The Office of Jim Trainer
3923 Run of the Oaks#G
Hippie Town, USA
Mako Reles
Medellin, Colombia
2/5/12
Warmest Greetings from the War Room-
Howdy, Mako. How goes? It pains me to see you off to some seemingly less industrialized&tropical Xanadu while I’m sipping warm beer w/hipsters dressed like cowpokes on a Friday night in Hippie Town.
Aho. Jimbo’s Big Friday Night at the White Horse was my way of celebrating. It was my last day of work. The temp job. I was drinking Lone Star big boys with a guy from work we call Peter Frampton. Me and Peter Frampton were belly up to the bar at the White Horse and then the band came in. About the only way you can offend me is musically and when you do its deeply and I am sorry for you, Brother.
They plugged in&starting playing and the fucking bottom dropped out. How can anyone born after 1969 in this country play rock n roll and not fucking mean it? I mean, I had just spent the last 30days of my life working in a cold building for 8 dollars and 50cents per hour and I was in no mood for ironic country-lite. Luckily Stu came through and so did my Uncle Jimmy. We decided to request Iron Maiden songs-well, we decided to yell Iron Maiden song titles at the band to irritate them/entertain ourselves. As you can imagine it took quite a while for us to exhaust all the titles from Maiden’s catalog. At first the band laughed along with us but eventually the crowd&the band tried to shame us into silence. They had hoped that somehow we would be embarrassed and stop. We weren’t and we didn’t.
And that was it. My work was done there.
I got home in time to draft a letter and drop it off to Pamor Properties. I was out of there, too. They charged me two weeks pro-rated rent and I guess that’s what I get for being such a prick to them the whole time I lived there.
I went by Red’s. She wouldn’t answer the door. I left a note and walked by the pool for old time’s sake. It was covered in a sheen of deadwinter slime, dead leaves&dirty moss.
And that was it brother Mako. The page had turned and my time at Bat Manor had come to a close. It was real and it was fun but it wasn’t real fun. Christ-the last two years I spent in that place were like living in a wine bottle. It was dark and wet and confusing; filled with Fruit files and hungover with madness.
Christ. I been on Craigslist for three fucking hours now. I don’t know what I’m gonna do when the money runs out. All I know is what I ain’t willing to do anymore which won’t make a damn in this economy. These days the difference between willing and able is the difference between standing bedside while a millionaire dies of brain cancer for 10 dollars an hour and joining my brothers out there on the row, donating plasma or standing highway-side with a sign that says: 39cents short of a soft taco GOD BLESS.
On the bright side, spiritually, there is no death. I have no enemies. All that trouble and subterfuge before was only a deepening the appreciation of peace that, even then, was on its way. I’ve started Yoga Teacher Training and all the channels are opening. I’m firing on all four.
We are that which we seek.
so understand, don’t waste your time always searching for those wasted years
face up, make your stand, and realize you’re living in the golden years.
–Iron Maiden, Wasted Years
yr Pilgrim,
Trainer
Hippie Town, USA
Going for the Throat 