for sale, 11x17, drawn on cardboard sign i found that had 'homeles/happing mreey chritsamas' written on back.  sampinkisalive at  g mail dot com.  the perfect stocking stuffer for lil junior or lil sarah!


it's ok you can walk up to someone on the street and hand them a stick and say, 'hey, guard this for me for a while' looking serious before walking away
author photo where i'm standing with my back to camera naked except for slices of salami covering my ass and i'm looking to the side and flexing and there is a bird perched on each arm looking up towards the sky towards each other.


self-published handwritten book that is brown paperbag pages bound to a section of a domino's pizza box
scarecrow above where you sleep to prevent the bats from returning to your head
afterlife of sitting in a parking lot stirring a small, shallow, and extremely cold puddle with your fingertip to keep it from freezing
immediate bond with shoeless guy walking around holding a two-liter and yelling, 'fuck your mecedes benz!'


most people don't know this but capital punishment replaced 'making someone hang out at a guitar center for one hour' when the latter was judged too extreme
hey if the people i met on division st. read this blog, email me. sorry i didn't talk for longer. i wanted to give you hugs and talk but i had a really bad fever and was caught off guard.  email me so i can mail you books or whatever.
depression such that, when it passes, your demeanor can only be described as 'just rescued from deserted island'


government task force that arrives immediately and shoots you in the genitals if you play giant jenga at a bar
seems fucking weird that no one ever starts off a reading with 'let me hear you make some noise!'
there isn't a living author who can sweep up puke or tie off a garbage bag like me
work hard


selling this drawing and this one. email sampinkisalive at g mail dot com
glad that people seem to understand my main terms of endearment in emails: 'shithead' 'dummy' and  'motherfucker'
silent broadcast of 'i am with you in the shit' in bed at night thinking about other people who feel like shit and feeling the response



have begun saying, 'c'mon bessie' to extremely fucked-up computer when trying to load things
urge to carry around two to three foot long sandwich inside coat so i can sit ddown next to someone in public and say to myself, 'fuck, man' and shake my head and take out the sandwich
feel certain i'd watch day-time talk shows if they interviewed homeless people instead of whatever trendy butthole actor
thinking, 'some of that good shit' when choking on depression
really like strangers who respond honestly when you ask him/her how they're doing
removing your girfriend's stray hair from your ass-crack while showering and making a little noose out of it
when you have money, give some of it away, you fucking pig
talking to the lone lobster left in the tank at the supermarket to calm down and feel connected
headbutting through your coffin to stick my tongue out at you. 
headbutting through your coffin to give you one last kiss


climbing the edge of an endless razor to escape someone chasing you with a toy hammer
urge to kick a stack of waffles off a golf tee

recurring thought of 'i'm outta here!' no matter where i'm at/what's happening
depression like burying yourself alive with a toothpick


don't trust any male author who takes author photos with a shirt on
when you start to smile and laugh more not out of joy but a feeling like 'yeah, fuck this.'
facial expression like an extremely slow motion video of a bridge collapsing
feeling like a stranger all day then realizing it's because the tshirt you bought at dollar store smells like someone else wore it for a long time before you bought it
learning to calmly navigate people like poisonous plants or lasers in a vault room


Waking up as a magic trick where everything you hate about yourself comes out of your face and creates the world.  
forced forward by invisible bayonets
talking shit to the firing squad
good prayer for end/beginning of day: brick-maker in heaven, send us many bricks


public suicide by holding out a gun and saying, 'see that?' to someone then slapping the hand down and windmilling it around and shooting yourself in the head
wanting more and more to live in a small town where the only people who live there are people who bag groceries
reading tonight at uncharted books. 


i wouldn't wear a scarf to tie my head back on
strong urge to go to store and open a box of cereal and just start grabbing handfuls out of it and throwing them into the air while saying, 'whadda we got here huh?' over and over
lost twenty dollars in a pushup contest with a homeless guy when i couldn't complete the fiftieth pushup.


confusing/pseudo political bumper sticker/shirt that says, 'i'm not gay but my gun is.'


yearly christmas card that just says, 'still haven't killed myself, merry christmas.'
found myself narrowing my eyes and saying, 'not just any bones will do though.'
a homeless guy came into the bar the other night and said, 'i just want water' and grabbed a plastic cup and filled it at our water cooler and then went to leave but dropped the cup and the water spilled all over and he shook his head and walked out, saying, 'oh this is not a good night. this a bad bad night' and left, holding the empty cup.
my favorite thing to say after taking a shower at someone's place is 'man, sometimes it's so hard to stomp my shit down through the drain'


passed by two people walking and guy said, '...those like, disgusting little dreadlock things' and i immediately figured he was talking about a giant larval creature with little dreadlock things lining it's mouth and throat to digest things
heard a grizzled wise-man of some kind in my head ssaying, 'they say each shitty self-haircut takes a lot out of a man...'
the best way to commit suicide by jumping out in front of a car seems to be to crouch behind the hood of a car parked on the street and watch for oncoming cars through the windshield.
'deadly calm' as the only description of yourself on a dating website
my high-power publicist made a high-power move aand created a twitter.  she runs it, so if it says i like you or follow you that's probably not true. she's just making high-power moves (on that ass).


highly recommend covering eyes or ears with your hands when in an undesirable social situation and someone is talking to you (or even nobody is talking to you!)

jellybean and ghost olive

my high-power, high-class, no-nonsense, turbo-ass, down and dirty publicist will be posting a story a day from SUPER LIMITED AND OUT OF PRINT BOOK 'GERALD MCCLELLAN VS NIGEL BENN' on the OFFICIAL TUMBLR

you're welcome, you fucking rats
i'm reading next wednesday at unchartered books. 


good conversation starter at bar or wherever:  'i really don't think i'd mind if tits were covered in a small amount of hair, i really don't.'




the joyful and terrible realization while washing dishes in an empty bar at 4:30 am that you can, at anytime always, stop whatever you are doing and do anything else. and the less of a future you have, the more that is true. and the more that is true the more it feels like choking but also coughing up something terrible, to look at and say, oh that's what it was, as you choose to continue washing dishes.


unmarketable author/drawer

i'm selling these three drawings, a copy of person with my beard glued to the front and back cover, and copies of the 'garbage times and other stories' ms printed out.  sampinkisalive  a g  mail  dot com


have a 9k word poem (~60 pages)

if anyone wants to help print up like 50 of them and that's it, hit me up

sampinkisalive  @  g mail  dot com
when you walk over a highway overpass and hear the traffic below saying, 'join us join us'
when you find yourself staring off, thinking, 'you can have these brownies when you take them out of my cold dead hands motherfucker.'


friends at a restaurant/coffee shop/bar going over petty interpersonal dramas and blindly supporting each other's rendition.  
interested in doing recorded phone call talk show called, 'hey, haya doin?'

if anyone can email me about how to record phone calls i'd appreciate it

sampinkisalive at  g  mail  dot com
'what do you want from me' as the ideal response to almost anything
if anyone wants to read the manuscript of 'the garbage times and other stories' to review,email me

sampinkisalive   at  g mail  dot com

most comfortable completely alone with no unearned allegiance
standing in the middle of the street during busy traffic with no shirt on and howling
introducing yourself to people by making expressionless/blinkless eye contact and saying, 'i am albino. you wish to see me?'
lows so low

head like an aluminum can being crushed in slow motion for years


highly recommend keeping the top of a broken plastic fork stuck in your beard for daily combing purposes


was on the megabus and after a rest-stop the driver got on the intercom and said, 'alright everyone we're getting ready to get moving again.  so take a look around and if you don't see someone who should be on the bus, or if you see someone you didn't see before, let me know.'  and this dude in the back yelled, 'you know we'on't snitch!'
raising money for moving expenses.  have drawings to sell.  also going to shave my beard and glue it to the front and back covers of a copy of 'person' for the highest bidder (beard is really big right now and will cover entire front and back cover. it'll keep you warm at night/be endless potential for cloning/voodoo/confusing buddy for your pet/whatever!). will also handwrite an entire book.... (in ted dibiase voice) for the right price, hehe. if you live in chicago, i can do things like paint your apartment, read at your bar mitzvah, murder you in your sleep, etc. get at me,motherfuckers.  sampinkisalive at g  mail dot com


THE GARBAGE TIMES (AND OTHER STORIES) this fall from lazy fascist press.


these two drawings are for sale

sampinkisalive  at  g mail dot com

the bad thing about mistaking a tarp blowing out under a fence as a monster's hand coming after you is that you look weird jumping back on the sidewalk.  the good thing is nothing will scare you the rest of the night.


posted two essays at my essay blog 'THE BOTTOM LINE.' 

one is my no holds barred look at walnuts. and one is an essay on the movie 'heavy metal' by a guest poster.

i encourage you to send any essays you've written to me for consideration. they can be the bottom line on something, or perhaps a counter bottom line to what was already established as a bottomline. just have fun!

sampinkisalive  @  gmail  dot com


an excerpt of the poem 'you hear ambulance sounds and think they are for you'



review of the lemonade stand one block east of augusta and ashland

nothing beats the summer heat like a nice cup of lemonade. yes, ice cold lemonade really beats the heat. so you can imagine my delight this afternoon when i passed by a lemonade stand one block east of augusta and ashland. at first glance,'Fresh Lemonade' is an unassuming, charming little nook in chicago's west town neighborhood. a handmade sign adds rustic charm and informs passers by that for the low low price of fifty-cents, they can cool off and beat the heat with a cup. i was greeted by a five year old girl and her grandmother. the service, to begin with, was admittedly, a little weak. i  had stopped and read the sign for a few seconds, even loudly said, 'hmmm' like i was thinking about the lemonade, to get the attendant's attention, i was then approached by the five year old girl, i'm assuming the main proprietor. she seemed very nervous but her grandma was quick to remind her it was her lemonade stand. this early buffoonery had me anxious, but i eased the tension by joking about the sign, which, due to spacing issues, appeared to read that each cup was 10.50, rather than just .50. i was then informed that the establishment offered two types of lemonade, pink, and classic yellow. i chose yellow after no small deliberation, for both looked succulent, cooling off in glass pitchers on a small plastic table.  the girl took out a small styrofoam cup and almost poured my drink but her coworker reminded her about the ice. needless to say, my confidence in the overall product/atmosphere was waning...i was given a modest serving, perhaps a ploy at milking refill fees?...i gathered fifty cents and a dollar and motioned to hand it to the girl but she had been distracted by getting more styrofoam cups. her coworker reminded her to always mind the customer first. i paid for my drink and told her the dollar was her tip. both employees wished me a nice day and looking at that wonderful lemonade in my hand, it was hard to see it going any other way. i continued walking and swirled my drink a little, to let it fully luxuriate in the ice. i swirled and watched. appeared to be a classic pale yellow lemonade. perfect for cooling off on a hot summer afternoon. after my first sip, i knew my dollar-fifty  had found its true owner. the lemonade covered my tongue and went down my throat and cooled me from the core out. a sweet onset concluded with tart notes. overall, a pleasing experience. i highly recommend the lemonade stand one block east of augusta and ashland
'what the fuck are you talking about' is the correct response to most everything a juice bar employee says.
if you know how to do instagram/have a smartphone, and can help me set up an instagram, and can remain in contact with me, email me   sampinkisalive  at g mail dot com

no peace until the middle of the night when i get home and lie down on the floor and my roommate's dog (that big ol sexy woman!) licks my beard for ten minutes
if anyone wants to be my publicist, email me. your job will be to set up readings and help promote in whatever way you know.  i dont care if you're ten and have no experience. i dont care if your ten and have years of experience! sampinkisalive  at gmail dot com

love from chicago to nigeria

was in a cab after work last night and the cabbie almost hit a drunk cubs fan randomly crossing a busy street.  the cabbie said that in nigeria they would've just run him over and he'd be left in the street and everyone would keep running him over.  'no ambulance,' he said.  <3 nbsp="">
thursday joke of the day....

why did the cubs fan cross the road?

so he could be a useless fucking drunk idiot bastard on the other side of the road!
hey snickers, fuck is this '2 to go' bullshit!? if i wanted to eat my king sized snickers in two pieces like a dweeb, i'd break it in half or find something to cut it with! fuck you i hate you!
personality like every second is the moment you wake up in a car rolling down a hill, without brakes
another night of dreaming that i'm holding my dad down by the throat,repeatedly punching him in the face as he laughs at me


if you're a young writer looking to be monetarily successful, spend more time making connections than on working on anything.  also, make your books a certain length, add a clear 'narrative' and/or 'twist' and just overall make sure you view the reader as a baby looking for a toy.
a good response to the job interview question, 'tell us a little about yourself'is: 'well i've been born again in this particular human form to finish the job i started ages ago.'


gravely saying 'thank you for your help in my time of need' whenever anyone helps you, instead of just 'thank you.'
be funny to--when petting a stranger's dog and the stranger says something about the dog--look up from a kneeling position and make a mean face and say, 'i was talking to the dog, thank you.'


only doing readings in my room from now on. from inside my closet with the door shut and people on the other side of the door. and a plate of cupcakes and pbr on my bed.

when the overriding perception of you at work begins to favor, 'guy who is least afraid of the rats around the dumpsters.'


even beckybabes like this nonsense! find out what you're missing out on!
barbara's bookstore in boston carries all my books

a blurb for anyone's book, anyone can use this ever

bar where you can't get in unless you bring your/a dog but then you aren't allowed to have dogs in the bar and i work the room where you have to check them in/drop them off.


when you look up at the moon and see five or six different-sized, transparent replicas floating around it.


personal pulitzer prize of receiving emails from other target stockroom employees after reading 'no hellos'

wednesday joke day

what did the one Cubs fan say to the other?

'hey we're both pudgy slobs with nothing to add to society except spending money and acting like dipshit college kids our whole lives and we suck because we're so shitty and only say dumb shit.'
making fists by your waist and tensing up on your walk home, to get out whatever needs to get out
readings are as good as the people there, both reading and listening


i got books.  email me if you want to buy books.  sampinkisalive  at g mail dot com. use them to get laid. i have been told by different sources these books help you get laid. at the very least you will feel ok for two hours in your room. which is better than getting laid. i'll rub them in my armpit before mailing them i dont care. get this nectar,youngin.


article on PERSON. 
somebody twitter at this lil junior fry and have her email me so i can send her some  books


just come to me wearing the blood of my enemies/friends' enemies and/or fix the rip on my leather jacket


hollywood hog-slammer jereme dean had this to say about the scorching new short story, THE DISHWASHER:  

This short story by Sam Pink made me feel less alone.  Not just a little, but, like, momentarily completely un-alone.

at turns moving and scorching, a grab you by the seat of your pants thriller. necessary and succulent. are your dishes clean?!


that one really quick one in you girlhood bed when we went back to you hometown for whatever holiday


short story at muumuu house called THE DISHWASHER


like to welcome to the family my new fifteen dollar 'living solutions' fan. i got the model that looked most likely to cut me at some point. truly, a 'cheat to beat the heat', and a very accurate brand name. makes a pleasant 'giant dragonfly' sound also.  hey all right!


this is a picture the homey gena mohwish  took  when her and jereme were in chicago a while ago.



grabbing the handle to a door for someone and saying, 'here, let me get that for you' and then getting in their way and putting your head in the door and slamming it a bunch of times, or maybe only once


person on street with clipboard: scuse me sir, do you have a moment to help raise minimum wage?

me: no, i'm late for my minimum wage job
RIP daisy and henrietta (dollars store ear buds). you lasted like, four months, which in your years is like 340 years. the times weren't always good, but together we always were. part of me thinks the way you went out, was more your doing (an admirable resignation) than mine. but let's just remember the times we had, me standing on the bus staring off on the way to work as you gave me your bass-less midrange terrible all.  i'll see you both when i get there.


'marked by extreme negativity'

review of 'clone' and 'person' on argentine site. 

picture by gena mohwish, koneko photography (konekophotography.com). highly recommend gena. she's my fayvwit photographer. this picture was taken during my meeting with sosa,
 robe and glasses provided by the Hollywood Daddy


that odd inclination people have to come up and remind you there is a huge tear in your shirt
walking four miles home in the cold rain thinking about killing yourself and then suddenly feeling better after picking a flower and tossing it in a puddle beneath a bridge


if an army of one million axe-carrying giants riding razor-toothed mutant dogs with laser eyes was going to attack chicago tomorrow, i'd be waiting barehanded to rush them.

but if the same army showed up to attack wrigleyville, i'd be waiting to say, 'k, what you wanna do is, hop on the redline going north and get off at addison.' then wink.


growing urge to dress in a trenchcoat with aviator sunglasses and walk into a small restaurant and go up to the counter and take the glasses off, raise my eyebrows and look around a little, then in a calm, raspy voice, say, 'what THE FUCK time do you guys close here?' then after someone answers, nod a little and put my sunglasses back on and walk out.
finished THE GARBAGE TIMES last night. going to print up a single copy at fedex (like a word doc nota book) and i'll sell it to whoever offers most by the end of the week. full transparency, the money will go towards rent. i'll sign it or write a note on it or whatever. sampinkisalive @ gmail  DOT com


trailer for THE GARBAGE TIMES.

video by empress starbright candylid

music by black dice

please help spread the video if you want


come see gustavo rivera's band tonight at 7pm, 1719 w albion, at Albion House. i'll be out with them later.

the apology of socrates is the only book that has gotten me close to crying
blow peoples' minds by not maaking a big deal of your birthday
being reasonable and unbiased and unegotistical will never be marketable, so there will always be the two sides.
predicting 'fuck you' will soon be politically incorrect to say because it implies sex
i'm selling the cover image for THE GARBAGE TIMES (pictured below) to raise money to put out the book. if  anyone is interested, email me  sampinkisalive  AT g mail dot com


this is my favorite regular at one of the bars i work at. her name is sasha. she likes popcorn and hanging out and falling asleep with her chin on the bar


and then, my friends, after months of uncertainty--questions unanswered, hope fading--you find that half-eaten pack of 'hubba bubba' strawberry watermelon bubble gum, and something in you is reborn


cover image for new book, 'the garbage times: a short story'

making someone laugh hard/long enough for you to say 'yeah but you'll abandon me when shit gets dark and depressing' without them hearing you
calmly becoming a red hot coal that burns anyone who touches it or exploding out the nails inside of you
my favorite part of working at bars is that i'm going to die
videogame where the goal in each level is to hunt yourself down and brutally stab yourself to death
urge to dress in a suit and carry a briefcase and go into a bar and sit at the bar and set my briefcase on the bar and open it and it's full of pretzels and i just sit there eating the pretzels not talking to anyone
don't tell anyone, but when i was alone in the basement at work last night my head exploded and--lying on the floor dead--i swept it back up onto my shoulders with my hands and kept going
started a new blog called THE BOTTOM LINE, where i'm going to post quickly written, unresearched essays on whatever people suggest, via this post, email (sampinkisalive at g mail dot com) or however else.  encourage you to suggest single word, not necessarily expansive topics, like 'blueberries' or 'nerf' or whatever. but whatever works jo.  also will consider guest posts, email me those.
when you progress from talking to yourself to just imagining random ways for you to fall and smash your face/head on something, and start laughing


if anyone can help, or knows someone who can help, lay out a book interior and cover (front and back), email me   sampinkisalive  AT   g mail  DOT com


walking home at 1am and crossing over a bridge that gaps a highway and looking at the moon above and feeling your heart beat harder just once, you raise your arms and fists and look at them raised in the shadow directly in front of you


winking and making a kissy-face when you notice someone noticing your severe b.o.
'kurt cobain' as slang for violent oral sex


that shit where suddenly the only thing that makes sense is to go up to someone on the street and empty your pockets and hand it all to them then take off your shirt and shoes and run away
the me viewing the me who is comically unaware of his bullshit until he is humbled by it
that scary moment when life gives you something you really want and you wonder if you can handle it


whenever  i hear someone use the phrase 'i'm so over it' i always want to lean in (preferably while eating a small bag of chips, smiling like an asshole) and say, 'you mean you were never into it.'


smiling and putting your finger over your lips and saying, 'shhhh' is almost always the best response
clearing out everything in the fridge, including the shelves, and getting inside dressed like a slice of pizza so when your roommate comes home and opens the fridge you can be like, 'hey, looking to steal me from your roommate when all he wants to do is eat me after working sixteen hours in a shithole you MOTHERFUCKING THIEF!'
waiting for an advancement in culture where people openly admit they want to be bossed and totally controlled


my baby rontel has been dead for almost a year. i  have a 2'x3' poster of him as a kitten and i'll handwrite as much of 'rontel' on the back of it as i can (feel like i can get it all if i try hard enough. but i have to try hard enough, i have to) for whoever offers the most. i need money for a new computer. sampinkisalive  at  g mail  dot com
grappling hook of blowing a kiss as you fall down a bottomless pit
if anyone has any reading opportunities email me, even if it's reading to just you at your apartment

and/or if anyone knows how to sew well, my leather jacket is all fucked up
if anyone reading this has a cheap computer they'd like to sell, email sampinkisalive  at g  mail.com

there is a glitch looking thing covering half the screen on mine
slowly dying in chicago, a love story


little known fact that it's physically impossible to kill a dago if he's in dress pants, a white tshirt and a leather jacket
the cool thing about being bi polar is that to others it doesn't seem like anything is wrong with you, you're just an unpredictable asshole for no reason.

another cool thing is having to exist as the silent babysitter for that unpredictable person.

only comprehending most mainstream society/interactions/debates/ideas as an elephant who tripped and broke a leg and then billions of ants began to eat it
well, shit, we'd love to hire you here at (coffee shop/clothing store/salon/etc) but you just don't seem to have your septum pierced...


that moment where you laugh and just barely stop yourself from jumping off a train platform to try and grab the streetlight below
is there a medical condition where it feels like the sun is trying to burst out of your head
if i had a kid who became the world's worst serial killer, when i was on the news i'd shrug and say, 'i'm just glad he didn't become a high school football coach.'
kickstarter/gofundme to buy a loner kid an ice cream cone
willing my future ghost to the fog on lake michigan
when a dog bites you and then backs away in fear
recurring urge to, when near a brick wall, mutter, 'this one's for (someone's name)' and then run into the wall
willing my future ghost to the hearts of those being bullied in any way
performance art piece where you break into someone's house and hide somewhere until you starve to death
alienating way more people when happy/in a good mood because of how fast you're talking and how you don't blink at all and have no barriers
almost sick with how much i anticipate screaming 'fuck you' in my boss's (owner of the company) face and seeing the fear
is there a medical condition where you get boners in your sleep that are so hard they wake you up
remember like three years ago when it was in vogue for people (condescending art pricks/hipsters) to passively mock 'juggalos/that culture.'
when one of the only meaningful interactions you have is a homeless guy telling you your beard has class
lasted ten seconds in my first visit to an urban outfitters and now truly understand what a stray dog feels
tying the laces of the boot on your throat
walking down the street screaming the song playing in your headphones, making grand hand gestures, pointing at people you pass and winking at them, smiling at dogs, and feeling like your head is partially missing
tyler perry movie starring me dressed as an overweight sassy aunt named 'Auntie Soshul.'
quickest way to alienate an entire bar is to put on the 'hiv/aids' song by ween
the song 'raping a slave' by swans
had urge to grab bald man's head from behind on bus and lick the stubble and then make a serious face when he looks at me and say, 'now do you believe me' and get off the bus while maintaining serious eye-contact
a 21 thumbs-down salute at my funeral
defend your neighborhood from frozen yogurt places


that 'extra trying-too-hard to look meek/slouched/sad/adorable/oh i didn't even know there was a camera there look' preferred by most artsy/indie/hipster/[you know what i'm talking about] type dudes


going to start responding to all texts/emails in an italian accent. like, 'thank'a you fuh-you email, i'a make'adda nice'a story fuh-yoo magazineh, ah?'


new kind of scum known as 'juice bar employee' whose primary work-skill is being comically over-enthusiastic
people always make 'having to walk on eggshells around you' seem like it's not a compliment


when you say, 'hey brother' to the hotdogs spinning under the heat lamp at 7-eleven
new poem:

a woman in yoga pants browsing shoes online at a coffee shop
dudes who wear a backwards/slightly to the side baseball hat perched just on top of their head who arent in a gang identifying allegiance...
judging by the blackhawks and the cubs, well-to-do people enjoy having a place to go to get excited about something they don't understand or care about
viewing some days as a 'light tour of death.'
new habit of asking assholes,  'who trained you?'
service dog that growls and snaps at people to ward them off so  you don't have to do it slowly by being anti-social/angry/emotionless
can't fucking stand interacting with people who view friendships/romantic relationships in the context of 'power.'
the unsung hero that is your favorite drug hoodie/shirt/
supes anti-soash


walked by person staring at huge wall of pepsi products at the grocery store and i had the urge to lean in and say, 'try the 2 liter' and wink
that weird moment when you--seemingly from somewhere outside yourself--earnestly think, 'they can eat you at any time though.'
that magical third/fourth day in a row of not showering where your hair is so dirty it looks styled.
identify with people (mostly kids) who use a lot of sound fx in their storytelling, including 'doosh' for hitting sound
man, you KNOW you're fucked when you start caring about crystals/gems/healing stones...


be funny if people held the same kind of 'ban/shun/disregard/destroy/ attitude towards un-pc scientists/mathematicians as they did 'artists.'
recommend getting into 'arts' for the entertainment of encountering levels of fakeness you didn't think could be real outside of people who want to be actors
thinking 'hey brother' when you see broken glass in the gutter walking home at 3am
learning to calmly navigate people like they're poisonous plants or security lasers in a vault room


one thing missing from the 'lit scene' is stinky metalhead chicks who will beat people up before you even get a chance.
dog that i train to viciously maul any drunk person trying to talk to me


much love and thanks to Geraldine at Potash Brothers on State St. and Chestnut.  you make me happy.


going to start responding to questions about writing advice not with anything personal but just, 'kiss a lot of ass and support people you don't really like because then they'll do that to you.'  
easing into a full-time role as the shithead you know you are, like slowly entering a hot tub.
remembering that almost everyone's personality is the result of what they can/can't do to others
really confused why more sports teams dont just send a representative to their city's local bars for information from out of shape guys on how to play the sport they play
a teddy bear with a single bowie knife horn in the middle of its head
an endless desert of the dust you create while grinding your teeth around others in public
that strange viciousness/brutality among a group of women when you express attraction to a larger woman who isn't present.
feeling like a stranger all day and then realizing it's because the tshirt you jus bought from the dollar store smells like someone else has worn it for a couple months
prize for shortest amount of time needed to startle a cashier with your miserable dead ass self
that four seconds of happiness before you piss when you shake your dick around a little then go back to being miserable


that weird phenomenon where someone establishes an identity for themselves based on rejecting the identity of the subculture theyre in, for instance when someone primarily surrounded by 'artists/writers' who goes to readings and tries to be (the kind of artist in question) rejects art/writing, to appeal to thaat very same audience by appearing outside of it
i recommend saying something like, 'i am...doing terrible...totally miserable' when someone asks 'how you're doing' before you order coffee/whtever.  but say it while smiling.
trying to find a way to communicate to servers/waitresses/anyone serving or helping me at an establishment, that s/he doesn't have to be nice to me and try to make my time/experience fun, they can just be themselves because i'm already embarrassed by being treated with any preference/at all and they have to do the nice act for all those other crybaby pampered assholes anyway


disney movie called 'nigel beanberry' about an animate piece of garbage and his attempts to befriend things/people in the city
autobiography titled, 'how a rock was mistaken for a human for (x) years'
most conversation transitions should just be 'ok, now you talk about yourself.' 
learning to embrace your overly self-militant lifestyle
don't use the phrase/idea  'bro-code/man-code' with me. i don't give a fuck about you and you're not on my team.
the answer is, 'because you just asked me why i looked so sad/pissed.'

i have a story translated into polish in this anthology.


i have copies of all my books if anyone wants to buy them.  sampinkisalive  AT  g MAIL dot com.


the next step in talking to yourself: where you not only start responding to things you're saying, but also making the facial expressions that go along with them


that pleasurable feeling of putting your tongue over your bottom lip then scraping the under-lip hairs into your tongue with your front teeth to spear your tongue.

email and response


I just finished person and liked it i think. I know somebody else must have pointed this out already but there is not chapter 34. You just skip from 33 to 35. I want chapter 34 if you are willing to give it to me. Maybe I'm being too demanding. Feel free to keep chapter 34 to yourself. All I am trying to say is this: good book man. 


you think you deserve a 34th chapter?  


hey 'T-- F---' brand granola, i REALLY love your granola...that is, i think i would IF I COULD GET YOUR FUCKING BAG OPEN ! your bag is so hard to open! why!? FUCK YOU, YOU SUCK! :p
anytime you find yourself equating 'web hits' with value, just remember that  a video of a baby farting or a guy falling on ice will always have millions of hits
if you're involved in any way with the chicago 'Redeye' newspaper, you're awful.
that truly alienating feeling resulting from considering the amount of shows dedicated to a panel discussion on sports

the pain i felt when the cashier at 7-eleven asked me to move my apple fritter so he could scan the thing beneath it, saying, 'i dont want to touch it.'  but why, why won't you touch it.
that subtly egotistical macho close-mindedness of an academic acting morally superior
restoring a lot of mental health by talking less and reacting less.
blues song called 'woke up this mornin and lay in bed flexin my boner 'cause it's my day off and i ain't got shit to do because life sucks'
walking home at 7am, rain on my breakfast sandwich


when feeling bad or in a bad situation, thinking phrases that describe smething that is almost definitely happening, like, 'scorpion under a rock' or 'pet breathing' or 'small wave ending' or 'branch breaking' or 'puddle forming'
setting up a terrarium/aquarium then never putting a living thing in it seems satisfying
not enough openmindedness towards 'completely ignoring someone' (in a way that's more like, 'allowing to pass') as a legitimate response in person.
there aren't enough places to lay down for a minute or two in public
that moment in your life where you finally admit that yeah, if you had a perfectly mummified elephant ear you'd wrap it around your face/head every night before bed
have seven copies of the spanish translation of 'the no hellos diet' ('la dieta de los no hola' Alpha Decay Press) if anyone wants one.  sampinkisalive AT g  mail  dot com
horror movie called 'helLOL.'

cover is a phone screen with 'helLOL' on it and the reflection of a terrified woman.

caption says, 'when he's Jking, that means 'just killing''


sometimes think 'prime sugar ray leonard' and feel a moment of joy
really appreciate and feel a little close to anyone who takes time to read my books.  it has improved my life.  thanks.
have a small blank (including cover) hardcover journal thing that looks like a book and i will make a cover for it and handwrite a part of a new book in it for a small fee.  in the interest of transparency, the money will be used to buy new work boots

also have a single copy each of the original printing of 'gerald mcclellan vs nigel benn' and the original 'clone myself...'  (from paper hero press)
someone should start a website called 'that's awful' (where various writers write about whatever they think is awful)
one thing's for sure, people don't change, only the outlets for their bullshit


'do i wet down the hair on the back and sides of my head or don't i?'--the difference between 'casual' and 'formal' wear
regret not taking that baby i was offered at the grocery store
true, a lot of readings suck, but you don't have the right to say that when you're the one self-amusedly reading tweets about drake off your phone.

chicago doom


that clever rhetorical move people do when they view you as 'winning' the argument where they make a statement so absurd you immediately have to defend yourself from it, thereby being on 'their side' again. like 'so you think i'm stupid then.'
when i read some spartan idea about owning more than one set of clothes making you weak, i immediately felt good about my 'no one needs more than two pairs of pants' philosophy
the ultimate test of 'would you sell-out' is whether or not you'd do something if the payment was an immortal baby rhino

tuesday joke of the day

q: how many cubs fans does it take to screw in a lightbulb?

a: shit, i don't know...but fuck are they a bunch of spoiled yuppy drunk frat boy asshole pieces of shit who are terrible and make me fucking sick!
flirting technique where i have no expression on my face and i make extended eye contact
even though i know many many who do, making more than 20k a year seems mythical.
pursuit of an ideology/lifestyle so strict and barren it reduces you to little more than a smiling poisonous plant
people who say they value honesty over everything are the first ones to reject you when you're  honest
when the snow melts in the alley and beneath it is a smashed dollhouse and a bunch of hypodermic needles
ideal of helping/respecting/loving people who are and have been shit on and rejected, while aggressively rejecting everyone else
culture of being such a loser tht you are genuinely upset when your favorite celebrity is mocked by someone
culture of blind support for others you perceive to be like you without any real life parallels in terms of economic class or life experience/attitude, and blind rejection of others you perceive to be unlike you based on something easily identifiable but not in any way indicative of who they are.
college writing course called 'books about a hellish dystopian end of the world scenario written by guys who don't ejaculate enough.'
free descriptor for any music journalist writing about heavy music:  'like satan's indigestion played through a speaker in his ulcer.'
anybody else get that 'weird uncle who's trying to finger your butthole' vibe from how some people write about writing, like the beauty of sentences etc?
i have a story in a polish anthology


have never and will never trust someone who maintains the approval of a large number of people.
the correct response when a bank-teller says 'lotta dog hairs in here huh?'--as he's sorting through the change you gave him to exchange for paper--is: 'yo it's cool though.'
'happy' or 'optimistic' as a negative stance since it's mostly/usually just the result of not knowing enough
that moment when something about you, or some time period in your life, changes from being something you hated to being the long set-up for a present or future success/moment and you feel a little more lost but good about it
hey when shit gets rough or things aren't going your way just group up and attack someone to defer putting attention on yourself for being a spoiled whiny unfortunate consequence of having relatively no problems and no sense of purpose in the world
PERSON and CLONE are available in argentina here's a picture


more pictures up on the instagram.  i think all of them will be up soon.
video of a group of guys at a bar eating wings and watching sports and talking, periodically cutting to a screen with a stat from the revolutionary war.

self-help book titled 'how to get through the day saying 50 words or less'


had to stop walking and laugh when a car slowly rolled by me at a stoplight and a big-ass dog made eyecontact from the passenger window until out of view
a book can't be 'honest'
the nice thing about everyone's inclination to document everything is that future generations will have no problem seeing what kind of assholes we all were
just remembered working at a daycare, where the phrase if someone started whining was 'you get what you get and you dont get upset' and then when george bush jr was re-elected and the teachers at the daycare were whining abotu it i said, 'you get what you get and you don't get upset' and it got the laughs.


i'm really good at sweet-talking/charming old ladies but i never know how to transition into asking them on a date
laughed today when i saw a college athlete crying after losing, knowing how many people he probably made feel like shit all throughout school.
hey, just my opinion or whatever, but if you've ever been a part of a bachelorette/bachelor party then....fuck you , you're terrible and i hate you and i hope you die


the rarely-used but always-correct response of making the 'crazy/cuckoo' gesture with one finger while pointing at yourself.
quick advertisement for a courtroom drama where the lawyer slams down his/her hands in front of the witness and says, 'just admit it, you wuv peppawoni!'
hour-long news report called 'water: when is enough enough?' where it opens with water being poured into a glass, overflowing, and a voice-over says, 'we all know what water is...but when is enough enough?' and then for an hour a reporter interviews people on the street about how they feel about water in its various uses, including having some people drink a cup and talk about it.
in 2020(?) a person with anything resembling a unique unbiased thought will be elected president based on people thinking s/he is a magician.
judging a potential mate by how much she will help dilute the rampant and near-insane paranoia passed down paternally


chicago doom

support Bongripper
if anyone is having trouble deciding on a name for their newborn, might i suggest 'Skurblington Glubnik'


'chugs dick' instead of 'this sucks.'


momentary feeling of religion/blessing when i woke up today to half a foot of snow, thusly shitting on everyone's high-hopes for the spring-like weather we'd been having. HAHHAH!
judging what's good in your life based on if it makes you feel better about dying (since it convinces you, even if for a little bit, that there is a point and it's not all random)  

judging what's bad in your life based on if it makes you feel better about dying (since at least there is an end to it) 
that moment when you encounter your landlord in the gangway and it's snowing out and he says, 'are you ok?' and you say, 'yeah why?' and he says, 'because you're barefoot.'
the unparalleled calmness of sitting at a table in the grocery store cafe area and just staring
entitlement 101: bachellorette party at a bar
there's an instagram for my drawings. it should have all 70+ drawings up soon.  thank you erica chang for your help. i dont run the site so if you try to contact me through it or whtever, i dont know.
thing where anytime anyone gets within three feet of you, you get on your hands and knees and ram the top of your head at his/her feet/ankles until they leave.


action-thriller novel taking place entirely inside the narrator's head as the narrator tries to make it back to his/her room after work.


predominant mental state of telling myself to settle the fuck down
silently entertained myself for like thirty-seconds by imagining myself in a high-stakes situation where i have to quietly undo and add more weight to an adjustable dumbbell while the bad-guy sleeps close by.  
this is pretty good
brief vision of three little fairies dressed like the 'nasty boyz' flying around a kid's rattail and braiding it.
recommend sleeping in a very dark room with a 'woodwick' candle burning (the candle that recreates the 'soothing crackle' of a campfire!) if you want to wake up and briefly think you are in a cave on a magical journey
'writer's block' as too many crumbs and animal hairs beneath the keys of your keyboard
the box that a 'magic bullet' blender comes in makes a great desk if you sit on the floor with your legs extended on either side of it.
the way music journalists try to describe the sound of a heavy band is always funny to me
the quick and decisive counter-argument to 'people are inherently good' is 'go to a chicago bar the saturday before st. patrick's day.'


the eternal question, 'why does my room smell like piss kind of?'
it's always ok to say 'you're not saying much' but never 'you're talking too much'
valentine's day card that says, 'fuck it, i'd eat the garlic out of your (whistling sound) if you had a yeast infection'
one stereotype/caricature that no one will ever protest, even if they're italian, is the 'pudgy chef with a moustache holding a pizza doing the fingers and thumb together gesture with one hand.'
modified form of cuddling called 'gruddling' where you just lay your weight across someone so they can't move
willing to write a series of  'slices across the country' articles for 'Pizza Today' magazine for little more than funding.
that awesome moment when you remember you don't have to be that serious about whatever you're writing because it's not science so you can do whatever you want. shift change between uptight dad and laughing devil.


saying, 'sorry i've just been absolutely noodlenuggets lattely' to explain how you've been acting/feeling.
'no, YOU listen!' seems like a good thing to say walking down the street alone
carrying around a shitty cardboard replica of a gear-shifter so during a conversation, if someone says something you don't like, you can dramatically put the gear in 'reverse' and review the topic, or if you like what you're hearing, put it in 'neutral' and let it ride.  things like that.
increasingly more aware of/ok with the possibility of there being ghostpeople who live in the basement at my work who will be friendly towards me as long as i don't tell anyone about them
father/daughter dance at a wedding to 'they all must be slaughtered' by melvins


anti-cocaine campaign where you just show real footage of people talking/interacting while on cocaine
much love to the compacted gray snow that will still survive another month, even through the melting
people who treat their kid like a superstar/friend in public vs people who treat their kid like another member of the public
much love to the lady using a walker passing by the shoe store with her man, who said, 'nah fuck that, them shoes old as i am' and kept walking.
recommend going to the kmart near ashland and division for their 'going out of business' sale if you need draws or socks or dickies or even tshirts with rude sayings on them
much love to whoever has been tagging 'fake culture' on stuff
living out your hollow, unjust, disrespectful and conceited fantasies through contemporary pop-culture rap music
sequel to/remake of 'little mermaid' where i live underwater and i'm ursula's sex/love-slave and personal assassin and it's mostly just me telling her how awesome and pretty she is and like, painting her nails for her and combing her hair and then at one point she's like, 'oh yeah, i hate ariel go kill her' and i catch ariel and her dude on a romantic boat-ride and pull them both underwater and bring them to ursula and then i just sit there smiling with my eyes wide open while ursula crucifies and tortures them both.
dreamed jereme dean and i were picking up endless pieces of broken glass off the floor at my parent's.


yeah motherfucker that IS me. and no, i don't need money for deodorant. but guess what, i smell that way because i work hard doing my job and most of yours, you ungrateful fuck! FUCK YOU, YOU SUCK!
that constant feeling of being alone against a world of groups who will, if they can, completely use and destroy you
coping mechanism of imagining someone slicing down the middle of your head with a sword
coworker was reading an article on her phone and told me the title and without ever having read anything on 'buzzfeed' i guessed it was buzzfeed and then read the article with her and felt dizzy and sick and then hollowed out and alienated.
self-help book titled, 'if you think i'm harsh and condemning to other people, you should see how i treat myself!'