much love to the guy pushing a shopping cart full of bags down western ave. the other night when it was 10 below zero.

Moving in directions that if seen from above spell out ‘don’t help me’ in a secret language. 

suicide note:  'wish you were here.' 
two types of eye-contact:  none and fuck you
be yourself and you will be rejected.  friendships and companionship are mostly contracts. 
the amount of networking/social media use as a direct factor in how people perceive your popularity/worth.


tao lin's video for the young family song $$ made this list. 
urge to go to a supermarket and either mime the instruments for the music being played and/or dance to it with my eyes closed for like, hours or until they ask me to leave, and then keep doing it as the police carry me out. 
xoxox to the girl who does the wild/impassioned hula-hooping to a boombox at the jackson red line transfer. 

using all the bent-up knives on the ground around you to scratch your back
whenever i do a reading from now on i'm just going to go up there and act like i'm about to read then start yelling 'eh....ehh..ehh' in short burst while shaking and making a face then fall to the ground and start kicking and writhing and yelling. 
kamikaze pilot taking a deep breath then gritting his/her teeth before flying the plane straight down into a huge pile of shit. 
that calm and clear thought, 'back into the shit.' 
moment of random sadness where you try to cancel all the petty shit you feel by imagining a transparent version of yourself floating up into outerspace where there's already millions of other transparent people and everyone's smiling and laughing and you stop to help tie someone's shoe because why not. 
emotional moment in a talk show where the host kneels down by a crying guest and takes his/her hand and says, in a quiet tone, "[name of guest]....whatsa matta you, eh?"


the last line from an autobiography i write in the form of a biography

"And with that, he took the stage and delivered a vivacious (if not wildly embarrassing) version of 'Hit Em Up' at a karaoke bar, before dropping dead from having eaten--over the period of a few months--too many legos." 
whenever you're eating with someone, i recommend saying, 'what's that you're eating?' then when they go to show you, either slap it out of their hand or smush your hand down into it and say, 'fuckatta here with that shit.' 
urge to whip someone with my jumprope
whenever i see something in the news about like, an old person who lived alone and was found dead after the neighbors complained about the smell, i always think something like 'that's what i'm talking about'/'oh hell yeah' in terms of a solid future goal. 
sometimes when i'm drinking green juice i like to imagine it's monster-snot, whoa ewwww!!!
urge to go to the post office everyday and walk right up to a window and say, 'hey did that package arrive yet?' even though i'm not expecting a package and then when the employee says 'what package?/you have to wait in line' i just knock on the counter a little while clicking my teeth and say 'alright, i'll try again tomorrow' and walk out.


something i notice on the internet is 'totalizing'--like where people dismiss or 'close off' others after labeling them something, rather than understanding that each person is endlessly able to present new ideas/things with his/her mind. like people and their work is put up against an abstract 'whole' (for instance, a writer up against all of 'literature' or a person's culture up against all of culture) and then dismissed as being deficient in certain things, rather than being seen as a positive statement of something, a different angle.   
i started a twitter


violent 'gun movie' that's about people fighting for possession of a bag of chest-hair shavings but it's never explained why and they refer to the bag as 'the stuff.' 
performance art piece called 'whatsa matta you, eh?' where i say 'whatsa matta you, eh?' then throw a fully-cooked pizza into the air and shoot it with a shotgun
death as the result of attaching a nail to the handle end of a rake then stepping on the rake so it hits your forehead
death as all of your vital organs growing wings and flying out of your body. 
it's ok to like people who don't like the same things as you
always felt confused about why people got angry when tyson said he wanted to eat his opponent's children.  seems like i wouldn't want to watch a fighter who didn't feel that way. 
calming thought of a gigantic being quietly destroying the earth like a nervous person folding up the tinfoil wrapper from some candy. 
yelled at asshole at dunkin donuts after he yelled at an employee for having to wait ten minutes for his stupid fucking ice cream--because he was standing off to the side not making it known he wanted to order.  had urge to kidnap his daughter and raise her as my own. 


motherfuckers who say 'just like santa' when they see a dude pushing a shopping cart full of garbage bags
feel interested in becoming a metal scrapper
often notice i'm internally addressing myself as 'young man' as though the future me is talking to the present me. 
setting a bucket of water on top of a partially-open door so the person who finds you hanging gets water dumped on them.
that feeling of regret that goes along with knowing you'd make a much better mannequin than a person
been getting a feeling of adrenaline lately from imagining myself taking a sword through the heart for things--like imagining myself taking a sword through the heart to protect something else.
politeness/support/friendship as a means of self-preservation.   


recurring thought of getting my nose smashed to pulp and then snorting the pulp through my sinuses and spitting it out. 
the screensaver in my head is like, people being [something more extreme than 'annihilated'/'destroyed' etc.]

almost like 'smeared'--like every atom/cell of someone getting smeared into nothing. 


HURT OTHERS is available for 99cents on kindle for the next week. 
i like this poem by mallory whitten a lot
good interview with scott mcclanahan. a good call for people to 'bet on themselves' and see what happens. he talks about a reading we did together like 4 years ago where--i'm pretty sure--of the couple people there, one was the mother of someone else reading.  after the reading scott and i went next door to a german restaraunt where the doorman was 'Steroid German Larry Bird.'  then inside, this guy offered me a pull off his 'boot' which is a giant glass boot filled with like 10 beers and there was like a third of it left, and to be a dick, i drank the rest of it.  i remember feeling really good when i said bye to scott, like excited to write more.  i pissed on a dumpster underneath the traintracks and felt like there was so much more work to do. it's a good interview.   


puschart prize for finding places in public to hide and yell 'gehhh!' while making a face and holding up your curled up hands.
performance art piece where you only answer interview questions with 'what do YOU think, boss?'



found myself yesterday--in a moment of no urgency--think, 'at the yellow light of life, are you gonna punch it and speed through, or are you gonna stop and wait, boy.' 


jordan castro looks like keith 'one time' thurman

urge to hide in alleys in The Loop then creep out when someone walks by and say, 'the first great fire couldn't destroy our city, but legend holds the next one will...' then recede into the alley

it's comforting to know that no matter what you make, someone is going to not like it/hate it, so it's good to exclude anyone from your decisions about what you're going to make, and just make it, knowing that death and time will dissolve you anyway so who cares. 
haha young family band photos.  kelly is the singer and the photoshopper. 


death by bow and arrow firing squad
saw a news report scrolling across an l.e.d. sign downtown, about chicago police torturing people into confessing crimes.  then on the train saw an ad for a tv show called 'Chicago P.D.' where it showed a chicago cop and above him, the text: 'Don't **** with my city.' 
feel respect for people who say 'i dont know' or who need to ask a lot of questions to clarify something before they speak on it.   
parts of 'old town' chicago feel like The Loop if the parents were away for a weekend and left their backwards-white hat/bead necklace wearing son in charge.
the way a guy will brag(?) about being so hungover that he had to stay in bed all day and watch tv. 
i recommend stopping/lowering caffeine intake to help with anxiety/paranoia
felt like screaming and slamming my head into the wall while waiting for the train today, not because i was angry or stressed or anything, just because


i don't feel like my writing is  'nihilistic' or  'about boredom/mundane things'  or any of the other buzzwords people use. it's weird when people say shit like that. almost like they're treating the writing like a magic-eye puzzle where they can just figure out one word or idea to use. most reviews i read ('official' ones and ones people just post somewhere) don't even talk about anything specific in the book.  they just generalize.  
if anyone wants to buy this drawing, email me   sampinkisalive  AT gmail DOT com

i just found it under some clothes.  it's the back cover to a hardcover book.


long-ass short-story where the first 2 pages are about the main character getting ready for a date and then the last 30 pages are an elaborate fight scene the main character gets into on the way to the date, like where the main character fights off hundreds of people without getting hit at all, doing shit like jumpkicking off cars and ripping off heads. 
one short-term cure for depression is remembering you can watch a ricardo mayorga fight


incredibly violent 'buddy cop' movie starring danny devito and reginald vel johnson. 

would like to be called 'the grape pop of indie lit.'

or 'the lunchable of indie lit'



social media is still media.  it still progresses the same half-assed information and opinions and trends. 


when i worked at target, the bosses always said, "stay on brand."

that's how i know only assholes say that
anti-smoking campaign with the slogan "SMOKE OPPS, NOT CIGARETTES."


next month, i'll donate part of my royalties, and anything anyone paypals me (from now up until the end of january), to the christopher house, a place in chicago that helps provide school supplies and other help to low-income families.  i won't keep any of the money, and we can donate it anonymously, with a tribute name to prove the dollar amount.    paypal any donations to   sampinkisalive at  gmail dot com    any help spreading this would be appreciated.



things like depression and suicide and other 'bleak' things are not necessarily negative.  it's how those things are handled.  just like things like happiness and optimism are not necessarily positive.  especially in writing.  something that is 'negative' is still somebody communicating that to someone else, which is positive.  basing your positivity off of a perceived negativity in others, is by definition, negative, you sons of bitches. 
cooking show called 'Psycho-Cook' where it's just a normal cooking show except the cook/chef says shit like, 'ok we're going to go ahead and crush some garlic here, much like how one of these days i'm going to have to crush my skull to get the laughing out.' 

Open Your Eyes, You Sons of Bitches

a while ago i traded mandy zeller a book for some money and a pair of socks. mandy knit the socks herself.  i recommend trying to get socks off her.  mine have a pocket in them and are strong enough, seemingly, to like, nail to your ceiling and do pull-ups with. i also like how they look. (almost typed 'i look how they like!!!! haha weird). mandy's socks are really good in harsh winter conditions. objectively the best pair of socks i've ever owned, no maybe about it. 


in addition to WITCH PISS, lazy fascist press will also be putting out my young adult adventure tale, called "The Fansnabulous Dr. Skribblebumpkins and His Lavishly Ludicrous Outerspace Picnic." 


generally like people who are described as having 'a chip on his/her shoulder.'
going to start adding 'IF you know what i mean' to things i say/write that are already clear, so people think that no, maybe they don't know what i mean. 
shitting on the graves that are meant for you

shitting on the graves that are meant for you, which will grow new people who either shit on the graves meant for them, or fall in and be shitted on

what i want is to shoot myself while getting head, a chicago flag wrapped around my face.

the calmness of a casual hate for someone and everything they're about

the calmness of feeling indifferent towards someone else's casual hate towards you

the calmness of feeling like your insides are just steel-wool, mixing the shit you're holding in for the graves that are meant for you


Witch Piss, a novel, Lazy Fascist Press, February 2014


the lost art of ball-busting
going to start making up book titles for my bios in publications.

like, 'also by the author: T-Bone Deadly: Laser Cop, and Slow as Molasses: The History of How Molasses Came to North America, and Don't Touch Me, I'm an Android.'
book of short stories where each story ends with the main character saying, 'well whatever, because there's a bomb in my head and it's going to blow up' and then the bomb blows his/her head up. 


lost Holwin' Wolf song called "i got the 'don't feel normal unless i come three times a day' blues"


jereme dean was interviewed at htmlgiant.  


a poem called 'dog story'


stand-up comedian who comes out and says, "y'all ever not shave or really clean your face at all for months  and then shave, and the smell of your beard as you shave it off makes you almost puke?" 
that line in scott mc clanahan's 'crapalachia' about how only his uncle realizes the art of 'walker texas ranger.'  still thinking about that line.  i was alone for so long until i read that line. 


I'm giving it three stars for refreshing dialogue and a format that works in its favor. but I will not read anything else by him as many of these were just bad tastes in my mouth and I don't want to encounter that level of it again.
in that one song 'mob up' where twista says "if there's static, one of my niggas gon' get two niggas, two of my niggas gon' get fo' niggas, fo' of my niggas gon' get mo' niggas...."  i always think it'd be funny if after that he said, "wait, i dont have any friends, shit."

portrait of a butthole as a young butthole

here's a photo from a reading i did two months ago.

here's a photo for a magazine in norway i did like a year ago.

tv show called 'Are You Good or Bad?' where the contestant answers randomized trivial questions like 'do you like crackers?' or 'what is your favorite animal?' and then at the end of the show  people call in and vote whether the person is good or bad and at the very end the host says, '[contestant's name].....you are....[good or bad].'


experimental novel where the author goes back after the book is written and adds "know whatta mean, vern?" to a lot of the dialogue. 
short story called 'the guy who was making pancakes' where it's a guy going through the full process, from deciding to make pancakes, up to and including making them, all the while thinking things like 'there are going to be good' and 'can't wait to eat these!;
is there a literary/writing equivalent of "Hit'em Up." not like, 'the same thing' but in spirit. 
movie called 'The Blackest Friday' where a person robs/murders people in parking lots, steals their deals, takes the deals back to his/her apartment, and lights the apartment on fire. 
a lot of writers are polite/nice at readings but sometimes i wish they'd just spit on me
people who are adamant about 'small presses' and 'indie shit' as a way to move up to the 'big presses.' 


if i live to 90, i would like to be cast in a movie where i'm in one scene, at a diner, wearing a cowboy hat and full sweatsuit, and i randomly turn to one of the main characters eating at the counter with me after the waiter puts my pancakes down, and i say, "just how i like 'em, thin and floppy" then wink and start eating the pancakes, no teeth. 
that very small area between 'genuinely disliking everyone' and 'knowing there is probably something about everyone that would cause you to have feelings for them in some way.' 


still waiting for "so good, i'd eat it off my mom's corpse" to become a common saying


dating show where the contestants pick dates by sniffing asses/genitals while blindfolded
reality tv show called 'whiner kids' where the producers find whiny kids and every week they show footage of two whiny kids and edit it together with an analyst analyzing different styles and people vote on who wins.


realistically, killing yourself by hammering a nail into your head (with a single blow) would be as easy as shooting yourself. 
midwest winter depression.  
usually find myself liking people more for having intense beliefs and values even if i don't agree with them, instead of someone half-assedly repeating whatever ideas are currently dominating. 
that shit where you feel normal for a few minutes and think 'glad that's over' and start to wonder why things don't always feel normal, like you've just been missing something very simple. 


geez i re-read some of these posts.....so bitchy!!! seriously, just have fun and make the world a better place everyone!!!
i feel like when people say they value honesty they are always lying and/or willing to find a way to make 'honesty' ugly by characterizing it a different way--like 'insensitivity' or 'meanness' or whatever. there's always some additional bullshit going on that prevents people from being genuine or accepting of someone who is being genuine, which in turn creates more non-genuine interactions/feelings.
bankrupt house published a summary i wrote of a episode of 'family matters' 

here is a different summary by someone else. 
feel more horny for mangling someone than the normal kind of horny lately. 
i enjoy the grim/humorless feeling of total sobriety sometimes.   it makes it easier to see all the bullshit ways you put up with shit/people you hate.


that cute little way writers/artists will degrade/shittalk something non-writing related--like sports, or a holiday, or an election, or something pop-culture related--to remind people that, 'hey, i'm a fucking artist and everything not related to me is stupid!' 


there is comfort in sometimes treating life/the world as an increasingly-closer swarm of enemies that you promise yourself to keep attacking until they overcome you, which they will. 
you know how in philosophy books philosophers are looking for the simplest things, like 'what is being' or 'what is consciousness'...i think i've discovered my most original state of being/thinking is 'i want to put my fucking head through that [something/someone]'
i found an old drawing (1' by 2') of a devil-face thing with the phrase 'death before dishonor' written below it.  i'll sell it and an original copy (only 40 printed) of 'gerald mcclellan vs nigel benn'. i'll sell them to whoever offers the most by the end of the week.  i'm not going to try to take a picture of the drawing becuase my computer will just crash.
the only person i've ever been attracted to who wasn't someone i knew in real life was Ursula from 'the little mermaid.'  to me, she was really the whole package. 


from now on, whenever i see someone i know or get introduced to someone new, i'm going to say, 'get over here you ol' son of a bitch!' as i go in for a hug. 


the fun is locking yourself in your head until you become a small weak thing that you then let back out into the world, to try to survive, and if it survives, it's better, and you lock it back up for a little bit to let it get weak again before sending it back out. 
i don't like when people/their writing, try to avoid anger/hateful feelings. like when people act like they just don't get mad or ever have hateful feelings, when what that really means is 'i'm too afraid to face it' or 'i want people to believe i'm some enlightened person.' someone/some writing who lets anger and hate out, only to deal with it in interesting ways/face it, is way more interesting to me than someone who 'never gets angry.'  
performance art piece called 'gun or sword?' where i'm in an empty room in a museum and you can walk in and decide if you want to let me shoot you in the face point-blank or cut your head off with a sword. 


whenever i read/hear shit about people 'wishing more people read' or like [general bitching about why people aren't into 'the arts' anymore] i feel like understand why people aren't into books/reading/readings/the arts, because most of the people who are into or producing 'the arts' are fucking annoying and should be killed, myself included. 
never trust anyone with a lot of friends


i do this thing in the morning when i'm wetting and smashing down the hair that sticks up on the side of my head where i act like i'm in a gameshow where i'm competing against another person who is wetting his/her hands and smashing down his/her side tufts
that shit where it's like, a stenciled/graffiti'd 'positive/inspiring' saying like, 'together in love' or 'you are beautiful' or whatever, on buildings or wherever. that shit sucks. it's really alienating to have some motherfucker who doesn't know you act like they can help/or inspire/or lift you up. fake bullshit.
this is the wikipedia page for Larry Pierce, the grandfather of Lazy Fascist editor Cameron Pierce. he threw himself on an explosive in Vietnam to protect his men. 
that thing where journalists/publications/tv use 'polarizing' issues and create a story where there is none, in order to keep ignorant/uninformed/misinformed people talking to each other about meaningless shit with predetermined sides, to keep people from thinking about their own lives.   


tips for using a powercord that isn't made for your computer but kind of works:

1. sometimes you have to unplug it just a little for it to work
2. sometimes you have to put a little weight on it, like a vitamin container or book.
3. sometimes you have to bend it really hard
4. sometimes a single tap does it
5. sometimes forcing it in and out while thinking 'fuck you fuck you'
6. sometimes surrendering, and thinking something like, 'fine, i can't get you to do something you don't want to do' makes it work

cpr for a broken neck
i have this sweet-ass ear thing now where the only sound i hear out of one ear is a sound like someone taking four or five steps at a time on dead leaves.  then just ringing.  


boyhood dream of inhaling all the oxygen in the world and staring out blinkless as everything drops dead. 


long lost Howlin' Wolf song called 'I Got the Cum-Stained Umbro Blues.' 
my latest novel 'witch piss' is out today from lazy fascist press. 


a tshirt that says "This IS my wintercoat, man"


urge to start a twitter where i only kiss danielle steele's ass.  like respond to everything she tweets with "i knoooooooww!!!"  or "you said it D.S!!!"  or like put up pictures of me holding a picture of danielle steele next to my face and tweet "jus' me and danny, whatever!! #chillin"
when someone says s/he (or someone they know) is 'wild' or 'crazy' but it turns out they just mean 'drunk.' 


this is the cover/inside jacket for the 'king cobra ep' cassette.


i can tell when i really feel suicidal because i'm applying my absence everywhere, i view everything as already 'without me' in a way that feels comforting at first but then scary, because the same thing (everything 'without me') makes me not want to kill myself.  but then it's like, that's only a scare someone can have while alive, so if i wasn't alive, i wouldn't even be having it. good shit, man.


sometimes only capable of putting my hands over my face and pushing at my closed-eyes a little while i breathe slowly. 


i want to open a stand at the I90/94 entrance ramp called 'Pizza Skeetza' where i dress in a chef outfit and sell (cooked) slices of frozen pizza.  eventually, i'd merge with the guy who sells gym socks at that ramp, and 'Pizza Skeetza' would be your one-stop 'slice and sock' stop before getting on the highway. 


a short poem called 'when my bush smells like your bush'

when my bush smells like your bush
i own you and you own me
if anyone wants to publish a description of a complete episode of 'family matters' (episode title: 'The Science Project') email me. 



the next YOUNG FAMILY e.p., 'king cobra' will be out a few days after halloween, through SPORK PRESS.  it's six songs.

kelly and i also have like 7-10 new songs we're working on, so if you want to help put them out at some point, hit me up. milk all over. 


increasingly common feeling of itchy teeth around people and animals--like teeth feeling itchy to bite, biting something so hard it itches my teeth for me.



there's this guy who sleeps on a broken down cardboard box on the sidewalk out front of a laundromat by my place.

he wears a suit that looks like something a castaway in a movie would wear.

he has short thick dreadlocks that stick up everywhere on his head so his head looks like a dandelion.

most of the time when i see him, he's sitting up on the cardboard box, a blanket wrapped around the front of his chest just staring straight forward or rocking back and forth a little.

today when i was out front of the laundromat, he was sitting up in bed staring at the parking lot, rocking himself back and forth.

after a minute or two he got up and walked around the parking lot.

an employee came out of the laundromat holding a big blanket/comforter.

he walked up to the guy in the parking lot and held the blanket out at him.

holding the blanket out, he said, 'here, you want this? take it.' 

the homeless guy ignored him, walking back towards his bed. 

'here take it, man', said the laundromat employee, jabbing the blanket out. 

the homeless guy ignored him.

'fine fuck you,' said the guy holding he blanket. 

the homeless guy was almost to his cardboard box bed when the employee tried again. 

'hey,' he said, 'here, don't you want this, it's warm, take it man, come on.'

the homeless guy turned, looked at the blanket, took it and lay back down, wrapping it around his chest and staring straight forward, rocking himself back and forth.


sometimes i feel the urge to just lie down in an alley/between some garages/in a vacant lot/abandoned building/secret spot/whatever and see how long i can lie there until someone finds me and then when they find me get up and say, 'hey, you found me' and walk away. 


the thing i daydream/fantasize about most is sitting shirtless in a chair facing a sunny window while running a knife around on my chest using a motion much like one would use to mix a giant bowl of something. 


the no hellos diet is out in spain now.
thank you to ana pareja, the editor, and the translator, julio fuertes tarín


you can get 'rontel' on the nook for half off at barnes and noble.  it's a staff pick. one of the reviews is written by a kid who rated the book one star and then wrote for a review: 'is this book for kids? im a kid and want to put it on my wishlist.'

fuck yeah little kid.  i hope you read it. 


that moment when you start to notice every thought you have is begun by one person and then randomly ended by another person and you don't like either of those people
that moment when you put on a piece of clothing and notice it smells like puke/b.o. and feel bad but then ten minutes later put on another piece of clothing and it smells kind of like puke/b.o. too and then everything's ok because that means you 'match' and that's important. 


author photo that is the author kneeling over a pile of dog shit, with a fork and knife in his/her hands, a napkin tucked into his/her collar, and him/her making an insane face/licking his/her lips. 

perceived man with long gray beard blowing in wind riding a motorcycle towards me as a man blowing out an incredible amount of smoke. 

an email i just sent about a dishwashing job

"Hi, I am interested in your dishwashing position.  Simply put: I'm your man.  I've been to [bar] a few times, and surely dirtied some dishes, now is when I switch it up and start making'em clean!  I've washed dishes at a pizza place and a bagel place before, in addition to the many fine years of dishwashing I've done since a young man. Also, I live in the area, so if you want me to come in and test wash a few dishes, no problem!  Also, I've done barbacking before so I'm a valuable asset no?  Thanks for your time!"


a weird thing to say to someone who's at your place is, "have you tried my napkins? i think you'll like them."
as I move from 'somewhat capable adult' to 'staring off braindead in sweatpants and slippers at a caretaker's home' I realize I should've started having a lot of kids when I was young, that way i'd have nice people to take care of me, maybe even some grandkids. like I could live with my son/daughter and have breakfast with my grandkid(s) every morning (in the same cartoon bowl/cup) and then just sit there staring while the grandkid says, 'is grandpa ok?' and then i'll tap the kid on the arm when the parent isn't looking and flick the kid off with a wink. 


 these are pictures of one of the Chicago flags I handwrote the poem 'the midwest' on for someone. it's a full-sized flag. 


just another one of those relaxing, carefree sunday afternoons where you spend half your time daydreaming about talking shit to someone who's pointing a gun at your face and the other half daydreaming about being that other person. 


noticed today i'd genuinely thought, "the filth, it's everywhere, surrounding me...." and then laughed when i noticed it. 


if any publications that pay for short stories are reading this, i have a short story that'll knock your fucking socks off buster! so hit me up and give me some fucking money you stupid fucks i fucking hate you!

i've seen a physical copy of 'the collected suicide notes' and it looks really nice.  it even smells good. 
i feel like when my cat gets into a box he finds on the floor and lays in it, he is celebrating life and enjoying himself, but when i  do it, it's because i want someone to throw me off a building. 


a 'c-span'/'political panel' style tv show where a moderator turns to a man in full military uniform and says, "so, sergeant, what is the state of 'Fucking' in general then?" 
"oh, my rotten eyeball!" would be an interesting new way to say, like, "drats/just my luck." 


'performance art' thing where i go downtown everyday for 1-3 hours with an action-figure in a ziplock bag and put the action-figure in the ziplock bag on the sidewalk somewhere where a lot of people arre walking and have an argument with it, pacing around and saying, "it wasn't always this way" and other things, maybe sometimes apologizing to it, you gt the idea
if i remember right, the word 'swagger' was used in the hemingway story, "the killers."

an enjoyable ending to a story/book would be:   "and then s/he rocketed out of the earth's atmosphere in his/her tiny escape pod, seeing the planet in its entirety from outerspace. 'kiss my fucking ass,' s/he thought, staring back." 


the song 'obolus' by 'thrones.' 
do they have a job like 'dogwalker' but you just wrestle/play with peoples' pets? like, you go to their house when they're at work and wrestle with their dog or play with their cat using one of those wand things.
pretty sure i hold the record for 'most failed book sales' at readings, via not having books. 
talking shit to someone before a fight by saying, "haha, yeah, your goodreads friends ain't here to help you now punk." 


i used to fall asleep every night to a dream where i fell down a flight of stairs and felt myself falling and then woke up with a full body spasm before going back to sleep. i miss those days. 
brief vision of my death as me walking around downtown and somebody stops and asks for directions and i say, 'oh  yeah, sure, it's right over....' then WHAM a huge part of a building crumbles off and lands on my head from 50 stories up, and for a second, i stand in front of the person who asked for directions, and it looks like i'm a human body with a stone for a head and then i fall to my knees, then facedown. 
has anyone tried taking '5htp' with fish oil to help with bi-polar shit/mental problems shit?  if so, did it work? 


feeling thankful that summer is almost over.  can almost walk around safely without seeing people outside trying to have fun. walking around late at night in the cold with nobody else out is really good. 
you can preorder scott mcclanahan's first novel 'hill william' through 'ny tyrant press.' 

i tell ya, this kid is someone to look out for. he's got the goods and he's aiming at you. he's standing there firing the goods at you whether you like it or not. if this is god's country, it's surely mcclanahan's state, 5 out of 5, a new voice in american fiction.  simply put, he's got the scooper, he's leaning over the counter, he's waiting for you to select which goods you'd like so he can scoop em on up and put em in a 'to-go' container for you.  you walk up, you order the goods, he says, 'i'll see those goods, and raise you THESE goods.'  simply put, Dub-V's finest.  a real go-gettr with the right amount of 'can do' and just a lil sprinkle of, 'see ya wouldn't wanna be ya.'  i tell ya, this kid's work is scary good. motherfuckers acting like it's halloween when they read his shit because it's so scary good. make'em wanna feed they kids into a woodchipper.  talking bout, west virginia 'all up in ya.' a real go-getter with just the right amount of 'say what!?'  [concluding line about 'you've been warned' or 'nothing will be the same' or 'ups the game for USA fiction']