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'