Jim Trainer

Archive for March, 2011|Monthly archive page

32011

In Uncategorized on March 20, 2011 at 12:21 am

I hit a wall but it was a good wall.

My scattered and random posts, my Leave of Absence, it was not what I intended for this blog.  Perhaps the amount of beauty and truth I’ve experienced since January can compensate for that.  It’s not from lack of material, it’s just from lack of writing.  Lack of a room and lack of a light in it.  Lack of an empty ashtray beside the lack of an old oak desk.  It wasn’t from a lack of love. 

It’s just that:  “Sooner or later we all hit the wall.”-Nathan Hamilton

A slight pause.  A refueling.  Thank you beautiful Sisters for reading and inspiring me.  I see your numbers everyday and I am grateful.  There’s war and hunger in the world and total devastation, real and pending.  We’ll be together again.

These last few weeks have been incredible and I can’t wait to fill you in.  It will take me awhile to even attempt to describe even these last 5 days but we’ll see what we can do, hmm?

Compared to the suffering outside these borders we are in Paradise.  The Carnival will leave town and that’s nothing new.  These last few months I’ve been getting untangled and reaping the benefit from years of working on myself and keeping my Art alive.  Thanks for all your help.  We’ll be together again.

“I’m leaving Babylon, it will not be too long.”-Bad Brains

your Writer
Jim

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Sweet gig

In Uncategorized on March 16, 2011 at 11:51 pm

I told Petey some things tonight Rebecca Lucille Cannon.   First of all I’m calling him Peter.  Well after I told him to make a round one on the grass outside I told him to bite the balls and pussies off of the hipsters listening to Blondie in the hot tub in your courtyard.  Your internet is fine but your computer blows.  Macintosh.  It’s good-I’m on mine, me&Petey.  Jimbo and Peter’s Big Night Out at South By.

Back in the Game

In Uncategorized on March 14, 2011 at 10:54 am

That town is full of corpses and twice-broke dreams
preacher’s daughter makes a living outta makin’ ya feel ashamed
I folded every losing hand and then that cowboy came
left me drinking Tequila with my pigeon friends in the pouring rain
Out on the highway back out on the road
I felt something open up inside when I let you go
I pulled into Texas beneath my heavy load
I felt something open up inside when I let you go

Hey dealer

I’m back in the game
leave them cards where they lay
I don’t need to win
I’m just happy to play
Everything is different now
but I’m still the same
I wouldn’t cash those chips in yet
’cause I’m back in the game

I’m in a land of no winter but it’s getting dark
I work 6 days out of 7 and nurse my broken heart
There’s cold beer and good music down at Ginny’s bar
and 2000 smiling girls out on the boulevard

Hey ladies

I’m back in the game
throwin’ dice down
My big losing streak
it’s a turnin’ around
Everything is different now
but I’m still the same
I wouldn’t cash those chips in yet
’cause I’m back in the game

With the spring there’ll come the rain but there’ll be longer days
maybe some faces around the table sayin “we’re so glad you came”
I hope I’ll be turnin towards after all that turnin away
win or lose I hope I’ll always find the strength to say

Hey dealer

I’m back in the game
leave them cards where they lay
I don’t need to win
but that’d be nice for a change
After all that we’ve been through
how could you doubt my name?
I’d hold off on that Victory dance
’cause I’m back in the game

#10

In Uncategorized on March 1, 2011 at 12:20 pm

The Office of Jim Trainer
WAR ROOM
Hippie Town, USA

David Hagysback
Around the Bend
Austin, TX

1/21/11

Salud-

Hope yr feeling stronger everyday.  I have to give it up, my health has always been ok.  I broke my 5th metatarsal playing ball and had my nose broke down the Jersey shore during what can only be called “The Never-Ending Summer of Evil Knievel”.  We all gotta die and in life I I lament that I was born good-looking instead of hard-working.  We all have our crosses to bear but thinking about all the things you could have been is a dangerous way to think.

I have a Survival Manual given to young soldiers, cadets.  I found it working as a laborer at the Armory in West Philly.  There are some real gems in there, tight little nuggets of Wisdom crafted by Psy-Ops of the war Machine.  Rest is important to soldiers.  Especially with some poor country’s crude bombs overhead and shrapnel flying.  You’ve got to keep your eyes open. 

I must have been insane when I decided to be a writer.  Either that or ignorant but ignorance I can deal with.  The cure for ignorance is a series of rude awakenings, memorable events and tragedies that rattle the brain and destroy romance.  Between ignorance and insanity, the phone’s ringing and the cops are on the highway.  Here I sit, eight hours, eight hundred cigarettes and upwards of 1100 words a day.  I get rejection letters but I’m building up an arsenal of material to send them right back.  My work becomes a rejection of the rejection letter.

Dear Editor:
I’m sorry to hear of your non-interest in my work.  Here is my work.
Starving,
JT

When I get to this point in my creation cycle its best to kiss it goodbye and head downtown.  Every time I’m at the bar, I wave or wink, say hi, to the girl who works next door at BARBS&BABES.  They/ BARBS&BABES shares a kitchen with my regular 6 street hangout.  She wears these leggings with her jean shorts.  She has long brown hair and my smile disarms her.  Every night when the bar closes, I realize that the girl is different from the night before.  In fact it’s been a different girl every night, it’s just that the off-duty attire of all the beautiful young ladies who work at BARBS&BABES is exactly the same.  Last night I came home with nothing but regret.  No news and the amateur-sport of the weekend on the horizon.

It seems that life was only fattening us for the fight.  We fought to live, fought to die in our 20’s but we were stupid then.  Stupid now, but Wiser.  And wisdom, my friend, is like finding a pearl at a clambake.  You won’t find a pearl at a clambake but its wisdom that guarantees you will never find yourself again asking “Why the fuck am I here?”.  At least, if you do, it’s your own fault.  God might forgive you but Wisdom will not.  The ugly crowd grapples over tethers and crumbs but we know, David.  We know.

Remember, we’re Kings.

yours,
jimtrainer.net
Hippie Town