^{Sam Pink
Person
Eraserhead Press
Oct. 1, 2010
90 pages, $8.00}

Comedian Tig Notaro has a stand-up bit about walking down the street and passing a man who says to her, “Ah, them a little titties. I thought you was a man.” Relaying the anecdote onstage, she observes, “OK if you think that and OK if you say that—to yourself. But that thought had to go through several layers of filters in his mind and a checklist. And he still decided, ‘Yeah, I’m gonna need to say this.’”

The truth is we’re all prone to inappropriate thoughts. Most of us just have the sense to restrict random bursts of potentially damaging and/or incriminating insight to harmless interior monologues. Can’t make out a stranger’s gender? That’s cool. No need to announce your confusion. Curious how that attractive gal appears naked? Take a quick mental pic before you creep her out with your serial-killer gaze. Deep down, everyone is a bit deranged, which is why Sam Pink’s protagonist in Person is slightly endearing.  His first-person narrative is peppered with admirable ideas (the creation of a Worldwide Friendship Mandate everyone must sign to create a harmonious society), relatable impulses (“I want badly to take off my clothes and walk down the street, but then I remember the legal requirement of being clothed”) and observations (“I find myself looking at the words ‘San Francisco’ on her sweatshirt and the odd looking breasts that are probably behind”). But for every reasonable jab at ordinary conformity there’s a troubling build-up of rage and self-destructive desire that makes Person incredibly unsettling.

In other words, he’s a great example of why I carry Mace.