Sunday Girl (Blondie)

Yeah, it's church time again. I just got back from mass. Being Catholic is like a heroin habit. You never quite kick it. There have been times where I have taken a break from church for extended periods. That is, only to find myself feeling like I left the house and the hair dryer was still on. Or I tried other faith services to see what they did and what they believed. I am not saying they weren't nice people, many were sincere about becoming better people. However, there was always this feeling because the service resembled the mass so much that it was like a cover of a hit song. Or there were things I could not quite get used to.

Once, I went to a church where a friend of mine was trying to become a deacon. It was a Presbyterian Church of some sort. Anyway, as I said, great people. The guest preacher was wonderful. A man who had marched with Dr. King, I could have heard this man speak all day. He spoke for almost 20 minutes, but each minute was locked and loaded with wisdom. Afterwards, we all had coffee and talked. Things were great, and then I met an associate pastor. He looked like Santa's disgruntled brother. Anyway, he said, "Hi, I was noticing you over there and couldn't help but say hi."

"Hi." I said with my coffee in hand.

"Anyway, I do private Bible studies. Here is my number if you are so interested." He took out a piece of paper and scribbled his digits on there. In a few seconds I had a revelation. The associate pastor was hitting on me! What was even worse was his wife was only three feet away! My jaw dropped open. Wasn't he supposed to be a man of God? Eh, not so much. Insert dancing girls and Charlton Heston saying in his deep voice, "Sins of the flesh."

Either way, as a Catholic our priests molest alter and choir boys. Sure, at least I was a legal adult woman so at least I could consent. Isn't not committing adultery one of the Ten Commandments? Needless to say, I never returned to that church.

Another time I went to church with another friend. It was a super, duper alternative church. It had a crazy name that I can't recall and it was inter-faith. The woman who was the pastor was an ex-Broadway actress who had a moderate amount of success. She had gone through an African American AME seminary in order to become a minister. This was of course after she had successfully kicked her alcohol and Xanax habit. My friend dragged me to this Sunday service.

We got there, and I anticipated a stand up/sit down type of thing. Instead, there were these seven women sitting in the front dressed in tribal gear. The pastor, Reverend Barbara, explained these were the Native Mothers and they were here to educate us on what true spirituality was. So each of these women got up, talked about where they were from, and said a prayer in their native language. Then they showed us a film about these women. This was like no church service I had been to ever. Now I was completely lost. The film wasn't about spirituality either. It was about how herbs could be used as alternative medicine, and modern science and doctors were killing people with cancer drugs. Additionally, after the film was over the audience was encouraged to go off any meds they were on because the FDA was evil, and holistic medicine was the only way.

I will admit modern medicine is not perfect. However, Skipper and Wendell spent most of their adult lives in school. They know a thing or two. Minutes later, after the movie ended there was a reading of some poem and some dude dressed in all black did an interpretive dance, and then this gay show choir broke out into a hymn of praise with a Broadway beat. I was completely lost as to what was going on and to what these people believed. I wasn't feeling spiritual, I was feeling like I was having a horrid acid trip. What did they believe? I think they made it up as they went. The Unitarians at least believe in the pod people.

Then the bishop of the church came forth. He is this nutty guy I know who used to work as a gay porn star/escort who's poster still hangs in adult book stores stores in Chelsea, dick in mouth. He said, "And now for the magic chant...." And then chanted in some language I did not recognize.

That was enough for me. I still want to know how he got to be bishop. Typically one has to train for that position. Not in this church though.

Of course all faiths have their drama. One of my favorite camera men is a priest in the Church of Satan. A good friend and awesome bullshit buddy, he and his porn star wife do have a true open marriage. However, Satanism has it's own drama and there is in fighting and some people use magic and others don't. But hey, at least they know what they believe, right?

So back to the present. Today I am in church praying like always, or at least trying to until something distracts me. In walks this monk who is totally gorgeous. Just about as gorgeous as the gay porn star/deacon of the alt church I went to for a minute. I mean, I wanted to throw off that robe and ravage him. Sins of the flesh. Damn, why did this have to the Catholic church instead of the Presbyterian one where my friend was trying to be a deacon? If the associate pastor would have looked like him, McYumski. He took some crazy vowel of celibacy. I thought about what cheesy pick up lines I would use. And then the bell rang. Time to stand. What a buzz kill for my sin of the flesh live and in person.

Of course I never said I was a good Catholic. This is the express mass, I am in and out in less than 40 minutes. A friend of mine who works up the street comes with her husband. Like dead beats we all kind of sit in the back. However, my church is quiet. It is off the beaten path. There is no drama. It's a nice way to start my week. As the priest was speaking, I kept wanting to go to the confessional booth with this monk and go to town. Luckily church boy wasn't there otherwise I would have just been sucked to hell for the things going through my mind.

Later, I went to the coffee shop. I saw my friend Howard who has lived this life that should be made into a movie. Howard has been an actor, filmmaker, college professor, and everything in between. Additionally, he has lived in Thailand, met militant Buddhists, and dated the daughter of William Westmoreland. Howard always sees me coming from church, and we always joke about how I am Catholic and he is Jewish, and how as a Jew he doesn't understand the Catholic need to seek sanctuary in church.

This week, Howard had a crisis. He has an on again/off again girlfriend and they operate an Air B and B together. Welcome to New York. Anyway, I relayed my monk crisis to Howard. Howard suggested I try to corrupt the monk and see how chaste he really is. This began to sound interesting. Howard also wanted to know if my church had any pretty girls, and perhaps socials. That way he could go and pick up chicks. His angle would be that while he was Jewish, he wanted to find Jesus more than ever. And maybe this would get him laid. I thought the plan was genius, and I agreed to support my friend's efforts.

Howard brought up the fact that his people killed my savior. However, I was quick to point out Jesus had a good life, ran around with hookers, made booze and food out of raw materials and had a rich absentee father that got him God status off the bat. He could handle a bad thing or two. Howard and I laughed at this. Then I felt bad for being such a jerk wad because I had done all this hard work.

Minutes later my friend Mindy strolled in. A rock 'n' roll roadie turned vet, she admitted she was doing the walk of shame from the home of a man whom she had sex with on the semi-regular. As we all began to talk, we all turned into our regular, self-centered, dick head selves. At least I did. Eh, we all did.

It reminds me of when I was a kid. We would get out of mass, and then into the car. Instantly, we began to make fun of some of the regulars in our church. My dad usually kicked it off, followed by Wendell and then me. Then my dad would try to relay it to the reading, but then would turn into a jerkoff again. My mom would insist we waited until we got home to become assholes, along with Skipper.

Alas we are human. I was a saint for five minutes until that cute monk wandered in.

Howard, this blog is for you.

Love
April

Devil Inside (INXS)

I was raised a Catholic. It is one of those things that kind of stays with you. Even folks who leave the church can't quite shake the feelings of guilt or the extreme dogma shoved down our throats. While I went to church on Sundays and was late to school on holy days of obligation, my folks were raised RC through and through. They went to Catholic schools. Kids got beat in those days. Now the church has toned down a bit. In those days they spoke Latin in school and the masses were in Latin. As a choir boy, my dad even sang in Latin. When I was a kid, sometimes he would sing it for us. He was a soloist back in the day and had a decent voice, so it was pretty. 

My dad wanted us to know the Bible. In adulthood, even among my secular friends, I know a tidbit or two that sometimes are lost on others who weren't raised so close to the church. The fact I knew Ishmael was the father of Islam got me a free cab ride once. Like many families, we had a family Bible. Everyone from several generations onward was listed in the front. 

Both my parents were raised German Catholic. My dad's family was more from Austria, and my mom's from Bavaria, the Southern part. South Germany is very Catholic by the way, as the North is Lutheran. Anyway, when the German's came to America, they opened their own churches and schools. One of their favorite tactics was to scare the hell out of the children into behaving like good citizens. So they told them frightening stories about Satan and such so they would not be sucked into that world. While my family has not spoken German for sometime, and we had representatives for America in both World Wars, the scare your children stayed with us. 

I still remember as a kid my dad tried this tactic to teach us about the devil. My dad told my sister and I this crazy story about how the devil nabbed children who looked in the mirror for too long. He would take these spoiled children, according to the story, and make them slaves in hell. Anyway, the devil made a mistake and sent his henchmen to kidnap the two little girls. They were dragged to hell and scared because there was screaming. I still remember my sister and I were freaked out because my father named the children April and Brenna. Anyway, according to the story the two little girls had faith in God. So they asked Jesus to save them. Because they had faith God sent the Archangel Michael to save them. After Michael defeated Satan the two little girls were brought to safety. I was scarred for sometime. Couldn't and wouldn't look in the mirror. My mom of course yelled at my dad because my sister and I had persistent nightmares. Needless to say there were no more two little girl stories after that. But looking back, I had to give my pop's credit. He made the whole thing an action adventure. 

As I have gotten older, I can laugh about those crazies stories my dad told. They are funny because again, they are a Bible action adventure. They are also funny because in his own twisted way he was sincerely trying to help. Truth be told though, I do believe in a God just as I believe in a devil. Before you go saying I am trying to convert you, that is just one name for the positive and negative forces in this world. Some call it good chi, bad chi I dunno. The thing is, I don't believe it is red, has a tacky pitchfork or fake horns but is alive in our present time. We humans we have many names for it.

In my travels I have met rotten people who have believed certain points of view towards others, particularly that it was okay to discriminate against certain groups, was okay. I have also encountered zealots who thought they were getting the guidance of a so called God. Oh and lump in there people who embezzled and stole without thought. Lest we not forget people who were so angry that they took it out on others. Or then there are those who used people that were unwitting for their gain. Of course I was always taught while evil is cunning and bold, it is never smart. It is always caught. The Postman always rings twice. 

I have also seen the so called devil or negative force in my professional life too. When comedians get something that others feel is owed to them, the fangs come out. The gossip about that person starts and soon the water is polluted with lies. Sometimes, the person is slandered online anonymously by their so called friends. I know because it has happened to me. It's like that green eyed monster comes out and enters the body of people. I remember taking it all so personally too. Suddenly, I was an angry victim. I was lashing out at everyone. I was ungrateful. I didn't care about being funny and suddenly was chasing the glamour of being on national television. As my ego got bigger, I covered it up with bravado to hide the fact I felt empty, alone and miserable. In feeding the negativity, I was blocking the light. I was blocking out people who wanted to see me succeed and to help me. Most importantly, I failed to see the ability to make others laugh is a gift. It is something to be shared with the world, not just for my own self gain. But it is easy to feed into. 

I have also been of course bitten by the green eyed monster in my comedy career. Yes, there have been male comedians who have bumped me because I have been a woman thus being unfairly shafted. Or there have been people who have had doors open for them based on filling a niche whether it be a look, a need for an ethnic friend, whatever. No one said show business was fair. And it is a difficult thing to see someone who is just a pretty boy move ahead because they cliqued with the right group. Or someone who doesn't work hard get a break because they were at the right place at the right time. Or worse yet, you slave for a long time and it never seems your day will come. Therefore you take it out on yourself and everyone else by being miserable. Or you get angry at someone for taking what you believe is yours. I have done all of this and more. Of course it is all fear based. We never believe we will get what we want and we have this gnawing phobia that we will lose what we have. Fear. The negative force feeds right into it and we dive right in.

Then of course there are the negative people. They try to steer us away from our ambition, tell us it can never be done. Or they are romantic partners who put us down. Of course there are abusive, pushy people we cross paths with on the regular. Truth be told, the devil/the negative force/bad chi walks around on two legs on this planet every day and we have to choose. 

Today started with a message from someone from my past who is negative. Let's just say he is mean spirited, abusive, and tried to cheat me out of some money. I got this individual banned from a comedy club I once worked at. Without thinking of it, I blocked him making the boundary and our lack of a relationship clear. I didnt feed into him. I also had a run in with a mean girl and stood up for myself. This is someone who is bossy and always has to win. She and her toadie sometimes gang up on me which isn't very nice. I let her upset me for a minute but then remembered I had to go talk to a hospital about doing shows for sick children. The negative people of the world need a beat down, but the sick children need to smile more. 

Maybe as I get older, I have more faith and know I will be protected. 

Maybe as I get older, I know not to feed into the stupidity of negative people because they are meaningless. 

Either way, the older I get the more I realize I shouldn't give stupid bullies my energy. I shouldn't fearfully envy others believing I will never get my turn. Rather, I should concentrate on my own side of the street and my own game. I should use my gifts to benefit the world as I benefit myself. I shouldn't look into the fires of hell and feed the negative spirits that wander the Earth looking to suck energy from whatever source they can. And whenever I feel weak, know that there is a better way, a light. 

Maybe, just maybe, in the twisted world of Bible fan fiction the Archangel Michael is my homeboy after all.

Love

April

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl

www.aprilbrucker.com