Jim Trainer

When Everything Is Wrong

In Uncategorized on October 25, 2018 at 12:51 pm

What am I in the eyes of most people–a nonentity, an eccentric, or an unpleasant person–somebody who has no position in society and will never have; in short, the lowest of the low. All right, then–even if that were absolutely true, then I should one day like to show by my work what such an eccentric, such a nobody, has in his heart. That is my ambition, based less on resentment than on love in spite of everything, based more on a feeling of serenity than on passion. Though I am often in the depths of misery, there is still calmness, pure harmony and music inside me. I see paintings or drawings in the poorest cottages, in the dirtiest corners. And my mind is driven towards these things with an irresistible momentum.
-Vincent Van Gogh

The shapeshifting thing, I honestly think he may have a brain tumor. He’s always been insufferable.
D’arcy Wretzky

While a police dictatorship may damage and even destroy people’s ability to think, a consumerist society can lull them into the same state. These words read as prescient in a time when Russia is run by what used to be its secret police, while the U.S. is headed by a reality-TV star.
Masha Gessen

Why this asshole?
John Oliver

Well.  I’m running back and forth from the War Room to the toilet, in turns sipping cold instant coffee and shitting my brains out.  My bowel problems began last January, not long after I was back on labor and trying to curb my credit card debt delivering school lunches to San Antonio from a shop that increasingly felt like a prison yard.  I thought it was the worst until I quit and started working as a courier for an electrical parts manufacturer.  Then I had to hold it in, in the predawn dark, waiting for contractors to meet me at the yard, and I exploded in every disgusting stall and sack shop on the northern I-35 corridor.  North Texas is a wasteland and that job was nowhere.  It qualified me for Unemployment Compensation but because I worked 1 catering gig as a temp worker the state deemed I’d quit.  Not only did they take future benefits away, they say the $1,640 they already gave me was overpaid.  It’s a travesty, something I haven’t processed or dealt with effectively but hereby put down, like you do, and attempt to parse and get a grip on in writing.  You know I went to Europe not long after that and for those of you who offered me counsel on whether or not to go–you were right, it needed to happen.  It was fraught and exhausting and there was, at times, no hatred wasted but I was equally treated and survived by the grace and hospitality of others.  Now I’m back in the States and trying to make the best of it and see if any sense can be gleaned from the woodchipper of world events while deciding whether it’s worth sticking around.

The news of Kashoggi’s demise couldn’t be worse until you consider that 62 million Americans don’t give a fuck.  The hysteria on Twitter over the 7 pipe bombs found in New York City, the offices of CNN and the slower-lower of Delaware is fugacious and I’ve no further comment at this time.  I watched Kavanaugh‘s rebuttal to Ford’s testimony finally and have a different conclusion about the man than the one I reached only hearing it broadcast live, while on shift.  His outrage almost sounded convincing on the radio but to watch him deliver it is to see the piggish face of American exceptionalism.  I won’t dwell, can’t dwell on it.  I’m behind on current events and deliberately far enough removed to remain detached.  I wake up at noon and sometimes go an entire day without speaking to anyone.  As good as that sounds and as undoubtedly good as it feels, it’s not.  It’s depression knocking and the endless rainfall we’ve been having since the end of the terrible summer is pushing the needle to the suicide side.  I’m working on some stories, spoken word pieces I’ll be performing, and ruminating on a business plan.  It seems like business is the business at hand.  I want to take my artistic career to the next level but the only way I know how is punk rock.  I’ve done 2 pressings of September and sold out the first.  All in the wind‘s ambitious run of 150 has yet to be sold out but I’ve learned from that experience.  Take To The Territory‘s run was small but I have book blocks and covers ready to be assembled as I gear up to make another push for them very soon.  

This blasé and staid post is a reminder that everything is not ok and that’s ok.  I don’t know what else to do but hang on until the weather turns or this state turns blue.  My health concerns are annoying and my employment woes only reinforce that this is the life I chose.  I wish the best for my people and want to see my enemies drawn and quartered.  I’m a victim of love and hate and spin the wheel of dharma round.  I keep in mind how good my bad is and think I might have to try and help somehow.  Otherwise I might lose my mind, go soft while I’m shut in and selfish as the world chokes its last breath and humanity drowns in its own blood.  It’s not lost on me that I’ve won the round and I feel good now, most of the time.  The world’s got me by the balls but it don’t take much to bring my love around.  Now that I feel good I should do good.  As hard as it’s been, I been equally as lucky, dizzy with my own black pain but still a gleam in her starry eye, coveted and held in place here, alive.

 

 

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