adding up the late Night at the Fox Den

–for Kris

1000 words on Saturday. 8hours sitting in the same spot on the roof smoking&drinking Mate and Iced Mocha. I took breaks-did handstands and rocked some Steve Earle on Spotify. I finished around 4:30pm. Sent it off to Brother James. I ended my workday drinking Lone Star big boys at the Key Bar and listening to Patsy Cline radio on Pandora. It was date night. I came back to the Fox Den, showered&shaved.
Katinka came by and showered her love down on me. We were laying down in the quiet&dark. Then came the questions. Ask a question, get an answer. Common sense and appropriate behavior in the world of professional adults.
Sunday morning I woke to an email from the Editor: 1000 word blurb due by midnight.
Fuck.
We grilled out Sunday. 6lbs of lamb, 6bottles of wine. Simmering dusk w/my sistren on the porch. More wine&raging&bad girl-craziness after dark.

My point?
I overdid it. Woke up Monday with death on my shoulders and in my lungs. Regret-its what’s for breakfast, and if you doubt that it’s all in your mind you’d do wise to take warning, Brother. There is nothing but total War in my head at times, and I wish to be a soldier no more.
Last year at this time I was trekking up to OK and out to La Grange, running from death for money. Not much has changed. I’m still roaming out on the corners of my psyche, somehow trying to wear out spirit&put it to rest. But now the body is tired and spirit is only ingratiated.

Still running against the wind.

The trouble is far more complicated than some Christian coloring-book, Psych 101-type shame. The guilt I feel and the regrets I have are only further burden on the body. They do not set the spirit free. They do not set my brothers&sisters free.
I am wrapped tight in Samskara and fall victim to spiritual greed again&again.
Sometimes a pilgrim but mostly a thief between Temple and the bad road.

Got the blurb off. Re-working the bio today. If we meet on the street will you please share with me the word of god?
Tell me that he’s not alone and that we’ll meet again.
Don’t tell ‘em I could never be alone or stand myself for more than a few hours at a time-in Temple or up on stage or out on the Good Red Road somewhere.

there I go, playing the star again
-Bob Seeger
My heart is filled with a great Compassion for all things living, all things dying but I’ve grown weary of the mortal coil. I lose patience w/blues&trouble and I have zero tolerance for bad craziness.
For decades, you paraded as a crazy bitch,
Wretchedness-your lucky charm.
Hung like a bracelet,
Displayed on your arm.
-Shellac, Didn’t We Deserve A Look At You The Way You Really Are?

Get professional help or get off my phone. If you’ve got a deadline for me you need to have a check for me as well. Death&money. What else?
There is a great&grave suffering in the world. If we meet on the street will you please share w/me the word of God?
I only sing for God.
-Angie Knight
Life goes on. Then it ends. Then death goes on.
NAM MYO HO RENGE KYO
We pray for the dead.

Yrs,
Jim Trainer
Fox Den
Hippie Town, USA