Jim Trainer


In Uncategorized on April 1, 2021 at 7:26 pm

What do you think an artist is? …he is a political being, constantly aware of the heart breaking, passionate, or delightful things that happen in the world, shaping himself completely in their image. Painting is not done to decorate apartments. It is an instrument of war.
—Pablo Picasso

By the way, fear works. And if you have a leader that speaks your fears right back at you, boy, that is the most compelling thing to get a vote.
—Adam Kinzinger

This place has always been, above all else, a deeply violent place.
—Sean King

Poverty in the richest country in the history of the world is a death sentence.
—Bernie Sanders

This is the longest I’ve gone without an intoxicant in 30 years. I’ve quit smoking three times in my life—once as a straight-edge skinhead in 10th grade, then at 40 for 6 years and finally last night. There isn’t anything wrong and it’s a bummer you want to know the truth. Of course I could get into it with somebody on the socials or creep out a platonic in what passes for human courting in the pandemic. I don’t want to write this column anymore, it’s painfully apparent. Perhaps it’s time to make the leap from Personal Journalism to Journalism Journalism. It wouldn’t be the worst thing and I can’t think of any other way for me to affect change. Fuck man, write about it. Ahoy it’s time for something different to happen. I haven’t been writing daily, not like I ever did but I don’t know what I should expect from this column as it’s been written, closer and closer to deadline, until finally I’m writing this post past it on a Thursday.

The best thing that happened to me today is I felt the sun on my back. Once in the court this morning and again in the afternoon down at the bodega. Some haircut pulled up in a mini Audi. He squeegeed his windows and dried them by hand. A newscaster with a fat ass got out of her Channel 61 news van but had to pull around to get it pump-side. The skaters down there are endearing and impeccably polite. Michael’s behind the counter, he’s only had his Element for 2 years. I ask him about it, and his catalytic converter, and he doesn’t know or let on. I would’ve told him to beware but he doesn’t seem into it so I stepped out and stood in that Texas sun.

I go down there for junk food and I eat junk food for 1 of 2 reasons. To help regulate me or else to deal with stress. By not smoking a cigarette first thing this morning I took control of the day. This one wasn’t ruined but anyway I’ve still got to deal with my intestine. My gut’s flaring up again though it could be the nicotine passing. Another 3 days of wrenching pain til it all clears. Or it could be gone tomorrow. Girl next door’s going on with her bassy beat and that’s after enduring the teeth-rattling hum of construction all day. They’re installing Google Fiber, if you want to know what’s going on in the world. Ain’t shit changed.

The wisdom of middle-age is attuning to your own deeper rhythm and lost to the general sway. Turn your mind down because everything is so numbing but don’t tune out completely because then you’re only sleeping. Anyway, this post is to fulfill a deadline and I’m sorry but for the life of me I can’t do it like I used to. It makes me sad because I was really hitting a stride writing here in the Fall. I just couldn’t go on being mad Good Reader and I was either not depressed enough or so sunk I didn’t even know it and now I’m punching keys and making word count because I said I would.

It ain’t the worst thing but I hate half-assing anything so expect an announcement from me out of respect and in thanks. I wrote my way through a decade and now the field is fallow ain’t it, posting about the Castle Hill bodega and finally being intoxicant-free, without love or anger and standing in that Texas sun beaming on me in bright-hot and warm glory.

  1. […] and deadline Thursday. With time I can refine and I might even strike gold. In a way, posts like UNDER THE WEATHER and LIKE A SOLDIER are a victory for plain-spoken and what I call unmiraculous prose. The reporting […]

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