Jim Trainer

Splendid Isolation

In Uncategorized on April 16, 2013 at 1:17 pm

I was in the garden hosing the Neapolitans when she yelled down to me from the fire escape.
False flags, she shrieked, 2 dead! And 3 bombs!
I looked up into the white oak.  He likes the dark ones fucker.  One peep outta him and he was done.  I had my finger on the trigger.
Ok, I say, and aim my gun at the rainbow Kale.  Fire.

I don’t do news.  I don’t care about the world.  This is just another post from a horny hapless journalist who spends most of his time stanchioned up in the high rooms of a dead confederate palace drinking with a hardon and a hashpipe. The concerns of my days here in Paradise are few.  There’s these precious words and there is the countdown to Maduro time.  Aho.  At this late stage of the game a cigar and a 6pack is all that gets an old pervert like me through the day.  I also have an unconscious devotion to tomatoes.  And a woman.

My heart goes out to those who find they’ll be missing someone for the rest of their lives.  But I’ve got to turn away from the pedantic punditry&big business of news reporting and the battle cries of  armchair revolutionaries and the bleeding hearts of an Army of loud&well-wishing  Americans.  I got little time for jibba-jabba and the news makes me dull.  My time is running down and I’m busy keeping my loved ones close b/c I know I’ll be missing them for the rest of my life when they go.

The door slammed shut behind her and it startled him.
Aho.  Morning fuckface.
The hot sun was climbing.  Fuck it.  I decided to take it up to the Office, try and get some work done.
Rejoice, I say, you live another day.
I’ll see you tomorrow motherfucker.


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