As a tourdriver I’ve been to every state in the lower 48 barring South Dakota. I’ve been clear across Canada in the middle of Febuary in a 30′ RV hauling a single axel trailer. I’ve gotten up close and personal to the people out on the road and that’s not always a good thing (Indiana). And, late in the afternoon on a brisk day on Victoria Island, I envisioned a future for myself in Austin, while smoking Duvalier’s and reading Chronicles in my room at the St. James. I’ve travelled with some real pieces of work-I’ve been on tour with 5 seperate dudes with 5 seperate drug addictions. I’ve come to the conclusion that the best way to see America is with Europeans. Norweigians to be specific, and you’d be hard pressed to find a more eqipped or better oiled machine than Satan’s Roadcrew (on the road with 1349 in 2008/9). Those boys are doing work and I don’t think I’ve ever heard a single complaint from any of them over the couple hundred days being on the road together. Those tours are very special to me. And ironically some of the hardest. Nothing beats working together especially when times is tough out there and laughter, shit the laughter-it’s all you remember after you’ve been through the fire with your comrades.
When you’ve done 32 cities in 35 days, a couple thousand miles seems like a dream. A cake walk. Ah but don’t too wise. The road can bring out the worst in people. And it’s all about how you roll, brother. Will you crack? And if so, it’s ok, but will you be able to put the pieces back together, get back on hitch and keep rolling down the highway until the road runs out or the wheels fall off?
I’ve seen some beautiful women on the road. And I’ve had more than one relationship ruined by the road. It’s a hard gig, takes allot out of you and the ones you love. And if you’re petty or controlling (a Virgo) you won’t be able to handle your partner being away for so long and in so many cities and backstage areas with groupies and porn stars. The truth is I never saw much of that, barring L.A., and the fact is-when the real shit was going down I was horizontal in the RV with the doors locked, dreaming my Benadryl dreams until sometime after 2 when the roads are clear and the cops don’t care and you can really jam it to Worcester or Orangevale. It wasn’t very glamorous for me out there. At all. Matter of fact all I did for long stretches of time was sleep and drive. But I believed in it. The Work. I believe in black metal and the Work of 1349 and as such I let it become my life for awhile. I wonder if I could ever go back to that life. There’s a thought. Ah but I was so much older then.
Truth is I’m kind of bummed we’re leaving. I’m really getting the hang of being a writer and my days are filled with the Work. I’ve sent out over 20 letters in the last 2 weeks and when I’m not writing poetry I’ve got it on my mind.
Just this morning in fact, I got an idea for the new book. It involves several cities, actually, and maybe it’s because we’re leaving tomorrow and I’ve got the road on my mind. Yes and of course it all comes back to me…busted and lumbering back from Amarillo, rejected by a Christ Church woman, stopping in Houston for an ill-advised trip down memory lane, through West Virginia where I’ve been the happiest in love, up in the North Country, all alone on a mountain top wondering how I went wrong and why, when I think about love, all I think about are clay pigeons up on a wire and shooting ’em down. One by one. And as I was conceiving the idea a single butterfly lit down on the Pride of Barbados out there and I realized something about love. Maybe I need to work on myself. Maybe I need to be alone. Single. I guess the point is that I am.
Do your work. Stand in the world like it’s your truth. People come and go. You know the price. You know the deal. A butterfly lights down, from out of nowhere, from out of the noise and ruckus and smells and whistles of construction crews building towers of greed into the blue lazy Texas sky. And here she comes, too. In gold and white laced pumps, her tawny brown legs and arms hazing a long lazy S swaying in the heat coming up the street-the prime mover of the universe. She is why, Brother. She is why the everything. She is why I get to live this life and slum it here in Paradise. She is creation. It’s her world. Keep your war. I’m hitting the road.
Sweethearts sat in the dark and sparked,
they hugged and kissed in that dusty old dark.
They sighed and cried, hugged and kissed,
instead of marriage, they talked like this:
“Honey…so long it’s been good to know ya’! “
-Woody Guthrie
July 14, 1912-October 3, 1967
See you on the mountain motherfucker.
Jim Trainer
Satan’s Roadcrew
Austin, TX
Going for the Throat 