Jim Trainer

Warmest Greetings from the War Room

In Uncategorized on November 21, 2019 at 11:00 am

Any shit I get now from kids is some karma I’m going to have to eat so I don’t even mind so much.
Ray Cappo

I am positive he would never like to concede that.
Dave Dictor

I had no inkling what he was up against.
Dan Piepenbring

I just can’t do it.
Sean Doolittle

Please help us, American people.

We believe that the American people will be able to judge for themselves who the dangerous terrorists of this world are.
PKK

This place is a mess.  Serving blacks&whites, still in hangers mind you, and strewn across the floor.  Totes full of All in the wind and leftover yellow paper from September.  Proofs.  Ironing board, guitar, upright bass case and never mind the kitchen.  The bathroom don’t ask.  I haven’t cleaned this place since I moved in over 3 months ago.  It’s what it looks like when you’re a self-publishing musician with 2 jobs.  I’ve had to forfeit all else but I don’t mind.  These are the days of going on and clutching so hard to Art that all else gets blown and stacked in the far corners.  The truth is I feel better than I have in a long time.  I’d hate for this post to simply be daily dirties and prove Chas right about blogging being passe but sometimes you’ve got to do some housekeeping before you can get to the Real.  I’d like to tell you how we should stick around and be here for what time ain’t took down.  As the years blow by, the crew that remains are the True and what a gnarly cantankerous cast we are, too.  I continue to survive alcoholism and sometimes wisely wind down tapes of self defeat and a persistent inner voice that can wear me down and paralyze and that’s what’s so zen about the whole fucking thing–if I listened to that voice I’d give in and my self hatred would be self fulfilling and a vicious circle besides.  It’s the going on, heard?  Ask Gillian Welch.  Time fosters strength and survival is its own reward.  Think about you coming up in the hometown and look at you now.  You’re a fast living, make or break Artist refuting stakes and haranguing the odds til they come up red or roses.  Black is black.  Don’t you forget it Jack, and gone is gone.  There’s a lot to gain from loss and what it’s given me mostly is you, and today, right now–this moment is hands down the A#1 triumph of all we’ve been through.  We’re here and we’re together and isn’t that nice?

Book blocks are IN motherfucker.  Presses are rolling.  I don’t know why my bank won’t let me buy 10 ISBNs and a bar code so I’ll be on the horn for a spell this morning.  Then it’s off to meet with the promoter.  Then Print Guru Kevin Auer.  We’ll probably meet at the Austin Book Arts Center, drink black coffee and discuss anarchism.  My life has been forfeit but anyway devoted.  Everything fell away from bass playing and then everything fell away from InDesign and Photoshop.  Now that gigs have been played and books are in the can my charge is simple.  Make it through the catering season, fly to Portland and Philly and SELL 200 BOOKS.  I’ve a new devotion and it’s the same devotion.  I’ll have to make back what I put in to this thing and Maureen and I will add it up and then project.  I’ve got other towns to get to and others to get back to.  The point of this post is you’ve got to stick to it, whatever it takes.  I’m never one to tell you anything but straight that losing is part of the equation.  Losing is trying if you want to get cute but I’m not writing a meme here.  I’m punching this out in my bathrobe after 10AM on a Wednesday, without a clean dish in the house.  Go ahead and lose.  Lose everything, lose it all but keep clutched, be here and know that you will break through.  We only get stronger and that’s the goddamn truth.  You want a postcard life then go hang with the phonies, the real Losers.  Go be a fake somewhere else. Didn’t we deserve a look at you the way you really are?  The arts are the Arena, Bubba, and it’s punk rock all day.   What you’re most passionate about is what will save you–time and time again.  There are others out there with their own torches in the fog.  Burn yours so bright they can lean in if they have to, and spark back the pioneering, warring heart.  Ask me you should write but–the fuck do I know?  I had 2 hardboiled eggs and half a Hershey bar for dinner last night, ate them in my recliner and fell asleep right there watching Office Hours behind drawn curtains at the glass door.

grackle jpeg

I’m not the success they always thought I should be.  I’m not the success I know I could be.  These are the voices of death.  I’m here today.  This world is running down.  Next week at this time I’ll have 225 letter pressed and perfectly bound collections of my own poetry.  First time I did this was in 1997.  It was a 12-page poem called A Myth Of Man, xeroxed one side and fastened with brass tacks.  Next time was Nella Disperazione, same but stapled.  August, in ’99 had a cover and then I disappeared for more than a decade.  I drank bourbon, snorted Xanax and Coke off a bank card, bussed dishes, mowed lawns, really tested their love, got exiled, found a better life and wasted another 10 years playing guitar for schwarma and healthcare until I woke up one day and realized I was 40.  I published September shortly after and then All in the wind.  Quit the longest job I ever had, moved and fell right down the rabbit hole of day labor and poetry.  Take To The Territory was 6 months late but remains my inspiration today.  Love&Wages came out on time, motherfucker, and I gained much from missing the deadline for T to the T–I’ll never do that again.  I’m here.  I’m alive.  I’m getting close to who I wanted to be and in the process I’ve discovered who I really am.  I’m nowhere near anyone they wanted me to be but the Township was the end of the line for them.  They didn’t see anything wrong with the Police or this country or War.  So I left.  I ran and didn’t walk.  Still running.

See youse at the readings, motherfucker.

YELLOW LARK PRESS WILL RELEASE 2031 AND NO COMEBACKS ON
WEDNESDAY DECEMBER 11 AT BATCH IN AUSTIN TX
&
WEDNESDAY DECEMBER 18 AT SPECK’S RECORDS&TAPES IN PORTLAND OR

2031 thumbnail

SHARE THE POEM OF THE WEEK ON SOCIAL MEDIA AND I’LL WRITE YOU A POEM!

SEND ME YOUR ADDRESS AND I’LL WRITE YOU A LETTER!

PART 20 OF THE COARSE GRIND, MY MONTHLY COLUMN ON THE CREATIVE LIFE, IS LIVE AT INTO THE VOID.

2031, JIM TRAINER’S SIXTH FULL-LENGTH COLLECTION OF POETRY, IS AVAILABLE NOW THROUGH YELLOW LARK PRESS.  NO COMEBACKS BY WILL STENBERG IS AVAILABLE NOW THROUGH YELLOW LARK PRESS.
ORDER YOUR COPIES HERE.

Stay tuned for news on these releases, readings and broadsides from each collection, designed by Snakes Will Eat You and letter pressed at the Austin Book Arts Center.

 

  1. I’ve read your work for a while and have seen many facets of Jim Trainer. This by far is my favorite. It’s still real as it gets, but there is hope. My favorite line today: Time fosters strength and survival is its own reward. This has been my precept the past few years. Paste it to the ceiling over your recliner and remind yourself of it daily.
    Love,
    A fellow hard boiled egg and chocolate eater

    • Thanks Annemarie. I’m hinting at things I will expound upon at the book release. We will convene, you and I, eventually. Thanks for reading and as always for your insightful and kind words.

  2. […] « Before Warmest Greetings from the War Room November 21, 2019 […]

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: