I woke up that morning with a hangover that could kill a platoon. I was at my father’s house. It was the first time I had been there in nine months. I spent the night before out in his back yard, smoking joints, writing and drinking his beers. Before that I had eaten dinner with him and his wife and afterward we talked for a few hours. The topic of conversation was my byife. This is always the topic of conversation when I see my Dad. I hate talking about myself but with him t
I was first hipped to the artist known as Sam Pink via some tasteful, gay bathtub porn he'd disseminated through his twitter feed. ‘Ho ho’, I said, ‘the algorithms are full of it today.’ When I scrolled through Pink's feed, I quickly ascertained that this cat had a sublime sense of humor and possibly a high degree of mental derangement. All those bizarre, intricate paintings and tongue-in-cheek threats of violence . . . Also, I saw that Sam is an author - and a prolific one!