JIM TRAINER'S POEM OF THE WEEK FEATURED IN BOOK OF MATCHES LITERARY JOURNAL
Come Celebrate With Personal Journalist Jim Trainer That Every Day Something Has Tried To Kill Him And Has Failed
The plot that connects these sequences is preposterous, of course, but reasonably easy to follow. —Justin Chang
A serious person should try to write posthumously.
—African Nobel Laureate Nadine Gordimer
Fuck all of that.
—E.D. Watson
It’s monthly-ask time down at the Office, never easy, but increasingly necessary as the boot of empire is always only inches offa me. Don’t parlay or try to mess my mind. The recession called. Art is no longer free.
Speaking of free, thank you for your messages and calls, your lunches and hugs. Rest assured your boy is ok and living to tell the tale.
“Funnily” enough, I had to suffer some tone-policing on my message recently. It smacks of the Year of the Rat don’t it, and the Whiteboy Summer of 2020 when I was let go the non-profit for publishing something as honest as wanting to die.
Ain’t my first suicidal-ideation summer and anyway “COME HERE OFTEN” prompted said contact with your Writer—and we laughed down burgers at Kinda Tropical, and wondered if anyone would ever read us (in this lifetime or the next) on street corners of the internet as we blew smoke in the alveolused face of the critic.
God may be love but Jesus is CORP ain’t it and anyway and as per usual form overtakes function when dealing with the plebeian mind. I don’t mind, it’s why I’m out here bleeding the motif, appealing to images of the goddess and betting on the muse.
We'll live to see stranger things than our own mortality in the Anthropocene. Jim Trainer loves you.
Here’s to what is and was and could and just might, with a little magic, be,
TRAINER
AUSTIN TX
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Pissing In The Press Pool to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.