cj

meebo was a chat client for the android

my friend's wife wakes up at 4am to pick lint up off the floor

his grandson is a 14 year old who makes thousands of dollars

reselling the latest nikes he buys him on the internet

this was a dream

Two ballers perch

in a tree, the shoulder

holes fit perfectly

around the wings.

Haslam attacks Jeremy

and you stretch out your

sleeve and tattoo

The first thing I do

when I leave the office

is look at the sky.

you saw it sit

near a player piano

and stare at the floor,

bleary eyed methane

rising from the arctic

permafrost saturates

the gauze wrapped

potato 

elija wood on netflix

the boss emailed asking if all the lens shammies disappeared. for the most part they all disappeared. i missed the 10:21am by 5 seconds. the next train at 10:40-something-am stopped locally. a local train downtown connected to the crosstown to the west side where a cvs sat on top of the subterranean terminal, inside an old bank building. they had boxes of swifter dust clothes. a hasty crowd stuff a grocery store across the avenue. twice through the kitchen cleaning accessories section. twice. the second time a box of clothes on the top shelf. the box yeilded several clothes folded and sealed clothes and waited in line. some people were inconsiderate to one another. one lady made a strange man put his items in a basket. i walked to my office on 9th avenue. sean had his dogs in eng. i did some things for some small gear. i worked in the room until 8pm. then i punched out and walked to my hotel room. it was raining very hard and it was hot. there was garbage in a drain and slowing the water flow. some bars were open. people were in the diner on 23rd and 9th. two foreign sounding accent women checked me in at the chelsea savoy. i took off my rain gear in the room. took a shit and went back downstairs for ice. i drank two 24 oz cans of beer and watched storm coverage. there was lightning outside. it seemed to be raining a little harder. i took a shower and walked back to the station around 10:45 pm. i gave eric the other key to my hotel room. christian left and i covered the room for the next few hours. sean left for his hotel room and returned around ~2 am. it started leaking in the room after sean left. gerry showed up around 3am. michael dudley returned. around 5am i went to my boss’s hotel room. i slept for 3 hours. it seemed not bad outside. i walked to the station and howie and sean were bringing food downstairs. i helped them carry food down to the car. i dried off. around 10 am gerry said that howie was stuck in a puddle. we went and pushed howie out of the puddle. we shot some sound of like a british kid or something. i ate the free lunch which was sandwiches. sean drove me home.

peter lanza's dinosaur dig blog

i hate my job for long stretches of weeks

i believe it is someone else's fault

the bosses boss talks with howie

in the room and the rains beat heavily

at the windows the photo album came

out for the third time

is soup a meal?

I drank more than one cup of coffee. Ride to trail head over an hour.

I'm able to pee and fart as we begin hiking through the forest.

Up on the side of the mountain we cross several slides

and look up and down into the clouds of mist funneling

through the hallway of trees.

It's misty and blowy all day, clouds passing right in front of us

and consuming us.

Sun warmed our backs as we ate

on the north side of the summit

looking down hundreds of feet into clear blue

lakes a catwalk stuffed with slinks across

to a sharp pinnacle, it passes in and out of the white whisps

mosquito lands on my thigh

a chipmunk aggressively darts towards

our lunch and quickly escapes under the large boulders

the col below the final stretch

looks like an alpine lagoon

solitary pines floating in the haze

among random mirror pools pressed into

the long alpine grass

eating huckleberries in the fields

1st draft

What's up, how are you? I guess I have your email address, I hope it's still relevant. 

Since I consider your worldly adventures and benevolent nature particularly valuable in my current situation (and likely in many others), I've typed you this little synopsis to my crisis. 

Have you heard of the Live Below the Line thing? You know, the Hugh Jackman poverty challenge. Well apparently it's my favorite thing and I am now an active participant. Well..when creating a participant profile my whimsical philanthropy swooped in and partnered me with the first charity to hold expensive self-congratulating banquets, feed Sting's hot yoga addiction and organize messy rock concerts sponsored by evil, bottled-water companies. Have you heard of the Rainforest Foundation (the US Chapter)? Could you reverse my distrust? Are they an organization you'd work for? I'm all worked up: is living below the line, more like living behind the veil, with a pyramid of scheming charities on the other side? Or am I in the second stage of someone on the verge of elevating of billions of starving people out of poverty; skepticism? Do I need to personally refund my two friends, luckily my only two UNlucky donating victims so fa? 

Well I guess maybe I'm overreacting; rainforestfoundation.org is a pretty website with smart slogans and their .com counterpart makes a lot of good points when discrediting them. I've consulted charitynavigator.com and not all the other LBL partners are listed, like the The Global Poverty Project, which launched the LBL campaign a few years ago.

My main dilemma is I have to ask people to support something and I'm not sure if I'm fully in support of myself, all the while I wasn't even expecting this to be part of the challenge. Would you feel comfortable recommending any of the other partners found here on this page: https://www.livebelowtheline.com/us-en-partners

Gran would probably give me money to buy a loaded Bazooka rocket launcher if I wanted. When I told her about the challenge even she eluded to the corruptness of such charities. She has donated to charities for years without drawing attention to herself and I know you and your side of the family may do so as well. So maybe that's the only way of avoiding this affliction, but then I can't physically channel the anguish of malnutrition. 

Number 2

What's up, how are you? I guess I have your email address, I hope it's still relevant. 

I wanted to ask you about charities and stuff. I created a participant profile on the Live Below the Line fundraising campaign website. You know, Hugh Jackman's poverty challenge. Anyway how it works is, though maybe you know already, I pledge to live for five days on a diet of whatever no more than $1.50 per day can afford me while my supporter's donations are channeled to a charity that helps alleviate extreme poverty, the crisis afflicting our world population as represented by the $1.50 a day. I think reading about animal rights and vegetarianism has made me vulnerable to this idea of sacrificial fundraising. I didn't realize though that I'd have to select my own partner charity to receive the donations of my supporters. This kind of made me skeptical of the whole campaign. I chose the Rainforest Foundation because, get this, I like forests. I mean I've never even been to a rain forest. So now as my campaign drags on and I do a little after the fact research I'm finding it difficult to raise funds for something I can't fully support. I pulled up their wikipedia and checked out their charitynavigation.com entry. Maybe if I had randomly selected a different charity I wouldn't be in this dilemma. Part of me is still all about this. If you even have any idea what I'm talking, a small bit of your wisdom might help tip my sudden indecision one way or the other. Here's the list of their other partners on their website: https://www.livebelowtheline.com/us-en-partners Maybe one of those charities has a cleaner track record that you can speak to. Ok, enough of my uneducated ramblings. 

Don't feel obligated come up with an answer for me, especially if you have no idea what I'm talking about.

Ok. Heard from Gran you had fun visiting the east coast. Hit me up next time you might be in town.

Best,

Miles

3^rd and final

What's up, how are you? I guess I have your email address, I hope it's still relevant. 

I wanted to ask you about charities and stuff. I created a participant profile on the Live Below the Line fundraising campaign website. You know, Hugh Jackman's poverty challenge. Anyway how it works is, though maybe you know already, I pledge to live for five days on a diet of whatever no more than $1.50 per day can afford me. Those who supporter my pledge donate to a charity that helps alleviate extreme poverty, the category defined by a percentage of the world population surviving on less than $1.50 a day. Not expecting to have to select a partner I chose hastily. This kind of made me skeptical of the whole campaign at first, but now I'm feeling even more unbalanced. I'm faced with convincing friends to support the Rainforest Foundation. In doing the research I should have done before this vital partnership began, I've learned of their not so great history. Could you help reverse my sudden distrust or lead me down a better path? I'm aware of charitynavigator.com and I've done some other research on the other charities, but I felt that none of it could amount to what I suspect you might know already. Or maybe not. Anyway here is the list of the other partners: https://www.livebelowtheline.com/us-en-partners 

Do you see a better charity? Do you think this whole campaign not so good?

Best,

Miles

Ps - heard about your trip out east, hit me up if you are ever back in the city!

the osprey's stop at kensington

how am i going to start this
with mention of haitians looting.
intense-faced iceskaters breathing deeply
the karma drizzles out of their mugs
the rinsed bottles gobble spirits, soul.
he chopped mushrooms.
a transparent gull hangs on a string
in the rays. the setting sun
commences in the garden.
i'm making everything worse
their chemical families extinguish 
in radiant tugs at the concrete quilt.

aboriginals greet the king with a smoke ceremony.
protesters demonstrate diminishing bears in Pyrenees.

emotional rescue workers use muscles intensely to lift collapsed church.
a wedding ceremony sifts through a dense fog in India.

8th grade calculous teacher's desk tilts drastically.
EPGFZ shears the Ganova plate, accretes with the North American plate.

Strike slip faults produce events occasionally.
large pools of information well up like bogs.

i feel emotionally lost emotionally.
he's a gilded soul bored to death

he actually became so bored
he died, what a fate

everything is too obvious for methe real questions elude me

the fat systems manager controls the aimless html-knowledgeable blacks

i watched The Road
and i felt like i needed to act less emotional
but not sure to what level i act emotional now

do i need to go through what you've put yourself through?
i can't get these people
to shut up about how they really feel

i value a person for their looks
but alot of them are stupid
and get away with it

put the simpsons on
fell asleep
woke up at 2am
thought about them taking away
our house
briefly, instantly
life seemed suspended, unattached to other things
a thought and a grid of thoughts
connected by minds
when you slept your sleep
was weighted by death
and your bones are they heaviest
part of you
you sort of fall from
or falls away from you
appreciating people is a weakness
her nervous moons remind me
the work will never end
as i gaze upwards leaning on my rake
why do we continue to grope
in this kind of fog

let us get let down inside
by the fires
let's let language let us down
easily the way we know people to actually use
it and by the actual people
we know who use language
not the people who have been using it
not sure
there was another idea i had that i wanted to write
then i knew i had to write the idea from the beginning of this

'is he trying to get you back'
'yeah'
'are you trying to get me back'
'no'
'i am getting a bad wrap, don't you see that.'
'yeah. i know.'
open house. tries to steal xmas presents.
does slow equate to bad?
this is fucking boring.
i want you guys to call me
i am moving to new orleans
there's just going to be an actor there


feel asleep though i have copied myself
and i have not generated an essential element
what i like to find most interesting
sometimes i want not what i want
because i think i will feel bad her razors
have written some things
someone has said some things
and i feel i should be more productive.
i am not a product of people i like.
people ate my job they seem more a product of me
they seem to change less every day light
i change more days everyday
everyday i dissolve a little more
i have less time in my watch
i have less time to compete with my goals
there seems to be a underlying phone in frustration
when some little rings come inconveniently
a small hole opens and a little brandy of disappoint
i associate with you seeps up into molecular dust currents.
i am adjusting because my butt is filled with poop.
i cannot understand this thought vial 
language comes directly out of my body.

normally i feel that the thing that does the most efficient work is the most aesthetically pleasing
it seems like the thing that does the most efficient work is no regularly the first thing i try
or the thing that is receiving the action is the thing that should be giving the action
and i need to invest in all new things
or i should combine them
but i only want to do that in limited fashion
i keep doing this one thing
you have never seen me so emphatic about something
it seems i am always doing it and i don't even think about deciding that it's the best thing to do
even for the interest of itself.

vhs cassettes in the white plastic sit on the shelf
i like Bambi, Pinocchio, and the sword in the stone
we walk around and look at piles of clothes.
we see coffee in our cups.
i have not signed into my last fm account in a year.
my family is having a new years party.

they are the mourning they mourn.
seems bitter sweet or something.
this is how it happens eh.
it felt good.
they say he loved, fishing, dixieland, scotch, Seinfeld, and sculpture.
snare and guitar.
they presented cakes, lasagna, and cookies. we ate salad, and steak.
his recordings played as they
took him away.
his last trip down the driveway
in the middle of christmas morning.
they cried near the vacant house.
the house stayed warm for a while
after they shut off the heat.
a light stayed on. we wore blankets
everywhere.
the air around it seemed smooth.
the grass stuck up in a perpetual gust.
all the time she spent caring for the house.
you couldn't speak to the house.
two times it reached very bad states
the second the last state.
the message goes out
about the gone house.
it's not the kind of loss you think.
i found a sweet mp3 online.
should i say something to the house
or to the people looking at the house.
a friend will eulogize the house.
strangers will arrive.
they organize a bittersweet party.
i was made to think this wouldn't happen.
the dance in the living room happened. 
they dropped me off at the train
and i sat in the desk at work.
here i am.
they burned the house
and gave it back to us.
the dwelling is ultimately lost to us.
it is in town, or on the way to town
breaking the glassy surface out on the lake.
we all do what we want to do.
people are trying to do and say the things they want to.
people seemed still. people tried to move around.
to do actions. we sat and were completely idle for minutes.
joy got some cash though, for sticking by the house.
these normal people are strange and deep
and it's no credit to their character either.
don't know what to say to them.
or what they want me to say.
still will talk to them.

*

i feel consumed by her. if i could, after only a few sentences, i'd try to tell her i loved her.
sometimes a smell will consume me upon arrival. the way she'd stand for mystical the ideas mysteriously churning over the fire of her soul. the way she must know herself. sometimes the smell of her vagina.
it's been a great life almost 29 years.
no one conceives my lies for me. 

*

have you ever been to a concert for free?

does the music sound better?

you can ask for two free cups of tap water at two boots

in grand central, they sell bottled water though.

imagine all the conflicts that can arise from that

there's also a restaurant next to two boots

and you can kind of see the tvs above the bar and bar area

while you wait for your slices

i can only imagine yankees playing

and cano pitching but you can't see

the whole screens cano plays 2nd

at white planes train station

the left lane is the drop off lane.

life is a carnival, says the band

i'm just trying to find out the shit i need to know about. 

how long does the effects of pot last, really not long enough for the price.

the last time i bought pot it was the fall

and the guy said next time he'd come to the bar i was at

instead of the way the deal did go down

a lot of people are anonymous and the youtubes

and facebooks of the world yeah, i guess they don't like that

safeco field is right next to the football stadium and they're both pretty close

to seattle's talest buildings also it's all one big seaport

we could use these stadiums for antique fairs and gun shows and stuff

we can use the tall buildings to see far

 

to night train

night train you are better than day train you

you are awesome like night train

the movie with danny glover 

steve zahn and leelee sobieski

people spit in you you are express

usually i'm not sure you are sometimes

only local or quasi express or local
your windows are mirrors

it's sad and quiet in you

you show me the river, the ice chunked

freezing river but 

mostly you are a mirror

to my sadness and my self-pity

i try and write and read in you

but it's easier to play a game

listen to music or tweet and text
there's an empty subway cup in you

i ride backwards in you

your ticket collector is vacant

unshaven and polite in an angry way

the drunk people are gone for a few days

the weekend is over you are only express

so steady no worries of sunshine

inside of you you are taking me 

to the city to my home away from 

home in the hell of the city

the starry landscape shifts

in your windows a half moon

watches you you night train

you are express or local

you are dirty and in the city's 

bowels where time doesn't matter

and it feels like home