Jim Trainer


In Uncategorized on May 30, 2019 at 9:00 am

…people in those positions are controlled in the exact same way as people who are considered traditional employees.  Nothing changes in their lives except they don’t get unemployment insurance, or they don’t get worker’s compensation.  They don’t get the minimum wage.
-Veena Dubal

I just wrote in disgust against it all, it was a relief to get the shit out of my system.
Charles Bukowski

I felt shut out of those relationships. 
Heather Derr-Smith

…I don’t think the normal rules of journalism would apply to what I was doing.
-David Brock

Warmest Greetings from the War Room.  It’s been so long, eh Good Reader?  Not that I left you holding the bag.  I had 2 of them thangs back loaded and ready to go.  Long ones traipsing the thorny terrain ain’t it though.  Sure enough by the time I had the last 2 weeks’ posts written for Going For The Throat, things began to turn.  I was telling Brother Rob on the phone that it works every time and how blessed we at the wheel can be.  It either drives you or it drives you insane.  This is surgery we gather here for and I can’t do it with drugs or alcohol so I may as well cut and splay the inner diatribes of a workaholic scribe who bartends and captains parties for $15-25/hr to keep me from the outdoors and anyway quiet afternoons like this when I can get it out in 6-800 words here or at The Coarse Grind.  Mencken was right, this is the life of Kings although Rich didn’t seem so jazzed or plussed about it.  Last night around the sink in the kitchen at the Texas Tribune I told the part-timer that his was the real work but he wasn’t so sure.  He’s 29.  Things are different for him.  Now there’s an understatement.  He’s thinking he’s got it made, and he does–it was a moment further from death for him than it was for me, scrubbing out the tequila from a beverage dispenser as he loitered in the kitchen at a work party for journalists.  Long may you run.

We lost the best storyteller this town had a couple weeks ago.  Doc was a brute at the mic and a mensch of a man besides.  All I can come up with is sadness.  He was a soldier and I left him needing, wide open and exposed on the frontlines.  Brian, I love you Man, and I can’t wait to see you again.  I showed up late to his memorial at Kick Butt Sunday but for good reason.  I was reading to support the release of Justin Arnold’s A Dog Outside at Night in a Fight.  Life goes on and death goes on but Brian Doc Grosz’s death has given me a gift.  I want to be there for it, this Life, and you, even and especially when you bore or exacerbate me.  I know that’s not the right use of that word.  I’m a poet–what do you want from me?  I know that this is all there is and that boredom and even irritation with them can be the first line of defense for this lifelong sufferer of a major depressive disorder.  I’ve started practicing Yoga again, with my guru and Friend and I’ll be taking a mentorship with her this Fall to get this rig unwound, start paying attention and devoting myself to something greater.  That’s what I was on about the last couple weeks–blogging here and jerking the days off, suffering the shit carbs and sugar of a 7-11 cuisine after humping 2 coolers full of ice to the 6th floor of the Texas Tribune simply will not do, Good Reader.  I don’t have time to be down.  Or the bandwidth or anything other than beauty and ire to give to this Life.  It’s for Doc.  I’m here to celebrate that I’ve culled some real Wisdom in the arena of self mastery.  I can see how much I’ve wasted and the only way to reconcile this loss is to use it as my inspiration today.

I’m trying to tell you I love you and you’re a pain in the ass and this Life is all we got.  Let us be courageous like the Buddha, stand out in the light of day and die laughing if we can.  Our work will save us.  Vox populi vox dei.




Love you Brother.

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