Jim Trainer

I’M A LIAR AND A ROMANTIC AND I’M LOST AT THE END OF THE WORLD

In Uncategorized on March 12, 2020 at 11:00 am

We were liars in love and we danced…
The Hooters

Now I woke me up with a cardinal bird
and when I wanna talk he hangs on every word…
-Tom Waits

Too smart to ask for more
this is all I’ve waited for
Nothing hidden and nothing wasted
nothing past the love I’ve tasted…
SEBADOH

Spring has sprung but things might feel a little different now.  Austin won’t be the center of the Rock&Roll universe this year and, despite woes to the local economy, a break from the madness that SX brings is welcome in my camp.  Truth is my life will be as crazy and slipshod as ever, I just won’t have to be strategic or gridlocked and anyway ride my bike everywhere to avoid getting mired in the throng.  I’m not jaded about SX.  I love it.  I never had a problem getting around and made some great friends during the festival.  I’m not sad it’s cancelled though and anyway probably glad I don’t work in the food service industry full-time anymore.  We’ve all got our row to hoe and, tell you the truth, my struggles go mercilessly on and without quarter.  I need to get seen and start living right.  Life is passing me by and perhaps that’s what’s so sad about the city cancelling SX.  I’ll be stuck in my own orbit, as usual, fighting this beast of depression that’s really gained momentum in these later years. It’s a bugger and a bear and I don’t know if shit was easier when I got fucked up or that my symptoms were only masked.  Either way I am looking forward to getting healthy and engaging fully in the world of letters and Art and anyway re-devoting myself to this path I stepped foot to almost thirty years ago.

To think on that old life and the suburbs, when my Father was alive and Jesus Jones was on the radio, is a mindfuck.  In fact that old life is so removed I could glean some comfort knowing that this, like all things, shall pass.  If I’m living right I won’t recognize myself in only 5 years, except that my poetry will be better and hopefully column writing for fuck sake.  I suppose things are winding down on the Personal Journalism front though I’ll probably always need the anchor that these posts have become.  Truth be told, I’ve come to rely on you Good Reader and I’ve outsmarted inspiration and in fact lived down writer’s block by sublimating the bad blues and my ennui living as a prisoner of capitalism and at the behest of dull minds and weak hearts.  I know you know what I am talking about.  We’ve lived here, ain’t it, on these pages.  We yelled, beat down, ran cold and tore hot away from the masses.  We found for own own private madness, we rattled our chains and roared.  We soared mountains of solitude together, hoisting each other, one by one and rung by rung and looked, from on high of a column of 600 words at their world below.  In fact as recently as minutes ago, when I slid the sliding glass open and turned on the overhead fan, lit a stick of Nag Champa and started writing this–I was a different man.  I was spent and soiled.  Wearing my workshirt, unwashed, sleep and sloth all over me and hopelessness nagging at the seams of the afternoon.

Now I’ve put this down and shook out whatever death was corroding the corners of my mind.  I’ve come to focus, stantioned a column of words, 542 and counting, and whatever was bothering me is, literally and completely, gone.  This is where we’re at, Good Reader, which is where we always were.  I could bemoan the fact that my own mind is a tarantula, that I have to heave off black torrents of dread to get through even the moment a lot of the time–or I could rejoice that as a writer I’ve got the juice and the stones to shake it, really put the blues in its place on the page and get on with it, living and life and anyway the survival of a major depressive disorder.  As usual, for a Pisces like me, I’ll go with both–the dim and the glory but I won’t leave you here without the reminder that I either got to hang up this blogging gig or else go whole hog into Personal Journalism.  I can’t stomach any more blogs like this one–non-events that become events. Don’t get me wrong, like I said it’s a miraculous thing.  I think what I’m trying to say is I want to be a better writer.  If that’s the case then I don’t suppose I should hang it up but instead delve deeper.  Instead of posting 600 words here every week I should do it every day, whether or not it’s shareable and makes it to the pages of Going For the Throat.  Why not?  All you’ve been hearing me say is that it’s time to get better.  Let’s take it all the way across the board shall we?  See you at the drawing board mothefucker and otherwise the writer’s desk God help me.  I’m sure me and my writing will be a worthy adversary and like any great enemy, I’ll learn from the rivaling, and cast off this old karma until I’m standing in the light of day.

May you find fuel in the dark that you can burn on for a long time.

Trainer
AUSTIN TX

PUNCH A NAZI

BECOME A PATRON AND JOIN JIM IN THE STRUGGLE FOR PERSONAL JOURNALISM.
PART 24 OF THE COARSE GRIND IS A LECTURE ON SELF-PUBLISHING, GIVEN AT THE AUSTIN BOOK ARTS CENTER AND CHEATHAM STREET WAREHOUSE THIS WINTER.  AT INTO THE VOID.
SEND ME YOUR ADDRESS AND I’LL WRITE YOU A LETTER!
NO COMEBACKS BY WILL STENBERG AND 2031, JIM TRAINER’S SIXTH FULL-LENGTH COLLECTION OF POETRY, ARE AVAILABLE NOW THROUGH YELLOW LARK PRESS.
GET YOUR COPIES HERE.

2031 thumbnail

  1. While I look forward to your future success as a columnist, I would surely miss your personal blog. I continue to live as a writer vicariously through you. (I can’t even finish my letter to you for goodness sake.) Continue growing, my friend.

    • I get it. It’s always a struggle, Annemarie, but I see you keeping that part of you alive through your Art. Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for reading. Keep bleeding.

  2. It’s time to get better. An anthem of purpose dear friend.

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: