Red Hot

It was our first show
the band had ever played out of town.
Up north
Payson or Flagstaff or Prescott
I can't remember
always get those northern towns mixed up.
Despite what you might think, Arizona isn't all deserts
half the state is woodlands.
We managed to fit the whole band in one car.
Dick, the bass player
Evelyn, the drummer
Monty, the guitarist
Iain, the band 'manager'
and myself, the 'singer'.
We left at sundown and after an hour of driving
night had fallen.
Just outside the northern town
the traffic came to a standstill.
A whole line of cars just stopped.
Up ahead we could see one of those big flatbed trucks
completely engulfed in flames
on the side of the road.
The long line of vehicles moved slowly ahead
one at a time.
"What the fuck is this shit?"
"They probably just wanna get a look at that flaming truck up ahead. Rubber neckin'."
The closer we got the more apparent it became
what the hold up was for.
The giant inferno that once was a truck
was shooting a long line of fire across the road.
Every thirty seconds
it would shoot out
lighting up the tall trees around us
with a yellow glow.
The flame would fly across the road
retreat back for a few seconds
giving enough time for just one car to go by
before shooting flame all over the road again.
After twenty minutes or so
it was our turn.
The flame shot out
with the windows down
you could feel the heat.
The flame retreated
and we sped past it
like Super Mario in of the castle levels.
We pulled into that small wooded town
there was smoke everywhere
smelled like a campfire
looked like a fog.
Someone said they were doing a controlled burn in the forest nearby.
Didn't make much sense to me
but it sure did look cool
felt like I was in a John Carpenter movie.
Ya know, the one with the fog.
Inside the little bar
a place called 'Sundance's'
we met up with some buddies of ours
another local band from Phoenix
The Limit Club.
We were borrowing their gear for the night
so we set up our shit onstage
as the bar began to fill up
crusty, dirty, smelly, Punks
hippie chicks with dreadlocks and sweat-stained brown clothes
a few Rockabilly couples
and just ordinary looking college kids.
Before we started the first song, I addressed the crowd,
"Now, I don't know how ya'll do things up here, but down in Phoenix, everyone comes up to the front..."
Total bullshit.
In Phoenix, most people just stood in the back, sipping their drinks.
I was just seeing if they'd go for it
and surprisingly they did.
The small crowd of fifteen to twenty people stood at the front
of the modest stage.
Song after song
more and more people started moving around.
The punks moshed and ran in circles
the dreadlocked hippie chicks skanked and danced like pixies blowing in the wind
a lone bearded guy in a windbreaker
stomped his feet and pounded his fists on his legs
bouncing all around.
Later, the bartender told me
the guy was deaf and liked the vibrations the amps & drums gave off.
Cut myself up pretty bad with the broken microphone.
Got the crowd all riled up with our local favorite
'Sheriff Joe'.
And before I knew it, we were done.
I stood outside after our set
steam risin' off of me in the cold northern air.
I stood outside talking to a girl debating whether to kiss her or not.
Ultimately decided against it.
Went back inside and spent my drink ticket on a beer
joined the other band mates
everyone was standing around
drinks in hand
in-between bands a DJ was playing
that good ole' 50's Rock'n'Roll.
The speakers boomed Billy Lee Riley's gravely voice,
'My gal is RED HOT..."
we all shouted in unison,
"YOUR GAL AIN'T DOODLY SQUAT!"
our arms around each other in a big huddle
screaming the words and spilling our drinks.
We were the rowdiest gang in there that night
yelling
laughing
cackling.
Phoenix awaited us with it's one hundred and ten degree heat
while the cool northern town
gave us a break
and showed us a damn good time.

Not About To See Your Light

Whenever I would ask too many questions
or asked the wrong kind of questions
they would take me out of the Sunday School classroom
walk me down the hall
through the double doors
and into big church
where all all the adults were.
Squeezing my hand like a vice
her walking too fast
and me just trying to move my little legs
and keep up.
She'd find my grandparents (my parents only went to church on holidays)
turn me over to them
and then I'd have to sit in boring ass big church.

My grandmother made sure
I was actively involved in church
and indoctrinated with her beliefs
from the time I was born.
She was an Evangelist Pentecostal
the most extreme form of Christianity
speaking in tongues
prophecy
spiritual 'gifts'
all that stuff.
She picked me up twice a week
Sundays and Wednesdays
from the ages of four to ten
I was in something similar to the Boy Scouts
called 'Royal Rangers'.
We did typical scout type stuff
camping, knot tying, fire starting, survival techniques.
What I remember most though
was this little fake campfire that they made
for us in our classroom within the church.
It was six logs criss crossed
with one of those lightbulbs that came to a pointed tip
painted unevenly, red, yellow, and orange.
We'd sit around that thing during prayer request time.
That was the time we made our wishes to god
what we wanted or needed him to do.
Us troubled kids
we prayed for our parents.
Us kids who's parents didn't come to church
everything they said that was a sin
our parents did.
Drink, smoke, curse, gamble, look at naked lady magazines or videos, not going to church.
That was a sin too apparently.
They had us all terrified that our parents were going to burn in hell
unless we could 'save' them.
Advising us to try and minister to our parents
get them to come to church and change their wicked ways.
That's a lot to lay on little kids.
A kid in my class, one of my friends,
he leaned over during a lesson and whispered in my ear,
"I don't wanna be an orphan in heaven, I'd rather be in hell with my family."

But to me that was nothing.
What really scared me
kept me on constant edge
was the rapture.
When angels trumpets would sound in the sky
those that were right with God would be taken up into the sky
to heaven.
They said even those in graveyards would come out of the grave
and into the sky.
The world would then be given over to Satan who
would kill all Christians and make everyone get the mark of the beast.
They showed us videos by some guy named Carmen and they talked about it incessantly.
They spoke of guillotines chopping off the heads of Christian martyrs
those that refused to take the number of the beast, 666.
They said that was the only way to get into heaven
if you were 'left behind' after the rapture had taken place
giving your life up for god, got you a one way ticket to heaven.
Our Sunday School teachers
and later our youth pastors
described the most horrific things to us
they said you wouldn't be able to
buy food, have a job, a house
nothing without getting the mark of the beast
which of course
would send your soul straight to hell when you died.
I became a paranoid, nervous wreck.
Constantly scared that the rapture would happen
like when I was at school perhaps
(they said it could happen at ANY time)
and it would be chaos on the streets
I'd never be able to find my family, if that happened
I thought.
I worried myself sick over it
throughout the day
like clockwork
asking god to forgive me of any sins I may have committed
just in case the rapture did happen.
So I could get into heaven.

At nine years old I went to my first Christian summer camp
for a week, up in the woods of northern Arizona.
I would end up going many times after that.
The first year
our camp counselor
he had this whole collection of Maglite flashlights.
All held in a fancy leather carrying case.
And he'd pull one out
start shining the light on us
us boys in our underwear
he hit a few of us in the butt with those flashlights.
The guy didn't hit me, but he hit my friend.
A poor & tough kid that came from the ghettos of Mesa
and didn't take no shit.
He called the guy a motherfucker and slugged him in the side of his fat face.
The big adult grabbed him by the back of his head and was screaming at him,
"I'm gonna call your parents! You are outta here! What's your father going to say--"
"Fuck you, bitch! I don't even have a dad!"
The man grew silent for only a few seconds, before coming back with,
"Well, your mother is---"
"Hey! But you hit him first!" One of the other boys yelled.
"Yeah, with the flashlight!" I chimed in.
He chilled out after that
and tried to apologize to my friend
but he just turned on his side away from him
softly crying to himself.

Some years later
as a young teenager in Oregon
I went to another summer camp.
Going in there most everybody, all the guys in my cabin, none of us gave a shit.
All any of us had on our minds were the girls at the camp.
Sitting through sermons about abstinence
snickering to ourselves
whispering to each other
"Fuck that. I'm losing my virginity the first chance I get."
We all agreed.
But by the second night
things took a strange and serious turn.
They were going on about the rapture
the apocalypse
the end
four nearly two hours
and they all knew exactly what they were doing.
It was basic psychology.
Scaring the fuck out of us
citing bullshit as facts
about certain prophecies that have come true
taking scripture and bending it to meet real world events.
Mentally breaking us down
minute by minute.
All my buddies that acted like they could care less
were now crying and sobbing
hands in the air
going right along.
Hell I was too.
Some were starting speaking what sounded like gibberish
repeating certain vocal patterns, but without actual words.
Gibberish.
The pastors called it their 'prayer language'
The preacher screaming
"Oh, she's speaking to the Lord, folks! That's right!"
A girl screaming at the top of her lungs
"Shiiii da da da d shiiiii do do do!"
her entire body shaking
tears pouring from her face.
Our youth pastor had a little vial of oil around his neck
he took it off and began putting it on every one's foreheads
one by one
the moment his oil dipped finger touched their heads
they would fall backwards
someone catching them
laying them on the floor
speaking frantically in tongues.
My head was spinning
at the sound of hundreds of children
all crying
some shouting
speaking in tongues
that room was so big.
They said I was next.
The youth pastor put that oil on his fingertip
as I sobbed and cried
ready for something
to feel that feeling they kept talking about
ready for my great connection with god.
But when he put that oil to my head
his assistant with his hand on my lower back
he pushed my head
his hand on my chest
"In the name of JESUS!"
They both pushed at the same time
in opposing directions
and I fell backwards
just like the others.
Only I felt nothing.
I was laid on the ground
opened my eyes and started laughing.
It was all just a big show.
A spectacle
a recruitment tool
preying on minds that weren't even properly developed yet.
But the power of suggestion is a helluva thing
ya know?

After that I stopped going to church
stopped worry about the rapture
asking god to forgive me of my sins.
Not entirely though, that last one.
No that took some time to break
I had been doing it nearly all my life.
However
when I was seventeen years-old
I just gotten my first piece of ass
and was all in love, crazy about her, would follow that girl anywhere
turns out I followed her right back into the old church routine.
Sundays and Wednesdays.
But I got sick of trying to have sex with my girlfriend
that I loved
and then when we actually did
she'd sit and cry her eyes out afterwards
saying it was a sin..
Add in the fact that I became immersed in the world
of Punk Rock at that time
and you have a recipe for enlightenment.
Freedom.
The church was just a mechanism for control
it seemed.

But really
truly
honestly
what did it for me
is the fact that in Christianity, homosexuality is a sin punishable by death.
Homosexuality is a biological fact, a law of nature, observed in every species of animal on the face of the planet.
Yes.
Gay dogs, sheep, parrots, sharks, tigers, peacocks, elephants, monkeys, and yes, humans.
And for me this is not something that can be debated or argued
these are facts.
What kind of a god would create a life that was automatically damned?

None of it adds up
and when I think back on it
it never really did.
Five years old
one of the days I got marched into big church
in that Sunday School classroom,
my hand raised, my arm dying from being up so long,
"Yes, Daniel?"
"Well...what if you lived on an island? Like way out in the middle of the ocean and you never got a chance to know about Jesus. If no missionaries ever came? Would you still go to hell?"
"...Daniel...you know........the Lord always has ways of making himself known to all his children of the earth."
"No, but....really.....what if no missionaries ever came? They wouldn't even have Bibles. How would they know about sins? Wouldn't they go to hell?"
The Sunday School teacher looked to her husband
he helped teach the class too
they had these strange looks on their faces I remember
like they were angry with me.
"Yes, they would go to hell." She said, her lips tightly pressed.
"And what if all the stories in the Bible were just stories? Like the newspapers at the store, that talk about Bigfoot. My mommy said those weren't real stories. What if that's what the Bible is and we just think it's real? How do we know?"
It was then that the lady stood up
grabbed my hand
tightened the vice
walked me down the hall
through the double doors
and into big church.
She never answered my question
so I had to find the answers myself.
Thank, Elvis I did.
Being a Presleytarian suits me much better.

Scammin' The Scammers

I had no fucking clue what I'd done with it.
Abbie and I retraced our steps
through the Golfland parking lot
looking down in the shitty yellow light.
"Why don't you try calling it? Maybe somebody found it."
I used her phone
and sure as shit, someone answered.
"Hello?" I said.
And they hung up.
"Motherfucker!"
I sent a couple texts
politely asking for my phone back.
I got no response.
Then as we drove down the freeway
getting further away from the phone
and closer to home
it hit me.
"I got an idea."
I sent another text,
'$100 reward for anyone that finds my phone.'
A minute later
I got a call back.
It was a young Mexican kid
who said they were at Bookman's
and that they'd found it in the Golfland parking lot.
I told him I'd be right there.
Before I hung up
the kid asked about the hundred dollars.
I said, yeah sure.
When we pulled up to the used bookstore
it was an entire family waiting for us
Nana, Tata, Mom, Dad, and three kids of varying ages.
I got out of the car, a folded up bill in my hand.
Holding it out, the ten year-old boy took it
and gave me back my phone.
"Thanks." I said, turning back to Abbie's car.
When began to drive away
I saw him unfold the bill
his family crowded around
and when he opened it
seeing it was only a one dollar bill
I didn't feel the least bit bad about it.
Now you might say I'm cruel
and an asshole
but hey.
I didn't have money for another phone
and it wasn't theirs to begin with
so fuck them.