Jim Trainer

Posts Tagged ‘texas state’

Return of the King

In Being A Writer, Writing on June 10, 2014 at 6:10 pm

This post is brought to you by Weezer’s first album, a bottle of Guilhem White and hash oil. Too much hash oil, in fact, but I had been drinking when I loaded up my ecig with the stuff. I couldn’t be sure if I was high so I kept smoking it and now-this. Christ. It’s the opposite of paranoia, but why should I be paranoid? All of my dreams have come true. I’m down here in Paradise listening to rock&roll and drinking wine. Everything is fine.

Everything is fine? Are you fucking kidding me?

There was a time, brothers&sisters, when everything was NOT fine, and we beat back the hammer of night with drugs and madness and we drove too fast and there was never too great a risk and we did not fear death. Although we probably should have, in that hostile city and at that time, at the end of the American Century. But ultimately it has only made our love strong and redoubled our faith in the God of Luck. He ain’t failed us yet. I mean, shit. How ya like me now? Living in the Last Confederate Governor of the U.S.’ old place, in the Live Music Capital of the World?
Let’s just say that my worries are few and my joys are many.
The last 4 days in Hostile City were incredible. I did an On The Hill Session with stellar musicians Mark Furman and Phil Dagostino the day after I flew in from Hippie Town. Then I blew the doors off Melodie’s Cafe the following night. Saturday I read with incredible writer Don Bajema and wonderful poet Charlie O’Hay. Sunday night I got stood up at the airport. My ride was lost in daydrinking and thought that as a “rockstar” I could just “get a cab”; but instead I was picked up by the lovely Courtney Bell. She drove me home for whiskeys at the Star Bar and I slept all day today. Only to wake up and swoop into this evening like a bat, turn it out and bring it back for you pretty babies, oh good&cherished Reader.

What can I say? All of my dreams have come true. And life is good.

Except that I am due to appear at Texas State on Friday, presenting myself to faculty and attempting to explain to them why I write, how I got my start and how they might better serve and inspire their students when it comes to their desire, or lack thereof, to write.
What could I possibly have to share with them?
That my writing was the only way out, and the only way in?
That I tried to break out the President XII and etch some poetry out of the savage dark and blue-black ink of a quiet Spring night working as a caregiver? And that it didn’t work and I am instead penning this missive to you, wine drunk and stoned to the gills?

I mean, if you’re still around (like I am) at this late stage of the game, pushing 40 and tempting death, and you can still sit here and crank out 800 words while jamming Monster Magnet-if you can still host your own party, long after you’ve given up on the lot of them-shit, that is winning. What else?

According to my calculations I’ve got at least 10 more years of good living attempting to execute pure writing. I should certainly be able to bring it all back home for you and the faculty of Texas State on Friday.

Am I right, Brother?
Let’s take our crown and win awhile. We earned this.

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