three things

1. had a dream andrew weatherhead and i were taking turns sledding down a small rocky hill on a fastfood bag. 

2. also, jumping off a building seems attractive to me right now.   jumping off a building:  this fall's hot new way to die?  

3. yesterday i unselfconsciously used the phrase "hey, what the" when i found a shirt i'd forgotten about.  


i have to buy a train ticket for the tour next month. if anyone wants to buy drawings or whatever, email me.  i'm trying to raise money.  sampinkisalive@gmail.com
kelly schirmann and i made four songs.  she's the singer.  i think we're going to put up a bandcamp but if anyone wants to help make physical copies, or knows what to do, let me know and i'll send you the songs.




when someone's talking to you, after a little bit, grab his/her shoulder and say, "well, those are some interesting thoughts on [whatever person was talking about]."


movie called "security deposit" where it's about some people trying to make sure they get their security deposit back from an "evil" landlord.


i was interviewed

glad to see the bathtub photos hitting the mainstream 

also, here are the dates, locations, people, and times for the readings in september

9.27.12 | Columbus, OH | READING / THE OHIOANS @ Skylab Gallery | 11PM | w/ Sam Pink, Scott McClanahan, Jordan Castro, Mallory Whitten, James Payne

9.28.12 | Louisville, KY @ Second Story Books | w/ Sam Pink, Scott McClanahan, Jordan Castro, Mallory Whitten

9.29.12 | Indianapolis, IN | READING @ Indy Reads Books | w/ Sam Pink, Scott McClanahan, , Jordan Castro, Mallory Whitten, Amber Sparks, Sal Pane, Bryan Furuness

9.30.12 | Chicago, IL | READING @ 1925 N. Whipple St. | 7PM | w/ Sam Pink, Scott McClanahan, Jordan Castro, Mallory Whitten, Andrew Colville, Evan Swenson



here's a one star review of "you hear ambulance sounds and think they are for you." 

"This book was not at all what I expected. It was recommended as I searched for books related to depression and anxiety... not sure what the connection could have been for this particular recommendation. It was a series of disconnected, random statements organized in chapters. I also could have done without the occasional obscenities. I was disappointed."
just recently heard the song "hard in da paint" for the first time.

i like it except for the end where he keeps going "waka, waka flocka etc."

sometimes right before i take a sip of coffee, i hear the part of the song where before the beat drops he says "i go hard in motherfucking puh puh puh paint..." then i sip the coffee. 

there's a guy in the tunnel between the red line and blue line here in chicago that sets up a big keyboard everyday and plays beats like the one in "hard in da paint."  he just stands there making beats with a cigarette in his mouth.  we always make eye contact and do a little nod. 

also, usually before a reading, in my head i hear "claim my shit"  by l.e.p. bogus boys.  here is that song:

like i'll be at the bar getting water and i'll be saying "thank you" to the bartender, but i'm hearing "i wish you would try to claim my shit." 

sept 27:  columbus, ohio
sept 28: louisville, kentucky
sept 29: indianapolis, indiana
sept 30: chicago, illinois


deeply troubled

here is a review of "clone"  and "the collected works of scott mc clanahan."  

also, had an idea for a feminine napkin commercial where it starts with a woman holding her stomach and the narrator says, "You know the feeling..." and then they zoom in on the woman's stomach and inside, a little shapeless object in army clothing stands at attention and salutes and says, "Major Cramps reporting for duty sir."

lastly, i feel like a good ending to a short story/novel/anything would be  "...and then everything else that ever happens, happens." 


FROWNS NEED FRIENDS TOO will be out again soon. 

sept 27th-30th i'll be reading in ohio, kentucky, indiana and chicago, with scott mc clanahan and jordan castro. 

if anyone wants to buy drawings off me, email me   sampinkisalive@gmail.com     all the drawings two posts below this one are for sale.  RENT MONEY

just turned my head and looked out the window and stared for almost a minute. 

heard more gunshots by my place last night than i've heard all other nights combined. 

this summer i had food poisoning, sun poisoning and poison ivy.  just thought, "yeah now how about some REAL poison, son." 

have a nice day everyone. 


just imagined middle-aged "cool guy" named gene walking into a party and saying, "you hear they found the gene for alcoholism" and points both thumbs at himself. 



jereme dean reminded me about corrales vs castillo.  this is the last round of a fucking sweet ass fight. 


i just got a copy of the new I AM GOING TO CLONE MYSELF THEN KILL THE CLONE AND EAT IT.   it looks really nice. 


i wrote two things.

one is a novel called RONTEL.  it takes place in a 36 hour period.  it's an odyssey.  preview:  another book about being a grown up with mental problems in chicago.  perhaps evidence the author is washed up?  just saying.   

the other is a collection of really short stories/"flash" fiction. it's called GERALD MC CLELLAN VS NIGEL BENN, i think.  i'm going to publish it myself.  i'm going to print it out and bind it.  it'll only be available through me.  preview:  it's not that good!    no i'm kidding.  it's decent.    

i have a lot of drawings to scan and post too.

if anyone knows of any dishwashing jobs in chicago, email me    sampinkisalive@gmail.com 

if anyone in chicago wants me to clean their apartment wearing some kind of costume, i'll do that too.

roy jones jr and floyd mayweather jr are the only two boxers in compubox history to go an entire round without getting hit.


sometimes the only thing to say is, "dag, jo." 


thanks to everyone who has helped me or been nice and thanks to everyone who hasn't done either of those things.

i apologize if i've done anything you thought was impolite or insensitive. 

i'm not a reliable, courteous, or considerate/sensitive person.

i'm a much bigger piece of shit/depressed asshole/hopeless retard in "real life." 

feel very willing to let anybody harm me right now. 

like it's the only thing that will make me feel comfortable. 

i have no look on my face. 

sometimes i want to help people but then i realize there's nothing about me that would help anyone.

keep thinking, "take chicago off the map, take illinois off the map, take the u.s. off the map, take myself off the map."

now feel much more angry than when i started typing this.  
no feelings. 

sometimes i just smile and think "it gets worse."

'frowns need friends too' will be out soon.  

jereme dean wrote the introduction. 

i have some new drawings too. 

no feelings. 


paralyzing depression. 

i keep thinking, "let me show you how a real man endures paralyzing depression."  

if anyone has tried to contact me via my shitty prepaid phone, i don't have it anymore.  i threw it against the ground the other day. 

i'm unable to get far in life because i can't make small talk and i don't positively encourage people.  also, i look mean.

also, fuck logan square.

had a thought about suicide the other day.  it was something like, "suicide is only bad ass if you live a perfect life.  if you live a shitty life, it's more bad ass to expose yourself to that shittiness until you die naturally."

i'm writing this at a dunkin donuts where you have to get buzzed in to the bathroom.

i'm willing to fight anyone at my readings from now on.  i'm in good shape.  i have a "six pack."

i just imagined myself grabbing chicago by the edge like a rug and flipping it downward, hard, to get the "dust" off it.

i watched "the last great heavyweight fight" the other day.  it's lamon brewster vs serhei liahkovich.  i read an interview with brewster, and he said in the first round, his left retina came off and "everything looked like a painting" for the rest of the fight.  then i watched nigel benn vs gerald mc clellan.  at the end of the fight, mc clellan takes a knee and gives up, then goes to his corner and collapses and he goes into a coma for eleven days then wakes up blind and mostly deaf.  i felt really sad watching the fight when he takes a knee and just stares at the canvas, blinking.