depression like all there is inside your skull is a pile of melted plastic


here's another chapter of 'witch piss' at 'dazed and confused.'

and here's a chapter muumuu house published a little bit ago.

they're the 2nd and 6th chapters


self-inflicted baseball bat suicide


life like you can't stop your blood from hurting, like it's trying to jet out of your face-holes into the snow
life like you figured out to just say 'yeah' and smile a little in response to any/everything, in order to offset your glaring antisocial behavior
life like your only heaven is riding the train back home from work, half asleep with a hard dick
life like you only feel alive when you take a ten second break out in the cold alley, smelling the garbage smell on your hands from a leaky bag
life like you've spent so much time anxious about losing the people who need the help you can't give--including yourself--that you want to die, but have become invincible through having no fear in your heart
life like you're crouched over your food at a fastfood restaurant, eating like a starving rat after work, feeling angry at everybody but mostly yourself because you're too shy to just walk up and introduce yourself to the guy sitting at a table alone, yelling at his coffee in between screams and some type of made-up language that sounds like spanish mixed with russian.
life like you just woke up in a car on the way to getting dropped off at a costume party and you dont have a costume


some good-ass shit by scottie 'make they butt clap' mc clanahan


death by going down onto the El train tracks and saying, 'let's see what we got here' to the people on the platform, before licking the third rail.
death by jumping up high enough to land headfirst in a basketball hoop so your body folds over backwards and breaks your neck.
most publications where it's like half-news/half-gossip that allow you to 'comment' are just ways of keeping you occupied with 'voicing your opinion' about illusory issues, to sell you ads and to keep you invested in the website/whatever rather than actually doing things that concretely make a different in the issue and/or changing yourself.  also, you fucking die whether or not people know how you feel about [bs issue] in [bs tv show/book/whatever] so just like, find a new way to lose.


jereme dean's blog is really good.   

that feeling that you already read/saw all the various endings in your own life and are now just going through it without surprise of any kind


ad on the side of google that says, 'the 7 health benefits of being left the fuck alone you may not know about.' 


i haven't read this yet but it's probably good  

preemptive blurb:  'this that shit that puts the wobble in my gobble.' 

greeting card idea

feel like it would be really satisfying to just stop when i'm out in public and starting wringing my hands, yelling, 'i can't get these damn gummy worms off my FUCKING hands, ohhhhh.' 
movie called 'Moon Pimp' where this guy thinks he's a pimp, like he says it a lot about himself until one of his co-workers says, 'Yeah well, you wouldn't be such a pimp if you were on the moon....' and the guy says, 'Maybe I would!' and then the co-worker says, 'Careful what you wish for, Moon Pimp....' and then that night the moon pimp guy travels to the moon through a portal in his sleep and he wakes up on the moon, survives some scares from oxygen deprivation/food/moon monsters, until he learns that no man can be moon pimp and then an intergalactic bus of 'hotties' safely crash lands on the moon and the hotties get out and are like, 'oh no, we're trying to get to the 2014 intergalactic nebulon hottie contest' and the moon pimp guy has to fight back his pimpin urges because he falls in love with one of the hotties and ends up helping them repair their bus and then hitches a ride back to earth where he (Moon Pimp) crash lands the bus surfing on top of it holding two hotties and then his co-worker is taking out some garbage and says, 'fuck, now THAT, friends, is a Moon Pimp.' 
pushcart prize for people googling 'things seem stupid to me' and 'alf penis' to locate your blog
pushcart prize for being the 'bam bam bigelow' of literature 
sitcom called 'SlamHunk' where a minor teen problem is worked out for 30 minutes, only to be resolved at a high school basketball game where a 'hunk' says, 'relax everybody, i got this' then gets put into the game and does a tremendous slam dunk, shattering the backboad, then lands on his feet, dusts off his shoulder and everybody starts cheering and making out. 
book called 'You Have GOT to be Shittin Me!!!' with a double exposed picture of me on the front, one laughing and pointing at the other, who is frowning and folding his arms. 
having no firm beliefs/opinions on who you are as a way to avoid preventing yourself from doing whatever
pushcart prize for insanely saying, 'he loves being treated like a little prince' before grabbing your pet's head and shaking it a little then kissing it ten times in a row
pushcart prize for being able to  reference your own books as many times as possible in a seemingly unrelated ordinary conversation
song played at blackhawks game called "Love Hossa" to the tune of "Love Sosa." 
recommend reading through the posts here


forehead to forehead while fucking.
have been experimenting with sometimes moving around inside (like from room to room) in the manner of a gorilla or other monkey.


can't tell if i believe in nighttime as something that happens because the earth is turned or if nighttime is something that just like, floats around the earth. 
self-promotional link
am i understanding this right, you can have dreams that don't make you feel really fucking bad for the first couple hours of your day
'you really think you could get away from me?' seems like a really intimidating thing to say to a stranger, while laughing a little and shaking your head, making blinkless eyecontact
introducing yourself to a random person in public by walking up and saying, 'hey is it just me, or am i a fucking piece of shit eh?' then shaking his/her hand and saying 'hi, nice to meet you.' 
that nearly irresistible urge to say to anyone at any given time, 'i've been wanting to come in your ass since i was just a wee munchkin.' 
a cool thing would be if when you shot someone in the head a stuffed animal just like, halfway puffed out of the wound. 
the sudden feeling that you don't really have a personality it's more like a series of guesses at situations that then reflect who you are to other people including yourself but it's never accurate.
device like a guillotine except instead of a blade it's just a huge cinderblock
whenever i see a dude walking down the street wearing an eye patch, laughing to himself, i always think, 'take me with.'  
feeling like you're joking about everything you do but the fact you keep doing it is very serious.
have been thinking, "i'll whip that ass like i paid for it" about nothing in particular while doing things like waiting for my glass to fill with water in the sink. 
destiny of one day being in a conversation and saying, 'yeah, well....' then taking out a hand-held three-pronged garden tool and using it to comb backwards over my head and tear off my face with a sound like unravelling a large piece of duct tape then slapping the face against the wall. 


that weird moment when someone says something to you and instead of replying, 'i don't have anything say about that' you say something like, 'oh man' or 'jeez' or just raise your eyebrows a little while biting your bottom lip


WITCH PISS is done being edited.  if you want to ask for a review copy pdf, email Cameron Pierce cameroncpierce AT gmail DOT com


i recommend eating a lot of celery/drinking celery juice to make your body odor even worse.
if anyone wants to buy one or both of these drawings (they're both drawn on the back of the cardboard you get inside a long underwear package) then email me   sampinkisalive AT  gmail DOT com     the average amount of money i make off a drawing is like 50 dollars, but i let people give whatever they want, just so you dont think 1. i set the price and 2. i set it high.
i reactivated my 'ask.fm' account to avoid doing interviews for publications.  nasty wasty publications!!!  don't ask me dumb shit or i won't answer, this isn't a democracy ya basstid!!  also, i think i have a guest answerer for some questions, the Almighty Hollywood Thumbs.  and folks i gotta tell ya, he makes me look like a little kitty. oh and just to preempt the 'dick' question, i just measured it and it's like 7 inches long (depending on how raging the boner is) and like five(5.5?) incches around, but i dont think i did that one right. hope you're happy!


weird al yankovic cover of eazy-e's "real muthafuckin G's" called "Grilled Motherfuckin' Cheese"


good old fashioned-middle of the night-winter-non-drug/alcohol related-nonspecific depression. 


Hollywood D and Scrappy G   til the world blow
2013 Fight of the Year
performance art piece where you mainly keep to yourself--accomplishing things you want to accomplish, avoiding fake people, avoiding feeling like you have to have an opinion on things that are not directly related to you, not being passive, accepting the best and worst things in your life with equal love, caring about your people, not identifying with people simply because they try to make you their people, accepting that you may not have many people, never accepting something simply because everyone says it, smashing yourself every once in a while, parading yourself every once in a while, depriving yourself of things that make you feel numbly comfortable, not turning your weaknesses into negative qualities in others, not avoiding hate, avoiding being nice to others as a form of self-preservation, gift-wrapping the things people try to steal from you, booby-trapping the things people try to steal from you, giving up only to be able to come back, and understanding that no matter who you are you are worth roughly half a streak leftover in a toilet in terms of the future and the past.



'damn, can't believe i'm a werewolf now,' he thought, walking down the street looking at his hairy paw. 

but he'd known all along he was a werewolf, in some way. much like how an omelet knows it's an omelet, in some way.

he smiled his fangy smile and slicked back his luxurious werewolf hair with his claws.

'fuck it jo,' he thought.  

just then, a clown jumped out of an alley and stood before him, menacing. 

the clown did that side to side neck cracking motion then cracked his knuckles and said, 'well well, werewolf man. seems like it's time to settle some old business eh?'

'who the fuck are you?' said the werewolf.

'you mean you don't remember?' said the clown, rolling up his clown sleeves.  'perhaps you remember me by my old name, dr. scribblius q. choppletoots. i pinched your butt at a 311 concert many years ago.' 

the werewolf touched his butt and whispered, 'you motherfucker.'

the werewolf went to run at the clown, but the clown pulled out a small laser gun and said, 'not, so, fast. impetuous aren't we?'

'it ends here,' said the werewolf.

'my my my,' said the clown. 'look who suddenly became a werewolf and grew some balls.'

then he began pacing, keeping the laser in his hand.

'werewolf,' said the clown. 'let me be clear, there is nothing i'd love more than to laser you in the nipples and finish off what i started long ago.  but to be frank, i simply must return to my laboratory to finish work on my Klaktonius Decimator.  so i think,' --he laughed-- 'why, i think i'll let my friend deal with you instead.'

and with that he snapped his fingers.

out from the alley there came a giant anthropomorphic muscular lobster with a mohawk and nose ring.

'meet my friend, Nogzor,' said the clown.

Nogzor snorted like a bull and stepped forward menacingly.

the clown said, 'i'm sure you two will be good friends.'

and with that he pocketed his laser and got on his rocket-powered segway and took off, laughing like 'snee hee hee hee.'

the werewolf smiled and did that neck cracking motion and said, 'it's just too bad i ain't got no butter with me.'

then they both rushed towards each other and performed simulataneous jumpkicks.

instant author credibility if the author does a serious photo wearing one of those 'dr. seuss/raver' hats. 
giving a reading where, while you're reading, you spritz yourself in the face with a small watergun filled with urine
keep picturing myself in a small control room inside the sun, driving the sun around and shooting lasers out of it, killing an entire planet whose inhabitants look exactly like me.
urge to become a 'regular' at a grocery store where i go in and nervously ask endless questions of the employees, like walk up holding some peanut butter and say, 'um, yes, i was interested in buying this nut-based spread but i fear it will not be good on its own, do you have any pairing suggestions?'
new law in 2014 where it's ok to murder a white 30-something L.L. Bean's catalog looking motherfucker if s/her makes eye contact with you or is just generally acting uppity.