Jim Trainer

Posts Tagged ‘RawPaw’

The Coarse Grind, New Journalism

In Austin, Being A Poet, Being A Writer, day job, getting old, Jim Trainer, journalism, media, music journalism, new journalism, news media, published poet, publishing, publishing poetry, punk rock, RADIO, Submitting, submitting poetry, TYPEWRITERS, Writing, writing about writing, WRITING PROCESS on January 26, 2017 at 3:17 pm

What follows is the first installment of The Coarse Grind, my column that was never published.  A local zine and arts collective had asked me to write 3 drafts under 600 words.  I ended up writing 5 of them and sent the first 3 to the editor.  We had a correspondence then, that included the phrase “curating for millennials”, but ended with me accusing her of being “disingenuous” and “silly”.  I can see her point now, almost 3 years later, while reading these over.  I don’t know who could be expected to read anything as long as 600 words as even major news outlets race to publish first, and edit and redact later.  Besides the horror in realizing how long ago this was, I’m emboldened reading these, in full faith that you, good reader, will read 600 words every week, even if it’s the same old story.  That’s the boon and bane of the blogging business-you’ll never run out of material as long as you keep writing about yourself.  Christ.
Stay tuned for the next 2 installments of The Coarse Grind.  

New Journalism

Christmas Eve ’95 I slept in Cromwell Park. I’d been thrown out of my mom’s house for not having health insurance. It needed to happen. And the rest…I suppose. What happened was I fell through about 5 years of daylabor and shitjobs, another 5 as a mad Boehme, 3 on the getting-sober circuit and shit about 3 years working down here, in the Pearl of the South.  What also happened is I decided to be a writer.  I had to be, as clichéd as that might sound.  I was working a string of jobs that were boring the life out of me.  I dealt with it the only way I knew how-with a typewriter and booze.

One of the first things I did when I got here was get a library card. Checked out Locked in the Arms of a Crazy Life, a biography of Charles Bukowski by Howard Sounes. It was profound for me to discover the great poet had started writing poetry at the age of 35. I was 34.  Another thing I did when I got down here was pitch to Verbicide Magazine and write blues legend Steve James a letter, to say hello and ask for an interview. Those first months in Austin were a fertile time, days and months planting seeds and business cards. It was like I landed, dropped my bags and said,
“In 3 years I will be a writer.”

Then I got a job.  Then I got laid off.   I stayed on unemployment way past any reasonable amount of time, and fell sadly short of my goal of becoming a writer in 3 years. I had to go back to work.   It was one of many crises of doubt I had experienced, going all the way back to being homeless in my hometown in 1995.  I wanted to be a writer.
I landed a live in gig, in a big yellow mansion inconveniently located off west 6th.  A perfectly annoying backdrop and foil for this phase of my life which I can proudly announce to you is “being a writer”. This is the being a writer period, the being a writer time. Now it always was, I guess, but I didn’t know it then. Neither do you. But I appreciate you reading. It completes me. I feel received. Like radio-a magic jolt to it, an urgent zing to these words coming at you-can’t you feel it?  Right? Wow.
What do I do now that I am a writer? That I’ve cleaned my guns enough to crank out 8-1,200 words, neat and fine, on a whim or otherwise?  That of anything and everything that ever happens I not only have a ticket out of but a ticket into? That’s right, good reader.  I got an inroad to the best game in town and the players? Well shit the players are me&you darling and isn’t that nice?
Now that I’m a writer think I’ll bring it back for you. Tell you how I got here and that I’d like you to join me. In the late night or in the bright morning, I’d like you to join me on the savage road-this is the new stuff-join me in this new media, this new age-this moment. Let’s do some shit. Send out our signal into the hungry land. Let’s send out a song of love or better let’s send ‘em some anger. Let us burn.

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MOVE

In Activism, activism, alcoholism, anger, ANTI-WAR, anxiety, Being A Poet, Being A Writer, Being An Artist, blogging, blues, depression, mental health, mid life, middle age, new journalism, PACIFIST, PACISFISM, politics, PROTEST, punk rock, recovery, revolution, sober, sobriety, War, working class, Writing, writing about writing on January 19, 2017 at 3:01 pm

There’s colors on the street
red, white and blue
-Neil Young

…I have no worries.
-The Dalai Lama

Time is runnin’ out I’m comin’ right down to the wire
gotta go do something to get myself higher
-The Velvet Underground

I’m sitting on a backlog of posts that chronicle my road to recovery from my homeless hometown beginnings to my modern day battles with depression in Paradise. These posts offer a more definitive and specific timeline than my unusually hyperbolic tellings of devastation, sexual conquest and ego mania.  They’re a good answer to questions like “Did that really happen?”.  I’m at the end of my rope here but not for creative reasons.  The blog is cutting too close to the bone.  I’m sober now, and there’s a whole world of drama and conquest I’ve sworn off.  I’m reduced to surgery on myself, without anesthesia, and live on the world wide web.  There was no better grist for the wheel than my decades long fall through the Night Kitchen.  Boredom could be a root cause of alcoholism, which is to say, existential dread.  Down here at the Office we got nothing but, good Reader-malaise and anger, agitation and the rest.  These are the colors of my palette and of course the canvas is you.

Those posts and essays were drafted for what I thought would be my weekly column.  My work was refused though, and I never tried that again.  I figured I had you and we had this blog and I’ve always done better aloof, on my own and conquering my own world.  The truth is I’ve only drifted further and further out-dangerously into my own orbit.  I suffer 100% less of their bullshit, but the full 100% of my own.  I’m depressed.  The beast in me is winning the round.  Stories on the radio have profound psychic effect.  I’m paralyzed in the prime of my life with almost any option I choose open to me.  Weeks gone by, Thursdays, 3 and 4 day weekends sleeping late and staying in.  I’ve held to my obligations, I work, but I haven’t been writing, and this blog’s been the only thing that’s kept me in line.  It’s not as bad as it used to be and to the depressed mind this is somehow supposed to be good.

There are certainly more important matters on the dais.  Tomorrow this country could roll back to the 20th Century, we could find ourselves working around the clock to pay exorbitant medical bills or just fuck off and die.  People are enraged and roiling and the New Dumb would rather wage war than show compassion for their fellow human beings.  I’ve never been here before, where the storm within is only matched by the storm without.  I feel fucked and the world is getting there.  It’s not news to me, or you or anyone that somewhere someone is always getting fucked and it’s usually by this country.  It’s gone unchecked for too long, our selfishness and exceptionalism have gone too far.   The beast is eating itself.  Then again, if you ask the poor, the black, the disenfranchised, it’s been going on from the beginning.  I have no solace for you, good reader, let alone a point of light for us to focus on.  All I know is, I’m getting depressed again, I can’t stay here and the New Century is about to take a dark turn.  I’m hoping my backlog of posts written at the request of Brother Bean and Raw Paw Magazine will get us through.  The shit is here, it’s landed and I’ve got to move or I’ll be crushed.

Hope to see you on the streets motherfucker.

Shrieks from Paradise, Correspondence&Rails#22: PUBLISHED

In Austin, Being A Writer, Correspondence, going for the throat, Poetry, poetry submission, Submitting on August 27, 2015 at 12:55 pm

GREETINGS ALIEN

If you’re receiving this email, you are a visual artist or a writer and you are featured in

RAW PAW VOLUME 6: ALIEN

Because of each and every one of you, we were able to create our best compilation yet: 114 pages of offset printed beauty with vellum inserts, a minizine, and a die cut cover. Oh yea, and a 22-song mixtape!!!!

Thank you all so much for contributing to this time capsule of art! We are celebrating this coming together of talent on AUGUST 29TH AT THE MOHAWK. You get a free copy of the zine and you are on the guest list for the show!

If you aren’t in Austin, we can mail it to you, so just write back and get us your address.

Tell your mom and dad, tell your grandma and aunts and friends that love you that they can get a copy HERE!: http://rawpawshop.com/collections/raw-paw-zine/products/raw-paw-vol-6-alien

HOPE TO SEE YOU ON SATURDAY!

Love,
Raw Paw

Shrieks of Paradise, Correspondence&Rails#18: “Ain’t it good to be workin.”

In Being A Writer on December 16, 2014 at 1:41 pm

Jim Trainer
709 Rio Grande Street
Austin, TX 78701
512-203-6288

Editor
Raw Paw, The PLOG

10/15/14

Hello!

I am excited to pitch for your consideration as contributor and columnist for the PLOG. I am a 39 year old blogger, journalist, published poet, singer-songwriter and ex-Pat punkrocker.

When I started blogging, I simply wanted to exercise my columnist’s voice. I put myself on deadline. I forced myself to come up with 1,200 words, neat and fine, every day. With the advent of social media, it seemed that immediacy could supersede objectivity. I was thrilled. We could in fact become the media. I could write from where I was at, like all my journalistic and literary heroes had done.
Creative non-fiction was always where it was at for me, but I had no idea of the fount of inspiration I would uncover in the blogosphere. Here was a medium which I needn’t offer an introduction to the reader. I needed no back story and the main character was me. This was a boon to my writing. The fourth wall had come down for me as well. I would never have writer’s block again.

Current themes at Going For The Throat have been (but are not limited to): being a writer, the creative process, day labor, the struggles of sensitivity, rock and roll, current events/politics and literary criticism along with poetry and prose.

Topics pertaining to breaking through, pushing past your limits and getting to a place of habitual expression could be of great value to writers, would be writers, creatives and anyone seeking creative expression. Obviously this type of content would not be time-sensitive. I believe it would largely be adult content. While I never censor myself on my own blog, I am quite open to editing and creative input. As such, I’ve cleaned up the language in some of the samples offered below and offered them as published and in their entirety in the links as well.

I’ve had success supporting my posts with photos from Instagram. Facebook has been the main source of traffic to my site. I am always looking for ways to build and enhance my aesthetic, however. My grand vision is to be full-on, a one stop shop containing all forms of media. In the meantime I couldn’t be happier that I can continue to write on an electric typewriter and just snap a photo to present to the digital world.

Thank you for the opportunity to pitch this; and to the wonderful David Jewell for putting Raw Paw on my radar. I look forward to hearing from you and reading future issues of Raw Paw.

Jim Trainer
Austin, TX

attached&pasted below:

excerpts and links from

-13 DAYS
https://jimtrainer.wordpress.com/2014/06/23/13-days/
-On Poetry
https://jimtrainer.wordpress.com/2014/05/06/on-poetry/
-Interview with 1349
http://www.verbicidemagazine.com/2010/11/30/interview-1349/
-I HATE ROCK AND ROLL
https://jimtrainer.wordpress.com/2011/01/31/creamsugar
-Kingdom Found

https://jimtrainer.wordpress.com/2012/08/17/kingdom-found/
-Don Bajema’s Hero
http://www.philadelphiastories.org/don-bajema%E2%80%99s-hero
untitled (a poem)
https://jimtrainer.wordpress.com/2014/09/11/untitled-3/