Christopher Lindstrom

blah blah blah blah blah



christopherdlindstrom@gmail.com

People should talk to me if they want to because I’m out of Kim Kardashian: Hollywood action points and I don’t know what to do with myself.

christopherlindstrom:

aegirmag:

Aegir Magazine is looking for your art, photography, prose, poems and all things publishable in book form for our first issue this fall

Email your submissions to aegirmag@gmail.com

DEADLINE: JULY 24!!!

We are a full color print magazine

If you are underwhelmed with life, overwhelmed by snakes, and you think happiness can only be achieved through naps, we are you!

(check our tumblr for submission guidelines)

submissions are closing in 3 days! Submit or share with your art friends or don’t do anything. Whatever, we’re still cool.

I
you hit a hummingbird
in your grandmother’s Lincoln
and you forget to worry
about the damages
as you accelerate further up the hill

it might have been a moth
but you imagine a beak
in the blur
that smashes against your Me Ma’s
oatmeal deathtank

II
a man with a calf tattoo buys a chug jug
and sits by the window
watching strangers pump gas
for a good thirty minutes
on a saturday

III
Mumbo Number 5 plays once every three hours
it is 2014
and people still raise the roof sometimes
to Mumbo Number 5

IV
all the quarters that you have in your pocket
are really nickels that you thought were bigger
but no they are nickels
and you get to eat skittles for dinner again
which is still kinda rad

V
Happy follows you from the store
to your Continental
Pharrell Williams
becomes the moon following you home
asking you to clap if you feel like a room
his large hat blots out the stars

ash out cigarettes onto your legs
if you need to wake up enough
to tell the trees from the road

last night i made a post complaining about how my job sucks and i have no money but really, i don’t deserve money. my amazon wishlist is filled with swords and i own a painting of myself. i don’t deserve money at all. at all, i say!

aegirmag:

Aegir Magazine is looking for your art, photography, prose, poems and all things publishable in book form for our first issue this fall

Email your submissions to aegirmag@gmail.com

DEADLINE: JULY 24!!!

We are a full color print magazine

If you are underwhelmed with life, overwhelmed by snakes, and you think happiness can only be achieved through naps, we are you!

(check our tumblr for submission guidelines)

submissions are closing in 5 days! ;3

(via aegirmag)

So I’ve been pretending to myself that working at a gas station is good for my creativity even though it isn’t because getting covered in coffee and trash water and having to touch hotdogs and rotate hotdogs and be near hotdogs for 8 dollars an hour is not worth the loss of one’s soul.

Idk, prepare for my epic poem, no i don’t wanna tuck in my shirt, you monsters, when it drops. If it drops. I’m so goddamn tired.

you get the Boy Meets World sequel
that you deserve
and Mr. Feeny is a ghost
and Shawn probably never married Angela
and you always hoped that he would

no drug dealer wants to sell weed
to a fallen twenty six year old
whose hair often breaks before it gets long
nobody ever appreciates
a new looking shirt
nobody ever wants to see
a sad man eating a Rice Krispie Treat
in his car

there is a historic park
near your house
that you used to visit
there was a river at the park
there was a mill
the mill is now gone

if you ever go back there
if you ever visit
watch out for Danny
a ragamuffin youth
who will hound you for cigarettes
until you finally break apart

thinking about writing a novel about an austin powers cardboard cutout as it slowly disintegrates

I don’t think I’d ever want to be in a band again but also I really, really want to be in a band called Thanks for the Cocaine, Toby’s Mom! 

I got home from work to a screamscape horror show tonight. I walk in to my room and above my bed, on a giant ass web, a spider is battling an earwig. Just straight toothing an earwig 3 feet from where my angelic head sleeps at night. And I’m stunned by this and in this state, I notice another even creepier looking spider dangling next to my face.

So in a panic, I try to trap the dangling spider with a mug and a picture of John Cena (the closest paper thing to where I was?) and my trap fails and the spider falls onto the floor and I scream and the throw the mug on the ground hopefully at the spider, probably at nothing, and then I throw the John Cena picture in defeat and it falls onto a pile of clothes. 

At this point, I go into the hallway to cry into my large, adult hands. The idea of vanquishing 2 spiders, one hidden, and a half-dead earwig is too hopeless. It’s better to cry in a hallway. Shortly after this happens, my sister’s boyfriend comes out of her room into the hallway. He goes into my room, stomps on the ground a bunch, and then kills the spider/earwig combo with a different picture of John Cena.

A few minutes later, I go back into my room to survey the wreckage. No spiders in sight. I’m about to climb into bed when the other spider bites my foot. I scream and jump around and eventually I get him to start running around on a book that I keep turning to keep him from climbing onto my hand and we’re running downstairs when he bungees off and lands on my shorts. I scream again. And then I rip my shorts off and throw them on the ground and then throw the book on the ground at the shorts and then I run back upstairs and here I am now still having to be a person.