a giant taffy
machine and flexibility has been integrated deeply into my psyche.
Astrologically, I find myself in the house of winter as much as
possible. Crisp mountain air, cold smoke powder, the peaceful
contentment of snow falling, backcountry brotherhood, adventure,
serenity, speed, adrenaline and fulfillment are just a few reasons
behind my winter addiction. Spelling my name in the snow is just
the cherry on top.
Playa heat is my balance fulcrum point. Sweltering temperatures,
blistering storms, soft smiles, creative energy, tribal welfare,
cracked feet, cold beer, beautiful people, fine smoke, old and new
friends, flirtations, snuggles, dance, drum, rhythm all bound by
intent. Freedom fighters united, smooth groovers set loose. BM
quickly became an integral part of my year, more powerful than any
concert, more fulfilling than any deed. Creamier than any donut I
know.
My path has never been clearer than ever and I have the answer to
the collection of past moments and future events:
Hekter
Vision. Time to take my pink
wig, dj earmuffs, Yovanda my mental secretary & a small camera
crew around the festivals of the world. Wild on E!! This shit will
have to be cable or movied because I don't think Hekter Vision can
be edited and still have an ounce of meaning. All of my writing,
photography, random travels and apparent self-imposed lunacy have
been leading me down this trail... now it's a smooth groove on the
move!
Glow fur rabbit ears with built in carrot cam... Yovanda mounted to
a fleshy hand piercing loop. DJ's, Dancers, Drugs, Dilerium,
Delectable, Discombobulated, Dillusional. Art cars, prayer flags
and el-wire... trails of breadclumps, raver fishin', urinal
confessionals, human living tips... Beautiful women belly-dancing,
Moroccon misfits, disco in 10 languages....
I ain't talking no Fanny Packston bullshit here, this is the real
dank - fresh and live - boogers and all. Johnny Buckskin up to his
chaps in faux fur and fine ass.
Therefore the burn was just a catalyst for juicing my soul sauce
& mental floss. Playa lies dormant deep within my pores
awaiting the crucial moment for exuding the time release
formula.
Back to Flickrin' my Google bar over at Your Space after I pull a 5
foot You Tube and chip my Bluetooth.
If "Evolution" is truly the theme of next year's burn then can
someone figure out how to run electronics without 4 cords a piece.
Bluetooth is on the verge but seriously, these cords are really
starting to fuck with me!!
Neptune has been a blast but it's time to get serious and set up a
yurt... I don't see my treehouse ideas blossoming to
fruition.
I think my next trip is to Mercury in a metabolic landcruiser made
out of moop and belly lint. I have a feeling that is where all my
socks and pant strings have exiled to.
Maybe that is where Hekter left Scottee on the last hot lap?