Hello all,
I guess you could say I'm an ex-musician/now working in the film industry, laid back rogue scholar kind of guy. My favorite place to visit is SF and northwest coast. Although I live in LA, I feel more at home with the people up there. Thats not to say LA doesn't have it's "tribe", but that is why I am here.

I don't just talk about trying new things, I try them. It's not uncommon for me to take a road trip (motorcycle or car) and have only an idea of where I might be going.

I also work hard. I am happy to have found my life career path, but yea it had to be a tough one. It takes a lot of time and energy out of me, and it's really more of a lifestyle than career. However, I do make time to play, and play hard.

At the young age of 12 I was severely burned over my arms, chest neck and face. No need to feel sorry for me, I'm all healed up now and living a full life. The scars are there, and I have no intention of hiding them. For me they are a badge of honor. A sign that I am one tough cookie who can take just about anything. It's an experience I have gained a lot of personal and spiritual growth through, and is NOT something I never wished happened.

Now, I do admit that there are better ways to personal enlightenment, but this was the path given to me. Big lesson learned, big price paid.

I think we all have scars, and shouldn't be so eager to hide them. Scars remind us of the past, show that we have healed and have moved on. The size isn't important, just the impact.

Don't let fear hold you back, and live each day to the fullest.

She was eight,
With eyes of blue lapis that sparkled clear,
Innocent as a day break.

As she studied my features her smile disappeared and
her brow furrowed deep into a question I have learned
to recocnize,
a question youth is not afraid to ask.

“What happened to your face, were you in a fire?”

Yes, these are scars you see, burn scars.

Her smile returned and with precocious delight she announced boldly
“You know in school they taught what to do
if your even on fire.
They told us that you
Stop, Drop and Roll.”

Stop, Drop, and roll.

Three words that bring me back to a bright third grade spring afternoon.
Fire Safety Day.

We were ushered single file onto an asphalt landscape that was our playground
Our destination very clear,
For in front of this bright red truck stood four firemen
Eagerly and patiently awaiting our arrival.
Each one cookie-cutter images of American virtue. Warriors.

As I stepped up to that gym mat placed above the painted lines
Of hopscotch, I defiantly waved away those strong hand dedicated to saving lives,
And with the elastic agility that is signature to young-country-boy,
I leapt into the procedure.
Stop, Drop and Roll.
Then get up with a “Ta-DA!”.
The fireman chuckled, but when our eyes locked they seemed to say
“Remain the child you are today, but never forget these words.
Now move on to the next demonstration of fire safety”.

“Did it hurt?”

Yea… it hurt.

It’s my easy answer. For truth? Truth is hard to explain
Truth is hard to convey, especially to eight year old eyes.
In that first brief moment,
there was no pain.

There was a whoosh of hot air drier than any desert wind,
My hands raised instinctively to protect my eyes,
And one single involuntary word escaped my lips
“Fire”.
Then the crackling roar of a thousand campfires
Extinguished all evidence of a world existing
Outside walls of dancing amber light.
Flames licked, caressed me.
Held me in long tendril arms
And there was no pain
But I could feel my skin
Crack, peel and curl away
Like old dry paint.
It was like my body was no longer
A true part of me
But an “earth suit”.
Slowly and methodically being striped away
Exposing and freeing a soul trapped within
For the first time since conception
And it was glorious.
Caught somewhere between quos and ecstasy,
Time stood still
As I was being consumed, transformed, shifted
Becoming pure raw white hot energy
FIRE.

Suddenly a voice
Cut through the magic, breaking the spell
And bringing me back
Into this world.
A Voice.
Conveying idea and image
Faster than word
Faster than sound
Faster than thought.
A voice.
Strong, urgent maternal and commanding

“Wake up!
You must not succumb to this rapture
Wait!
Don’t panic, you can not run to break free of these walls of flame,
You Are On Fire.
NO!
Don’t scream.
The breath you take will seer your lungs and be your last.
I’m sorry,
But innocence is gone.
This is not a school yard drill
There are no firemen here to save you.
Death is seconds away
And you don’t have time to think.
You know what to do, so react
NOW!”

“Did you
Stop, Drop and Roll
Just like your suppose to?”

Yea,
I stopped,
I dropped,
And I rolled, just like your suppose to.

Just wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be.



Josh Gambin, 1999. all right reserved