Drive-Thru LA-- Francisco y Iago

“America I've given you all and now I'm nothing. . . America when will we end the human war? Go fuck yourself with your atom bomb. . . America when will you be angelic? . .  When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites? 1

“. . . I'm sick of your insane demands. . .  America after all it is you and I who are perfect not the next world. Your machinery is too much for me. You made me want to be a saint. . . America I used to be a communist when I was a kid and I'm not sorry. I smoke marijuana every chance I get. I sit in my house for days on end and stare at the roses in the closet. . . You should have seen me reading Marx. . .2

“I won't say the Lord's Prayer. I have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations. 3

. . . I'm addressing you. . . It occurs to me that I am America. I am talking to myself again. . .4

“I'd better consider my national resources. My national resources consist of two joints of marijuana millions of genitals an unpublishable private literature that goes 1400 miles and hour and twentyfivethousand mental institutions. . . My ambition is to be President despite the fact that I'm a Catholic. . .5

“America this is quite serious. America this is the impression I get from looking in the television set. America is this correct?”6

- Allen Ginsberg7

Jesse’s face looked troubled by his father’s diatribe. There was definitely an uncomfortable air hovering above the concrete that bordered the massive backgammon court, and it was being sustained in place by the opposing energies held in the minds of father and son.  8

“Ok Dad,” Jesse breathed out, “I thought we were Protestant anyways.  That is supposed to be what America is all about; not allowing someone else to dictate what God is. To me, God is whatever I need God to be. If I have my own version of Spirituality, that doesn’t necessarily believe in everything written in the Bible, then how can someone tell me I’m wrong? Is it their relationship with God? If not, then how can they judge me? ‘Judge not, lest ye be judged,’ I know the Bible says that.”9

“Yes it does, yes it does,” Carpenter repeated, biding time while calculating a response. “But the Bible also teaches us about God, and says that we are to share the word of God with everybody. That is every Christian’s Mission in life; that is where our word mission comes from.  We are all to share in the work of the Missionary, spreading the Gospel Truth to all. We are interested in teaching the Truth about the Lord, because if we allow it to become completely up to the believer to what God is, then people could characterize their God as a God that likes it when they kill people, or commit suicide, or any number of mortal sins. There is a true God, and there are false Gods, it is in the Bible many times; we are not to worship what we please, we are to worship the Lord Almighty.”10

“I thought we were supposed to serve the Lord?  Why is there always the obsession with worship when the examples in the Bible of zealous worship all involve icons and idols?”11

Carpenter looked over at me, sizing up my cowpoke disguise.  I was laid back in a cobalt duster that was anything but lacking of luster, a ten-thousand milliliter hat, and pink faux gator boots with skin-tight wranglers yanked over the boots, my legs, and scrotum, for what it’s worth. I figured I better disguise my voice from now on as well; figuring he couldn’t notice the break, judging how I jumped into his conversation unexpectedly.12

“Who are you?” he demanded.13

“Me, Name ’s Immanuel. But people call me Man. Sorry to butt-in on your conversation and all, but I was down at the Community Church the other day, and they were gon’ on an’ on ‘bout how ever’one’s life ‘s diff’rent, but we all serveth the Lord in the end, because he has a grand master plan all worked out and written up, well, it’s not written up, because God don’t need to write. God don’t need nothing, and they said God sure ‘s hell don’t need praise an’ worship, ‘cause if God did, then that’d mean God needed somethin’ and somethin’ that’s perfect can’t need nothin’.  So I went out there that day and had myself a bran’ new life with the Love of the Lord to brighten my day. So now, when I’m down at the liquor store at six am, I don’ blame myself, I jus’ think ‘bout God’s plan, and how maybe I’m jus’ in the express lane to Heaven.”14

I knew that would really set him off.  I thought about going on longer, but I could tell he was seconds away from at least interrupting me.  I stopped and stood back with my hands on my haunches and stuck my bottom lip out far enough for a bird to shit on it.15

“You– I don’t know who you think you are, or where you get off saying you know anything about God!” Carpenter’s voice had escalated as he finished his sentence. “Get away from us! You had no right to intrude in our private conversation!” He turned and started to walk away. “Come on Son.”16

Jesse followed him down the sidewalk and up to the door of their motel room. He looked back at me as he entered, in my silly little costume, looking like I was about to herd some dust-bunnies or something of that nature.  I was way too clean to be a cowboy, but I don’t think Carpenter even noticed.  Jesse took a good look at me, shook his head, and followed his father inside.17

I was in the lobby drinking some of the Clerk’s coffee when Carpenter’s wagon wheeled out onto the street and down towards the highway. They were headed for St. Francis, Kansas.  Carpenter had found a little Christian lodge there named the James St. James Hotel, which was listed in the international guide to Christian Pilgrimages.  They tooled down the highway through the waist high grain and head high cornfields, passing little if anything of lasting significance along the way. They pulled into the parking lot in the early evening and found a suitable space.  Carpenter got out of the car and walked into the lobby with his family close behind, still straining and stretching from the pain of sitting for absolutely too long.18

The lobby of the James St. James Hotel demanded much more attention than the shitty little motor lodge they had stayed at the night before. It was shiny and bright on the inside. All of the walls were a blistering white, almost to the point where they were the lightest, most brilliant shade of white. The floor and trim were all the same, with the ceiling painted a heavenly cerulean blue.  Carpenter walked up to the desk and rang the bell on the counter.  There were no works of scotch-tape and marker art, but behind the counter hung a giant oil on canvas work with a plaque beneath it that read “Matamoros”.  It depicted a fierce warrior dressed in all white with a broadsword raised high above his head.  He was mounted on a prissily decorated white horse.  No enemies were depicted; just the cavalier with a bright orb of eminence surrounding him and his horse.19

A tall, pale man came out to greet Carpenter.  His features were inconsequential; his name was James St. James, and he was the owner and live-in manager of the James St. James Hotel.  He opened the house registry, and looked up at Carpenter.20

“The Jameses?” he asked.21

“Yes Sir,” Carpenter answered. “Carpenter James, very nice to meet you.” He extended his hand over the counter to shake. James took his hand and shook vigorously.22

“Beautiful looking family you have coming in there Mr. James.  Well, aren’t we just a bunch of good Christians!  Your rooms are down the hall, don’t worry, you won’t need any keys.  There hasn’t been a crime in St. Francis since 1856 when an unwritten city agreement was reached, to establish St. Francis as a Christian town. Now anybody that wants to buy property here has to be of Christian descent, or nobody will sell them any property.  We’re the proof that it works just fine, a good upstanding Christian society, left to ourselves, everything works out just fine.”23

“That is amazing!” Carpenter said, “Back in Someplace things aren’t that bad, ‘cause the Lone Ranger keeps everyone in line pretty well.  We figure nobody’s perfect, but we don’t lock our doors either. But in a hotel, man that’s something. A hotel with no keys.”24

“There’s a Christian Men’s Group meeting tonight, how old is your son there? He looks old enough to come, if you’d be interested. We’re meeting right down the street at Reverend James’ house.”25

“Another James?” asked Carpenter.26

“It’s a great world out there when you can be so far from home and meet so many people just like you. Isn’t it Mr. James?”27

“By my faith, sir, it is. Thank you for your hospitality.  I’ll be sure to recommend you any time I hear about anyone coming to St. Francis, Kansas.”28

“Very well.  Dinner is served in two hours, if you’d like to turn down for a nap we’ll ring you when it’s time.”29

“Dinner?” 30

“Yes, in the main dining room. At the James St. James Hotel, included with the room is dinner and breakfast, and all of our guests gather to eat together. We figure, if they’re staying under the same roof, they might as well feel comfortable eating together.”31

“My thoughts exactly,” said Carpenter.  He extended his hand to shake James’s one more time.  A huge smile spanned his face, and he turned to find his family thoroughly uninterested and waiting for their cue to head down the hallway to their rooms.  Carpenter advised them all to thank James, and they did, and headed down the hallway and disappeared into oblivion.32

Eight hours of collective napping later, the James family arose and gathered in the hallway.  They made their way through the lobby and into the dining hall on the west side of the Hotel.  They were greeted at the door by a small, peppery man of about twenty-five.  “Right this way folks,” he said, and led them to a table in the middle of the room.  As it was, they were the only Jameses staying in the hotel that night, so they were greeted as the guests of honor.  Carpenter was given a secondo Cabernet, something from Monte Bello in Santa Cruz, California.  Not the super high end Napa, Alexander or Sonoma, but it was blessed wine, since it was emblazoned with a four millimeter tall inscription: “Santa Cruz”.33

Carpenter approved of the bottle and the meal, and the family enjoyed a good break from the Fast Food they had been eating on the way.  They talked, and Mary and the children secretly appreciated the fact that they didn’t have to do any chores in order to have a nice sit down dinner that night.  Carpenter was slightly oblivious to his family; his main preoccupation was with complimenting the waiters, sending inconsequential praises to the chefs with the passing busboys, and finally engaging James St. James in a conversation that lasted well past the load capacity of his family’s virtuosity.  Jesse got up to leave the table while Carpenter was still busy showering James with both compliments and a mist of saliva, which was the result of a heavy tongue, via the Cabernet. This was a case in causality.  Would Carpenter have been so appreciative if James had acted differently?  Maybe. Except he would have been spitting all over him, since he would have gone with a cheap Sangiovese. 34

Blood of Jupiter I thought; body of Europa. Or was it body of Ganymede?  Was this a cheap poke at Catholicism and transubstantiation?  It seemed to be something more, as soon as someone scaled Olympus, what were we to believe?  I wonder if Galileo thought he was really looking at the Gods.  Now his bastard automaton flies around our Heavens showing us what is there. Nothing of interest to us, just amazing luxscapes; visions of the past, and also of what is to come, but on a time-line that makes what we’re doing seem ridiculously inconsequential.35

Inconsequential, but only in the grand scheme.  What we have is a relatively consequential universe; in which we have the power to change everything as we know it.  In sequence, that is the theory. Whether it is the transition from one chapter to the next, the definition between one idea and another, there are lines drawn by human hands, and a sequence of causes and effects are constructed in order to explain what was previously inexplicable.  But the main flaw is this; most infer causes from effects, precisely because they can’t observe every cause simultaneously.  So there you have it, the study of cause and effect which is principally concerned with the effects, never mentioning that the causes in fact were effects in the first place.  Which brings us full circle to the construction of the present tense.36

 Now is in fact never now.  Within the time it takes to slap together an utterance, now comes and goes.  The only way you can conceive of now is if you anticipate the arrival of the present.  Some people call this planning.  Others go by prophecies, which don’t predict, they foretell.  No exact date is given; which sufficiently clears the prophet of any liability if nothing they foretell happens, assuming there will always be a future to speak of.  No matter how long the time-line, they could always say, “You never know, it could be tomorrow.” Even after all of the relevance is gone, they will claim metaphor and symbolism; neither of which can ever be completely refuted.37

There was no symbolism to Carpenter’s supper that night; he had gorged himself on red meat, with a heaping side of fried potatoes smothered in cheese and most of the bottle of wine, save a glass that Mary was allowed.  Four pounds of food and drink went into Carpenter that night, and he got up and thanked James St. James for the meal and started sauntering off towards his room with his family in the lead by a good twenty feet.38

“Don’t forget about the Men’s Group tonight,” James yelled out to Carpenter as he walked away.  Carpenter spun around with a question teeming in his expression. James anticipated and responded, “Meet me in the lobby in twenty minutes, we can walk over together. Don’t forget your Bible.”39

Twenty minutes later, Carpenter and Jesse stood side by side in the lobby, and waited for James.  He came out of the back office with a uniform on; sort of a mix of Clergyman/Mason with a bright yellow and red coat of arms on the right breast.  Across the back of the shoulders read “Matamoros” and had an embroidered picture of a cavalier below like the one hanging in the lobby behind the desk.40

“Everyone ready?” asked James.41

“Yes. Sorry we don’t have  member’s jackets,” sputted out Carpenter, half-apologizing while still wondering what “Matamoros” meant.  He figured he would wait and find out at the meeting; he didn’t want to look ignorant in front of James.42

“Hey, if you like our Group enough, maybe you can become charter members and get a jacket like this of your own, I mean, since you are true James’, we could probably get you a couple of jackets as a gift of brotherhood,” said James. “Let’s go, we don’t want to be late, now do we?”43

Carpenter and Jesse both shook their heads in assent, and the three of them walked out the door and out onto the street.  The town was spotless; a rare albino genetic experiment of sorts pushed to the limits of sanity.  It was as if everyone in the town was afflicted like the Clerk, and there prescription was to constantly make sure everything was in order.  James walked briskly, wasting little time for chit-chat on the way down to the Reverend’s house.44

James pulled back the white picket gate and gestured for Carpenter and Jesse to go through it.  They walked down the path towards the bright porch light, negotiated a few steps, and waited for James, who rapped on the door a few times.  The door cracked open, and stood there one James St. James, a nearly identical copy of the hotel proprietor bearing the same name, down to the jacket and slacks, but about ten years younger.45

“Welcome James,” he said, and they exchanged a “secret handshake” for the lack of a better name.  46

The elder James gestured to introduce us and said “here are two more James’ from Indiana.  They are on a road trip and found our name in the directory– I told you the advertising was worth the money.”47

“Well, enough with that,” said James the younger, “Welcome brethren, come inside and I’ll find you a place to sit. We’re about to get started.”48

Carpenter and Jesse fumbled the secret handshake, and went for the classical relinquishment of the ability to grab your sword.  They stepped inside the foyer and James the younger locked the door behind them. The four of them walked in a tight group through the excessive entryway, past the stool where James the younger was waiting to admit visitors that night, down to a large set of double doors. Unbeknownst to Carpenter and his Son, the doors were reinforced so that no man or man-operated battering ram could force them open. An armored tank would eventually be called when the door would be broken down by FBI agents investigating a militant group of Aryans. But that was much later, much earlier, and happening right now as well.  When I checked, James the elder was knocking on the door with no intentions of smashing it down.  Again, a copy of the two answered the door, his age exactly twixt theirs.  You know by now that his name was also James St. James and this was in fact the name that every member of the Matamoros order took upon Christening.  It was obvious enough, but now Jesse noticed before Carpenter. He found it to be quite an amazing coincidence that so many men could bear such a noble name.  Jesse didn’t say anything, since he figured he could bear it as well as I– often not saying anything is the best way to really get to know someone.  You let them feed you everything, pretending to agree the entire time, and then take from it what you will.  Of course, there are other subversive ways of stating your argument or ideas. I just don’t recommend trying to say it in person, people will forget what you have said before the sound wave stops zipping through the air at 777 miles an hour.  Jesse was glad now that he had brought a notepad. It was something his Father had required since his first year of Bible study, because he hated it when people made notes in the margins of the Holy Book.  He used to say “All of the words that belong in the Bible are already in it.”  I wondered at that moment what he thought about the parable of the Virgins.  He thought it meant to have light meant to be enlightened spiritually with what the Lord wanted us to do in life, which was to share the Bible with others in order to show them the saving grace of the Lord.  What he didn’t know is that he wasn’t living that out. He was trying to tell people what was in the Bible instead of letting them figure it out for themselves.  If it is truly timeless, and meant for ever man and woman to live by, how can it possibly need an interpreter?49

Tacked neatly to the wall inside the door was a black plaque.  Engraved neatly on it were these symbols:50

Dear God,51

Grant me the wisdom to show my brother the path to righteousness.52

Was this epistolary fiction? Or was it an invocation?  Surely an apostrophe was appropriate while discussing the Jameses fate.  It all ended with an apostrophe, the invocation of the One and the Seven Stars, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.  The meeting was about to start. The musings would have to stand and wait.53

James the elder apparently had an elder, who was in fact (or fiction) the eldest James in St. Francis.  James Eldest led the traditional recitation of the Saint James Oath of Confederacy at the beginning of the meeting. The words were mostly inconsequential prayer-based jargon mixed together ‘tilitmovespeople.  At the end they chanted in unison “We have become pious again.”  Carpenter and his Son didn’t know the oath, so they remained quiet in their chairs with Book in hand.  54

“Brothers James of the Matamoros Chapter of the Aryan Nation,” James Eldest began, “It was our Savior the Lord Jesus Christ who delivered us from the African, Arab, Asian, Indian and Jewish Kings who once oppressed our peoples.  Jesus is the King of Kings, and we are all warriors in the King’s army.  Our dedication to the elimination of heathen peoples from our great earth is our sole quest in life, and all else is done so that we may maintain our angelic level of service to our King and Savior.”55

Carpenter and Jesse had tightened their grips on their Bibles, suddenly afraid that they had gotten themselves in too deep to cut and run now.  They would have to sweat it out, basically in fear of what would be done to them if they challenged the Brothers James.  James Eldest was getting more and more excited with each bigoted lie that left his lips, and the other men were cheering him on.56

“We honor the code of the Matamoros, our Patron Saint, James of Compostela– the Moor-Slayer.  We know that God blesses his children with angelic skin and guides them towards righteousness in their minds.  We must band together, to stop the Moor from destroying our Christian-American culture.  Their excessive appetite for sex and tendency towards drug addiction shows that they are inferior!  Yet we pay our taxes to the Federal Government who tells our children they cannot pray in school!  The same taxes that go to supporting Nigger Kingdoms ruled by athletes and rap music stars!  There is one King, and that is our Savior Jesus Christ.  We can no longer sit back and let a President preside over us when it is clear what our King wants us to do.  We must each take the personal responsibility to clear this blemish from our history, to return the African, Arab, Asian, Indian and Jew to their own land, so we can live under the blanket which is the Saving Grace of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.  Our nation was once a weak lamb in a forest full of wolves and a jungle full of vipers.  We used our minds to enslave the heathens, and used their labor to build our great nation.  Now we must have a renaissance, where we depend on our own work; if we must adopt a Protestant view, then the work ethic must be the one.  Our town was built on the backs of beautiful white stallions; we have together created a Saint’s Haven in Saint Francis.  No longer will we support those who refuse to work as we do!  The poor and homeless drag us down into the dirt with them, and soon our skin will be stained just like theirs.  We must not lose the vision my brothers. We were selected to be enlightened, created different from the black and brown gorillas of the jungle.  Who would we be to let ape rule over man?  We must keep the order in society, without which we will all go back to living like animals– fornicating and– and slobbering– and we will go back to being the filthy slaves of Gyps and Moors once again.  We will not return to the control of those who worship false pagan idols– which are animals themselves!  We will worship the almighty Creator of man, our fair race of enlightened men destined to exact the will of the Creator here on earth.”57

After James the Eldest finished, the crowd of James’ jabbered like a bunch of apes.  The meeting ended with another oath of secrecy and brotherhood, and the James’ adjourned without opening a Bible once.58

Carpenter and his Son hit the picket gate in full stride, flung it open, and proceeded down the sidewalk as if Zeus had been playing darts on their glutes.  59

They reached the door of the James St. James hotel and stopped outside.  Carpenter handed his Son the keys to the car.  “Open it up and get it running.  I’ll get your mother and sister and the luggage. We’ll be out in a minute.”60

Carpenter hesitated no more, and Jesse went to get the car going.  He opened the door and sat in the driver’s seat.  He turned the key in the ignition and the car started with only a slight cough.  The cough was enough to rouse Francisco, a sixteen-year old Spanish-speaker.  He spoke English as well (not literally as well), but Francisco spoke Spanish seven days a week.61

He was sitting on the pavement with his back against the passenger door.  He grabbed his knees and swung to his feet, then looked through the window at Jesse and waved. Jesse looked out at him and instinctively waved back.  He got out of the car and they mirrored each other, leaning with both palms on the hood.  62

“What’s your name?” said Jesse.63

“Francisco,” he replied.64

“Are you from around here?” 65

“No, I’m supposed to go for Santa Fe, but I tell them in Ingles ‘Saint Francis’ and el train bring me to this place.”66

“Why are you going to Santa Fe?” Jesse asked, and somehow remembered a Spanish word “Por que?”67

“How would you say, oh, to work.  A camp.”68

“A camp?”69

“For those men who have no casa.”70

“A homeless shelter?”71

“Si, that is the word.”72

“That is wonderful. Why haven’t you left?”73

“I do not understand those.”74

“Why not go? Vamanos a Santa Fe?”75

“These mans, in Saint Francis, they call me evil one sent to burden them.  I have no more moneys for a ticket for Santa Fe.  No man will help me.  I see your car and it look new for this town.  So I hope and pray you will help me out for a ride.  I will most grateful for you.”76

“I’ll have to ask my Father. Dici con mi Papa.”77

Francisco had nothing but hope in his eyes as he stared across the hood at Jesse.  They lifted their palms from the hood which was now warm, and the car was ready to go.  Jesse ran inside leaving Francisco there with the car running.  He threw all of his clothes from the chest of drawers into his bag, and ran across the hall to the other room.  Carpenter told Mary and his daughter there was no time to explain, and that he would later.  He authorized their immediate departure, and that was that. They made their way out into the parking lot and were introduced to Francisco.  He was still standing in the same place, his hands folded in front of him and his head down with his eyes closed.  Jesse started to explain.78

“Dad, he needs a ride, and he’s going to Santa Fe, and I figured since we’re stopping in Santa Fe next, well, maybe we could take him along, you see, because he’s going to work at a homeless shelter and– ” Carpenter cut him off.79

“It’s fine Jesse. Just get in the car.  Nice to meet you Francisco, but we really must be going and we have no room as you can see– ” and then he broke down a bit, thought about what had just happened, and wondered if this was a test from God to see if he was racist or not, and that thought changed his mind.80

“Well, you’ll have to squeeze in the back.  Jesse, you’ll have to sit in the middle since you invited him.  I’m sure your sister doesn’t want to sit next to a stranger.  But just as well, I can do the act of a Saint to make up for all of the Jameses out there who are getting it all wrong.”81

And with that, they loaded the car with flesh and luggage and made tracks for Santa Fe, leaving James Saint James and Saint Francis, Kansas in the rearview mirror.82