Jim Trainer

Posts Tagged ‘going for the post’

Shrieks from Paradise, Correspondence&Rails#23 : Dear Charlie O’Hay

In Being A Poet, Being A Writer, Charlie O'Hay, Correspondence, Jim Trainer, Letter Writing, Poetry, Writing, WRITING PROCESS on September 18, 2015 at 2:06 pm

The Office of Jim Trainer
709 Rio Grande
Austin, TX

11/15/13, 12:36 PM

Dear Charlie O’Hay-

I’m out front Dirty Bill’s and it sure feels good&warm in that Texzas sun.  The girl who usually works happy hour is off, my boss lets me eat here as long’s I pick him up a Blackened Fish salad and “hurry back”.  I hope you don’t mind me writing.  I barely know you, if at all, but I write letters to folks when I can’t write, or, to justify a few beers while on shift and living tot die.

I was about to write:  “We poets…”, but, fuck that.  I wouldn’t read anything that said that.  While it’s true that I don’t know you, we must test each other’s mettle, Charlie.  We must bleed the Poet’s Heart and see if we can be as vulnerable&strong as people like Lamaont Steptoe or Adrienne Rich.

I think we can agree that the finest poem we’ll ever write will be the first beer of the day, and the sun on your back is a reason to live…so, I don’t think I’m too out of my deepth in writing you.

We will live to see stranger things than our own mortality, Brother.  And, ironically or no, survival is prize.  And children.  And dog love.  I’ll have to cut this short be cause here she comes-the other kind.

Love is pain, but as we close the distance between us&the Sun, all is burning.  (She’s a blonde and you know how that goes.)



Heart Work

In Correspondence, Letter Writing, Writing on September 4, 2015 at 2:51 pm

#letterday #goingforthepost #goingforthethroat

People keep saving me. I’m inches from the shark shallows, Mr.Motherfucker is at the door and the backyard’s full of jilting lovers and phantom brides. And then I’ll get a message, like the one above, from Brother Chris. I wrote Chris one afternoon on a mountain in upstate NY. I took to writing letters after the good Doctor Thompson, who had upwards of 25,000 letters in his archive when he died. And I know that any excuse or reason to write is good, but even then, when the world is at my neck and time has branded me with its claws, I know I can sit down at the Great White machine and work it out. Send it out. To you good reader. Because you are infinitely more inspiring than my old ass mama’s boy blues. And then you write back and I’m astounded and thrilled that writing, communicating, has become my life. How fortunate. How miraculous, that the short story I wrote at the age of 10 about a pudgy, pigeon-toed Italian kid who could go beyond the walls into another world has come true. Then, when I can’t even write about not being able to write, I’ll send out word. Send you a letter. Walt Whitman was right y’all. And I contain you.

Down at the Office, Fridays can be a bit of a jackoff. Send me your address and I’ll write you a letter. If you’ve sent me your address already, rest assured, you’re on the list (but feel free to remind me), you might even be next and my love will be with you.

Go for the post.
Jim Trainer
Austin, TX