daring you to go deeper into the shit


that delightful intersection of 'has to follow rules to continue employment' and 'can't hold back however many years of human instinct to harm anyone i don't like'
just remember, 99% of the people in your life are only nice/helpful to you because they either know they can't dick you over or haven't figured out how yet.
have never been inspired by anything pleasant/good/positive
nightly prayer of, 'may the fakeness i encounter tomorrow strengthen my resolve rather than cripple.'
my favorite part of working at a bar is walking up to a guy who won't leave a girl/girls alone and saying, 'hey stop talking to them' and then listening to him try to kiss my ass and say how he doesn't want to get beat up.
i'm a straight white male and i don't identify with or try to help out or give a fuck about other straight white males.  or any other abstract group.  so fuck off.
i respect artists who have nothing else


fuck it, i can't resist, here's chapter 2 of my new novel 'i'm stoned and i want to fuck'.  the first chapter is below a few posts.  gosh, enjoy!

chapter 2

at the doctor's office, which is where the guy was going and had gone and was at right now, the docotr was like, 'hey man, you have a disease in your
when someone tells you what kind of person they are
never ever ever representing anything other than yourself.
'club' song where in the middle, right before the part where the bass drum speeds up and everything, a guy in a robot voice goes, 'all my womens with the big asses and guts step to the front of the liiiiiiiiiine'
the way people love quirky tv or movie characters but then shun anyone different in real life
yo, people who still try to act 'punk': quit being a fucking stereotype.
that society mandates we can't just grab some people by the shirt and start punchign them in the face over and over is kind of shitty
people whose main personality trait is smoking weed.  it's like, we get it!  sheesh louise!


really shouldn't be doing this but my new shit is too hot to handle. so here's the first chapter to my new novel, forthcoming from harper perennial, titled I"M STONED AND I WANT TO FUCK'

chapter 1

the guy was on his way to the place. it was a place he'd never been before but that was ok because it wasn't the kind of place you had to have been to before to go there.  but wasn't every place? the guy reached into his pocket and found something.  he took it out. 'what the fuck is this,' he thought, looking at it.  then he remember it was his phone. another guy came up out of nowhere and was like, 'hey, what is lettuce.'  and the guy, not missing a note, said, 'it's  a vegetable dude.'  but the guy was more worried about the lettuce of his mind.  that spiritual lettuce, feel me?  at the place the guy went to, there were things all over.  you could grab the things but did one ever really touch them?  the guy wonder this as he worked on his homemade rocketship at home later.  it was a good rocket so far, but would it bring him back home? questions upon questions, like the fleeting sands of motherfucking time, like a delicate blister on the top of one's pissing area, to be treated with respect and concern.  timeless. fuck you rocket, he thought, but not really.
be good to the good people and shit on the rest; it's simple
the amazing capability of eyes to persuade other to have sex with you or not fuck with you.


if anyone in chicago has a place for me to set up and play drums, email me  sampinkisalive at g mail dot com.  i can pay a small amount.
one easy way to terrify people is to have manners and be courteous and not act purely out of self-interest/enjoyment/basic comfort
sometimes i worry people are having so much fun they're not going to remember to stop and take a picture of it/themselves doing it
Cast King, Faded Rose


if you don't imagine headbutting skyscrapers into the ground like pounding nails, then what the fuck
just wish more people would admit that they want to be strangled near death by me, in a not necessarily sexual way
no matter what anyone says, s/he is almost always acting in a way that ensures ordinary and normal and nonthreatening things are happening around them at all times.  
that strange compulsion people have to say 'i want to see this' when a movie commercial comes on
40-50 year old men wearing professional sports jerseys and matching backwards baseball hats reacting in highly emotional ways to what only ever amounts to people playing with a ball as a guise for selling advertisements that create a culture that makes people want to wear that jersey and backwards hat and react in highly emotional ways to what only ever amoutns to people playing with a ball to sell shit to shitheads adndo fuck you!
tri-fold self-help pamphlet titled: 'how to deal with a hurtin-ass boner at work' with a picture on the front of a man looking out a window and biting his fist with a worried look on his face
 casually mentioning at a job interview that you trained yourself how to do everything lefthanded/footed/sided because that's the side of the devil and you want to best serve


the ones who've been turned hatefully inward and the ones who should
bluesname 'Babyboy Dog-Bite'
Cast King, Saw Mill Man


'only to celebrate your death' would be a great way to start responding to someone after they ask that weird question, 'do you party?'
new phrase meaning roughly the same as 'when life hands you lemons...' except it's 'sometimes there's a huge pile of bloody tissue in the corner of the single-occupancy grocery store bathroom.'
immediately dismissing/trying to avoid anyone who says, 'oh my god i LOVE you' to someone after they discover they both like the same chapstick or something else totally trivial
the difference between making a book/song/whatever to use as personal jewelry or to use as a giant rock that you roll outside your place and hope it rolls and grows forever or until it breaks apart
damn dude you have no idea how awesome i think you are for trying to gain my approval by telling me about a girl you mistreated
that leaden depression where you just know a bat would burst into sawdust if it landed against your skull
biting the hand that feeds you for extra food
when two guys point at each other and say stuff like 'uh oh' or 'this guy' upon first seeing each other at a place they both agreed to meet at, that's code for, 'we're assholes.'
one way to guarantee an asshole will talk to you is minding your own business and looking at your feet
one thing people don't like/can't handle anymore is if you are completely earnest and without ceremony around them


trying to figure out how many ex-girlfriends someone stalks after reading/hearing him describe a piece of art in terms expressing the violent destruction of his brain/head


noticed i'd thought 'you never know how far your come is going to go' in the tone/meaning of 'there's always tomorrow'


redeemed myself in a social situation by reflexively sweeping up ash into my hand and putting it in my pocket
the true-ass depression of a person primarily concerned with making people laugh
the day all the stars turned into weighted knives
living as an actor vaguely aware of a role in which you are comically-dedicated to maintaining a version of yourself that is only an echo of what you think others should think about you
judging people by their laugh seems fair and accurate
love is being afraid of someone because  you're entirely sure  you'd let them kill you if they wanted
shout out to the kid on the bus this morning, the one whose legs didn't even reach the end of the seat, staring up at me like, 'what the fuck man, where's your winter coat, dipshit.'
not having any idea what to do when a stranger is making prolonged eye contact with you in public, you hold out your food-covered tongue and close your eyes and shake your head side to side so the food flies out.
internal people-scanning device that almost always reads, 'not on my team.'
congratulations on your stylish and expensive and neurotically maintained luxury apartment, i'm sure you make may people uncomfortable here.


always refreshing to see--in a devil smiling down on earth type of way--that no matter what the debate/issue is, people will always turn in into a one side/other side with absolutely no sense of freethinking.
the simple coping technique of, when you're in public, imagining yourself headbutting people.  not normal headbutts, but like a ram does it, with your whole back/shoulders. making that 'clack' sound.
what do you have
(thing shittalking an author/artist with a popularity level too far removed from my world to have any real consequence other than making me appear a rebel/alternative while praising authors/artists whose popularity level is nearer [but still above] mine to leech off them)
new stock response for people who walk up and show me videos on their phone. 'thank you for showing me that, can i show you my drawings...' (pull out a crumpled drawing on notebook paper of a headless stick figure with blood raining on it)
that weird moment where, after you say something that makes someone laugh, they say, 'what's that from.'
imagining myself in a cliched slow-motion/eyes meeting/speechless moment when i see a woman with a 'nasty boyz' haircut.
new public tic where you yell 'who wants to fucking do this!?' to whoever is around
that shit where the freezing walk home is suddenly awesome after seeing an orange marker in the gutter
if you're going to come up and comment on the beard at least sniff it or run your fingers through it or lick part of it.
the very real and very disappointing prospect of not dying by sword-through-heart
a funny way to quit your job would be to just walk towards the exit while pointing at different coworkers saying, 'lemme hear ya say, "ohhhhhh-ohhhh"'  and then encourage them to say 'ohhhhh-ohhhhhh' back while you nod and eventually just leave and never talk to anyone there again.


now that this blog has gone from a thousand views a day to like ten, i'd like to publicly state that i'm willing to do any available readings
any time i see a diet commercial, when they show the 'before' for a woman i'm like 'awww yeah' and then they show the after and i'm like 'oh'
'i never had a life, i don't even know what life is. have you?  have you?  had what you call a life?  everyday of my life.'
one undeniable example of why cats/dogs are better than most people is they never know anything about/want to talk about celebrity's lives.
if you write articles you're a sellout


my beard on your breasts
existing in a state of separation where i am a thing outside of myself that uses myself both to judge/condemn/hate/love/care for others and to do the same for myself.
'i am albino. you wish to see me?'
people who are really vocal about political/activist related issues that listen to music that counters those ideas and ensures their ideals will never happen
to all the people who are going to die this winter, it will be bad until you die and then there will be rest
the overwhelming disappointment every time you get on a bus and walk down the middle aisle and no one shoots an arrow at you
one of the purposes of twitter, seemingly, is to re-word popular song lyrics to be funny and then have people symbolize their liking of it through clicking something. we are free.
group interactions like a nondenominational war where slogans and catchphrases are the endless mortars.
vision of my head crushed with a hammer and flies coming out
depression as a publically shunned mindstate
the way people boldly accept their stereotype and throw it at you, and you just walk through it, dodging.
that classic dream where you wake up in a beautiful garden and find two swords on the ground and then destroy the garden
grown men who wear backwards baseball hats
tell me all about the movies you want to see
dudes that write reviews mentioning how they want to 'beat up' the author, knowing there is almost no chance of ever meeting the author. 

crumb on