Jim Trainer

the difference between seeds&keys

In Uncategorized on August 31, 2012 at 7:47 am

It was a Bukowski kind of day.  The kind of day where you give up around 10am.  Pour a Michelada and close the blinds.  Read a Dashiell Hammett novel.  Eat steak&potatoes.  Jerkoff.  Sleep.  A FTW kind of day.  You need ‘em.  The animal part of you needs ‘em.  Our entire existence is not social by nature, or rather, it’s just as natural to be anti-social.  Just ask the redbird.  He flies alone.  Someday, he’ll auspiciously light on yr rainspout and bring you, in your madness, some good news.
The good news is Fuck the World, its independence day.  Free to think any thought to its conclusion, or to no conclusion at all, w/o voicing it or announcing it to the world.  Free to have yr own little conversation, or no conversation at all (the best).  Unkink, unwind, just be.

The older I get, the harder it is for me to find a partner that I can do this w/.  Contrary, I know.  I’m lonely but for true intimacy.  Space shared, as opposed to words&ideas&&bodies&meals&time shared.  Just space and true intimacy.  As rare as a diamond but infinitely more valuable.  So,
yeah, it was a Bukowski kind of day.  Just being a lump of coal w/no potential and nobody’s gotdamn fucking issues crowding the brain w/snap judgements or political jibba-jabba&radio static.  Just the redbird and a 6 of Shiner.  Aho but Shiner Bock is fucking horrible.  Remind me to stock up on their Ruby Redbird or Black Lager next time I’m at the bougie store.  This Bock shit sux.  Hillbilly Michelob.

Perfect swill for a dour day.

listening to Polvo, reading Blades of Grass
I never knew a love so true
don’t think about the cruel way it all came to pass
try and think of Victory when I think about you
-lyrics from Again

Yrs,
Jim Trainer
Fox Den

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