Jim Trainer

Confessions of a Transmission Junkie

In Uncategorized on November 12, 2012 at 11:19 am

‘Rand, I’m tired
how would you like to be the boss for a while?’
‘Well, yeah.’  
My Life Is Good, Randy Newman

20 years in the stretches, past the swollen outroads of Empire, beyond the reach of any reasonable, sane or comfortable life. Sitting here, 37 years gone, the sun on my back and last night’s beer, last night’s wine on the floor beside me where I sit and type this.
It’s transmission that made me more than a dayshift worker, a nightshift worker, a zen outlaw and a rock&roll slob/slut. Sometimes I get on this site and pretend to post a blog simply for the charge it gives me. In some weird way, I’ve always wanted this and now it’s here.
My vision was based on the exemplary model set by Dr.Hunter Thompson. I just thought it was the coolest thing that the man could be stowed away in the mountains of CO with a satellite dish and a fax machine and transmit, send out the word and be heard. The Whip In was my Hotel Jerome for a while. I’d read my mail and drink IPAs with the staff, the hippie miscreants of South Austin and off-duty cops. I made a lot of friends that way. I must have handed out over 400 business cards to folks who blew through that vortex. I’m getting off track here. I now have transmission. It’s this blog. It’s just so…painful to open up a blank document on my computer and try to get serious. I’m a communicator. A transmission junkie.
I’m torn between fantastic heights of hyperbole and real motherfucking bummers of the sobering truth. High on outrage. High on transmission. I don’t know whether to lie or tell the truth on here. It’s all the same.  Although, the heart-on-sleeve stuff makes me cringe and I feel very ashamed for days after a post like that.
In Literary Speak what I am attempting is called Creative Non-fiction. I’m writing the story of my life on here, with you.  The story can unfold in any variety of ways, but mostly only cruel or kind.  I can cut my enemies balls off.  Or, I can paint myself as some kind of Don Juan ladies man instead of the lonely pervert I am, sitting here writing in my socks with a Michelada and blasting killit music with all the windows open to the great outdoors.
This site gives me what radio gave me all those years ago-Holy Transmission. Hitting PUBLISH is the thrill of craning the boom mic down to your mouth, hearing that absorbent silence out there in the headphones, leaning in under the ON AIR light and saying Hello, My People. 800 Watts.  Hot Damn.  There’s nothing like it.  This blog will have to do.
I’ve always been nothing except a poorman’s Henry Rollins, squeezing in transmission between: dayjobs&nightjobs, wrong broads, dimshit bosses&twatty landlords, cops on the highway, political maggots on the wire and true patriots stanchioned somewhere out there in their night.
My point is, I didn’t think I’d make it through. I wasn’t always vigilant in the post-midnight, catch-as-catch can hours before or after work. I didn’t think I’d make it and that drove me. Glad to say I was wrong. I’m looking down the barrel at 40 years of age and there is no reason that I can’t actualize this dream and make it my life.
I’m thinking of a further reach, people. Broader than the daily dirties we been living. Real media. Real time. Real transmission.

Won’t you join me? Stay tuned.

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  1. Keep it comin’

  2. […] like radar or radio.  True communication. We both know that I’m a transmission junkie and I’ve got to get my fix.  But this blog is certainly not, nor will it ever be, the truth. […]

  3. […] when reporting on nothing, I feel the need to report to you.  We know this blog is nothing if not transmission.  But I wonder how long I will need you to give myself permission to write, and I wonder about the […]

  4. […] it’s a high wire act with the blues and it’s surgery without anesthesia.  I’m a transmission junkie and I’ll never kick.  Without the lifeline of this blog I gnash and isolate, I sink and […]

  5. […] Critic, War and Radio Days.  We both know I confront myself on this platform, because I’m a transmission junkie with an accountability problem.  I’ve melded a need for self realization with the desire to […]

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