Video + + + + +
FILM PREVIEW "FEAR"
part I of badbadbad, a documentary film,
in its entirety
MUSIC VIDEO "You Have to Get Naked to Be Clothed in the Lord"
Writers w/ Drinks
"You Have to Get Naked to Be Clothed in the Lord"
on the Brain
LitQuake Dirtier in the Alley "It Started with a Hamburger..."
Anger Management Reborn
Quiet Lightning Lucky Strike #7 "Peace, Love & Understanding at First Church of the Church Before Church"
It started with a hamburger. Whopper, large fries, Diet Coke. No, something with more meat. A political
exchange, at the bus stop outside Piggly Wiggly.
“You’re a fan,” I said, pointing at her badge, The President Is the Commander-in-Chief. It was pinned
at quarter-thigh where the denim fringe of her Daisy Dukes peeked out like tendrils. This girl was live.
“The president know what good for us,” she said and I believed her. I gazed at her belly ring, a simple
hoop, fake gold, then down to the button fly, unbuttoned, her candy cane triangle below. “We should
trust every decision he make. He know right from wrong.”
“I’ll take your word,” I said. “Me, I’m not much into politics.”
“Me neither,” she whispered. “This for work.”
I zoomed in on the red-white stripes of her two-piece. “You’re a lifeguard.”
She poked me in the chest. “Yeah right.”
“Life’s a beach,” I said.
She had never been to the beach, if we’re to believe what she told me, and I don’t see why we
shouldn’t. I talked big on my full tank of gas, tried to persuade her to get her feet wet. She insisted
she was on the clock.
“You could call it training,” I said. She stared at me with anime eyes. “I’ll drown and you save me.”
“Shut up,” she said, taking my hand in hers.
I was fortune’s son.
Now there’s French fries in her teeth, between her lips, glossed with orange, outlined black like her eyes,
and her hair, streaked with fire strands, midnight at the oasis. She glanced up at me, switched the radio
to Nelly, rocked her blouse off her shoulder, mocha cream, silk with sweat, pink glitter. Her top too big
for her size, I expected she’d tumble out at the next speed bump. I punched the pedal, stopped short at
a crosswalk, apologized for the rock ‘n’ roll.
She grinned, digging her fingers into the bag, peeling wax paper from the meat. Her nails were long,
slick with swirls. Sparkly letters spelled R-O-Y-A-L on each hand. She bit into the burger with a
girlish eyeroll. Her appetite was man-size, her cheeks chipmunked. I’d never before seen such freckles.
She was a saint who didn’t know it, hadn’t yet answered the call. A superhero at nineteen, she tagged
herself a whore. “I’m just a ho,” she said.
So naïve, out of practice, I didn’t realize, didn’t let myself know. I pegged her for a bop, that’s all. She
was at the bus stop, had never been to the beach. She said she was hungry. At least I could feed her.
About the Author Jesús Ángel García is a San Francisco writer, musician and filmmaker. His fiction and non-fiction have
been published widely. He contributes the column, "Beyond Books," to
Electric Literature’s The Outlet, and performs songs from the soundtrack
to his debut novel, "badbadbad," in a string trio
called Three Times Bad. About badbadbad
When his wife inexplicably flees from home with their infant son, Jesús Ángel García struggles to redefine himself by being of service on both sides of the Southern cultural divide. By day, he works as the humble, God-fearing webmaster for First Church of the Church Before Church. At night, he plays the part of sexual messiah on fallenangels, an online social network for extreme desires. Blinded by righteousness, obsession and identity confusion, Jesús refuses to change his path even as it leads to the greatest of sins.
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FEAR (part I of badbadbad, a documentary film)
From June 2010 to May 2011, Jesús Ángel García took badbadbad to the streets, asking people from coast to coast for their personal take on the book’s central themes of fear, hypocrisy, e-intimacy, sexual morality and self-destruction v. redemption. These candid interviews yielded nearly 80 gigabytes of raw footage, edited by García into a five-part, feature-length documentary film, which San Francisco Chronicle called “shocking for its revelation that technology somehow encourages us to be more intimate than we otherwise would be.” In a review of the first screening of the FEAR and SELF DESTRUCTION segments at the badbadbad SF launch party, Litseen’s Evan Karp wrote: “It occurred to me that we all witnessed The Truth together & that this type of occasion can change the way we communicate with one another.” The film was re-edited in early 2012 to include new footage and is currently under consideration at several film festivals around the country.
"You Have to Get Naked to Be Clothed in the Lord" (music video & opening burlesque scene from SF launch party, starring Bettie Page, Blaze Starr, Mamie Van Doren, Tempest Storm & Ann Margaret)
"You Have to Get Naked to Be Clothed in the Lord"
(or "How I Learned to Stop Worrying & Love the Reverend's Wife")
+ + + Original Soundtrack (6-song sampler from the full-length album) CHECK OUT NEW STRING TRIO VERSIONS OF THESE SONGS HERE!
1. No More No Less
There are so many hurtin'
I could be the one
To bring the healin'
That we all deserve
And if it takes all of me
I could be undone
It's who I am
No more, no less, no more
2. In Love with the Reverend's Wife
Good Charlotte's Texas with big eyes
Frosted hair, the Reverend's wife
Cheeks flushed, her smile bright
Cross upon her breast
3. You Have to Get Naked to Be Clothed in theLord
Paul said to the Romans: "Strip off the old man,
and put on the new one." You have to get naked
to be clothed in the Lord. No shame in change,
in Jesus name...
4. Kaddisha Lemonade
Found a girl in the truck bed
Her name Kaddisha Lemonade
Dog eat dog, girl's gotta do
She talked like she'd been bled
5. Bed o' Cornbread Crumbs
She placed sushi on her denim dress.
She said, Get right down there in front.
I said, Oh my, I'm gonna give you a kiss.
She said, Thank you. Come come come...