30.6.09

NEW JOURNAL THAT IS REAL FOR LOOKING AT

martin wall and me started a journal. it is called TWITTER 666. the journal is a collection of links to twitter accounts for objects and people that otherwise wouldn't have a twitter account. if you want to write a twitter feed, even if it just one or two posts, email twitter666@gmail.com and describe the idea. we want to have as much shitty shit up as possible and as frequently as possible. i asked blake butler to start an account for AN EMPTY HOUSE, like so he could write about all the weird shit that goes on inside. see how fucking fun this shit is? email the idea and if it is just shitty enough, we will set up the account and you can write the shit out it. so far, here are the feeds:

A_KLANSMAN

A CREEPY OLD MAN AT THE PARK (WHO IS NOT WEARING A SHIRT)


A_BIG_SANDWICH

A_PRESS-ON_NAIL

26.6.09

I GIVE MYSELF A HEADACHE BY LOOKING AT MYSELF REAL CLOSE IN A MIRROR

i just started a twitter account. it is here. the user is A BIG SANDWICH. so now you can keep up with what is happening to A BIG SANDWICH in real time. i am going to start and cancel random twitter accounts now, for something to do. like, i think my next one will be either A KLANSMAN (example post: i need to be more positive) or A CREEPY OLD MAN AT PARK, NOT WEARING A SHIRT (example post: just stared at girl and then said something to myself and laughed, tooth fell out). maybe it will be fun. i will post when i change them. another example: A PRESS-ON NAIL example post: still stuck in some guy's eye. have a nice weekend everyone. is it ok to sometimes see your own hands and jump back because you're afraid someone is trying to choke you?

23.6.09

NEGATIVE HEARTTHROB!








DON'T GET TO KNOW ANYONE. DON'T BE O.K.

andy riverbed reads TODAY I HOPE A BUS ACCIDENTALLY KILLS ME, in spanish, over some acoustic guitar. pretty bad ace. go here.

19.6.09

ONE TIME I DRANK HALF A BOTTLE OF PINE SOL BECAUSE I THOUGHT IT WOULD KILL ME

i just emailed the final draft of THE SELF ESTEEM HOLOCAUST COMES HOME to SIX GALLERY PRESS.

i am wearing a golf shirt that i found underneath some couch cushions yesterday. i shook the crumbs off it and put it on. i thought with sincere sadness for a second about all the shirts i've lost and totally forgotten about. you are with me shirts.

since the age of sixteen, every day i have the feeling that things are over.

i have a pretty nice beard now, it drips when i get out of the shower.

very hopeless lately. i don't have a job. i sleep late and then draw until the morning, talking to myself. i think yesterday is the first time i realized i talk to myself nonstop.

would it be lame to start a cereal corner on this blog where i analyze various cereals and their mascots? including imagined knife fights between the mascots?

does anyone in chicago have a job i could have? i am thinking janitor. i just want to be left alone. i dont' want to smile at anyone while making them a sandwich.

read this post by shane jones.

he says something i've been thinking for a long time. that unless you are an idiot (my words), publishing things changes nothing. you'll still be a scared human being hoping for something to change you without having to do much.

last night while i was drawing other people at the apartment were watching some american pie movie about a beach-house and they were mocking it. i kept imagining every character with a gun in their mouth and then their head exploding. that would make a great ending to a teen movie like that. like, surf guitar music comes in and then everyone shrugs and goes, "summer's over and so are our lives!" and then domino suicides, blood all over the beach.

i think i am in bad mood because i haven't had cereal yet.

i only sleep in hour long bursts now. the worst feeling ever is waking up.

26 will be the year of more drifting.

this laptop is burning my genitals.

i'm ready to love someone but i am too helpless.

i was at a wedding the other day and a girl standing at the bar, looked at me and then turned around and lifted her skirt a little so i could see her ass. i should've said, "so what?"

i would like it if the first half of your life you could have all the nights you will ever have, right in a row, and then the second half you could get all the days in a row.

16.6.09

GETTING SHOT IN THE EYE WITH AN ARROW PROBABLY WON'T HAPPEN TO ME

HERE IS THE COVER I HANDMADE FOR "FROWNS NEED FRIENDS TOO." (IF YOU CLICK ON IT, THE MAGICAL COMPUTER BOX MAKES IT BIGGER)



ALSO, A LOT OF PEOPLE ARE MAKING VIDEOS FOR THE POEMS NOW. IF YOU STILL WANT TO, EMAIL ME.

15.6.09

GOD BLESS AMERICA

right now i could get shot in the chest and face many many times and still not die.

READ THIS LONG ASS INTERVIEW WITH CHRIS HIGGS

RIGHT HERE.

here's a rap i just made up about chris higgs:

chris higgs, slams mad chicks with the tip of his academic dick, known to open up A THOUSAND PLATEAUS and take justa sip, tip back his serious looking glasses, makin other thinkers look like molasses, he ponders queries/disquisitions with synapses blasting elastic, fuck getting drastic, dat honky higgs clashes and gnashes, and he ain't from the street, he's in the street, knee-deep like Guattari in some Paris concrete, y'herrd?

i have no friends.

14.6.09

I CAN ONLY GET ALONG WITH ONE PERSON AT A TIME

the person i picked for the calaveras journal thing (see below) is martin wall. his poems made me feel the most. the other poems were good and i feel like a dick. picking and judging are weird things. if you want to say hateful things in the comment thread, that will help us both. anyway, i will start posting videos of poems pretty soon (see this link for explanation). if you still want to read a poem from FROWNS NEED FRIENDS TOO, email me and i will send you one to read. then i'll post it here. i'll post the cover i made too. hopefully the publisher likes it. i used mario three colors. chex party mix is really good. it's like, every time i scoop out a handful and go to put it in my mouth, i go, "it's fucking party time." does anyone in chicago want to do readings? like, they don't have to be at an actual place. like, if you want me to come to your apartment and read, i'll do it. you can film it and i will do it. i can come into your roommate's room while s/he is sleeping and just start reading. wouldn't that be fun? i can hide in the fridge and when someone gets a drink i will just start reading. i will read while you take a shower. readings usually suck and are boring, so i think this could be cool. you can hit me with a belt while i am reading. or throw flour at me. you can spray me with champagne while i read. come on. don't be a pussy.

UPDATE: i put a really long interview with chris higgs on htmlgiant.

ANOTHER UPDATE: i just noticed i got some more ratings on GOODREADS. fuck man, a few more five star ratings and i'll be able to unlock the saphire sword and slay the golden dragon in the ice level! here's a review that actually made me happy.

by mike kleine:

I began reading a random page out loud and everyone in the room made faces. At first, they asked me if it was something I had written but then I replied with an amused "no," stating that it was a work from Sam Pink. Then, they asked me "who the fuck is Sam Pink?" I told them that "Sam Pink is a new author I'm trying out."

I read a couple more excerpts and every single friend (three of them in the room at the time) asked if they could borrow the book after me. I said yes but know I will never give it to them because I need to frame it above my headboard, after I video-tape my face so I can put that on a loop at the foot of my bed


sort of made me think for three seconds i wasn't a fucking loser (until i noticed i could actually smell my pubes through my pants, from not showering).

happy hannukah everyone!

11.6.09

EXPRESSIONLESS DISGUST IS MY NATIONALITY

a while ago i was solicited by the journal MARY. i sent some poems and was rejected but one of the editors, sara mumolo, said she was starting a print journal (CALAVERAS) and she wanted the poems. then she emailed me and told me that the first issue will be both people they solicit and then people those people solicit. meaning, i have to pick someone to be in the issue too. so i don't know how to do this without being labeled a "piece of toilet paper that was used to wipe the shit off a dick that just fucked an ass that had already been fucked." so i guess if people want to email me like, four poems (they want to publish mulitple poems by each author), from now until like, sunday night, i will take them and pick somebody. or i will post them here and have people pick them. i don't know. but if you send me poems by sunday night, i guess you could be included in the journal, which will be hand bound and probably nice looking. and maybe our shit will be next to each other so when someone closes the book it's like we're smashing genitals together!

sidenote: if i am ever given the death penalty, i want it to be by "canon filled with nails."

UPDATE: ANDY RIVERBED TRANSLATED TWO POEMS, "I AM GOING TO JUMPKICK YOUR FACE THEN KISS IT" AND AN EXCERPT FROM "YUM YUM I CAN'T WAIT TO DIE." NOW YOU CAN READ OK POETRY IN SPANISH.

9.6.09

"I AIN'T LEAVIN' ON NO HOE SHIT"

somebody has offered to publish FROWNS NEED FRIENDS TOO. will talk more later. had to take it down. i feel like an asshole but maybe this will be cooler? i get to design the book. please still like me. if anyone wants some of the poems email me. otherwise, i'm going to be listening to the song "fake empire" by the national and pouting like a little bitch.

also, working on prophylactic-ripping interview with chris higgs. will be on htmlgiant sometime in the near future. read his blog. it always makes me happy to read. i think the first thing that drew me to his blog was like, a profile picture of him that i saw, and i was like, "he looks like he could take a serious shot to the jaw."

also, what is this?

4.6.09

I CAN STILL SMELL YOUR FACE AND HEAD ON THE PILLOW AND I'M A CRYBABY

HTMLGIANT is going to be revamped soon and they wanted pictures from each of the contributors. here are some pictures i took. feel free to make fun of me. i am doing it inside i promise. i provided some reactions to each shot.

PICTURE THE FIRST



ok. this one seems to say, "hey, lace up those boots homey, because i found a good face for kicking." looking off into the distance, truly, this greasy headed douche needs to be killed. viewers of this photo may be prone to thinking, "maybe i am pro-choice."


PICTURE THE SECOND




oh here we are. this one fully captures the, "i'm always tired" look. truly, a fucking douche.

PICTURE THE THIRD



with this one we grow ever closer to finding out what an accident looks like. viewers needn't even know that the person in the photograph was born to a young mother, and was clearly an accident, because it's clear here. very clear. viewers may be prone to immediately imagining the doctor holding some sort of giant pencil, with a giant eraser, and erasing this smudge from the earth's repertoire.


please feel free to print these and wipe your ass with them. peace.

3.6.09

WET PUSSY

yo yo yo. just real quick. FROWNS NEED FRIENDS TOO is posted in its entirety below. but somebody told me it was hard to print. if you want me to email it to you, i will. other than that fuck off. also do blurbs matter? i tried to get brian evenson to blurb the book of plays and he said he would except he doesn't do blurbs over the summer. he was trill cool about it though. next attempt: james patterson.

1.6.09

HEY WHAT'S UP

i posted the prose poetry book FROWNS NEED FRIENDS TOO below this post. i am glad to just get rid of it. maybe it sucks, i can't tell, i've read it too much. i am proud of the titles though. maybe just read the titles. the book consoles me though. whenever i write something i think about trying to write a personal bible. this one seems like my personal bible. i suck. it's what remains of YUM YUM I CAN"T WAIT TO DIE (like three lines) and other lines i wrote while writing CLONE. i finished the book of plays today and will send it out soon. the blog header is the cover. i think i really like the book of plays. it was hard work. it took two years. i keep thinking that no one will like it because i like it so much. it actually has things in it like that, make sense when added up. who cares. i am eating a granola bar and a little piece of it fell between some keys. i had to use a pen-tip and my finger to get it out. at a certain point i thought, "rick moranis" while i was doing it. i hope everyone is doing good. i will be dead before i am thirty. that is a promise. i am 26 now. i'm definitely worthless. it just seems really sad that i was born. not trying to be all goth and shit. i just really hate myself. i think people that really hate themselves know it's not fun. does anyone want to make a children's book with me? like, as in publish it. i think i can draw it and make a story. i am glad to be done with these books. maybe i'll finish something new. or maybe i will move to the woods and shoot my head into a crock pot. does anyone in chicago want to sit on a lawnchair with me and watch people walk passed? email me please. it's ok if you don't read the book i posted. i don't blame you. maybe print it out and read it, maybe that would be easier. does anyone need a bassist/drummer/singer for a really hardcore band? i am good at those things. we can write a song called, "FUCK YOU AND YOUR BAGEL, YOU DIPSHIT." wouldn't that be fun? huh wouldn't it? ok i am done. i hope everyone is ok. manic depression. it's fun. remember the song "let the bodies hit the floor?" i want to drink a forty and smash it against my head while that is playing. i understand if no one likes me. i think you should only post comments here if they are hateful. nobody likes you. i am growing a beard now. my beard is blood red when the sun hits it. bye everyone.