Christopher Lindstrom

blah blah blah blah blah



[christopherdlindstrom@gmail.com]






a note for employers:
as far as ya'll concerned, all writing on this little blog thing is fictional and totally not real and i'm not such a complete mess in real life like i wear pants sometimes, not basketball shorts all the time, i promise, please believe that, you gotta believe that, please!

(i posted this earlier but the formatting was whack)

If any poets in the Boston/South Shore area are interested in doing a reading for actual cash money, i might have a cool opportunity for you. Hit me up on tumblr or email me at christopherdlindstrom@gmail.com 

it dawned on me today that if i lost one of my front teeth, i’d probably have to go without for like a really long time. i have no tooth money, wonky probably fake health insurance, and my dentist unfriended me on facebook so i don’t think he’s even my dentist anymore.

i would be toothless forever.

christopherlindstrom:

aegirmag:

A look at some of the sample spreads for the Aegir indiegogo! featuring work from DJ Nelson, Sarah Hamburger, Ryan Nicholson, Cassandra de Alba, Dee Mac, and Marina Santiago!

Just in case people missed it before, the literary magazine I’ve been working on is now accepting pre-orders on Indiegogo if that’s something that sounds cool to you. 

aegirmag:

A look at some of the sample spreads for the Aegir indiegogo! featuring work from DJ Nelson, Sarah Hamburger, Ryan Nicholson, Cassandra de Alba, Dee Mac, and Marina Santiago!

Just in case people missed it before, the literary magazine I’ve been working on is now accepting pre-orders on Indiegogo if that’s something that sounds cool to you. 

aegirmag:

Our Indiegogo campaign has officially launched! Pre-order your copy today.

And thank you again to all our contributors and to all the people that submitted.

The magazine I’ve been working on just launched their fundraising campaign on Columbus Day because fuck Columbus Day. Check it out!

should i know what saffron is yet?

in high school, i once played ‘my heart will go on’ on a keyboard inside a radioshack to try to impress a date. like, i told her “hey, let’s go in here for a sec.” and then i played it and i had to relearn most of the intro so the whole process took like 6 minutes. i was either sweating or panicking that i might possibly be sweating and an employee was maybe telling me to stop. i’m almost certain that the first thing i’ll see when i die is that radioshack and when i see it, i’ll know there is a hell. 

or a purgatory. it could’ve been a purgatory. i ate fried dough like 2 hours later that night. all’s well that ends fried dough.

joobr:

$25 bust
$40 full body/simple bg
$100+ full illustration

WILL DRAW: everything!! NSFW requests are encouraged lol I WANT TO MAKE NICE PICTURES FOR YOU!!!

send me an email at HIERONYMUSROBOT[at]GMAIL.COM to buy your very own juber drawing wink wonk

if you need art done, commission joobr! she is very great/cool.

bank tellers don’t like it when you eat baguettes in line. they don’t care if you’re hungry or if you’ve been struggling. they don’t care if most of the crumbs ended up on your shirt and not on the ground. they don’t even want your money.

electronochuckyoung:

welcome to AND BACK

the morning waterboards me
with its small talk.
and now we all get to put
our big dumb bodies into this machine.
the conductor smells like you.
i fold my arms across my chest
and fall asleep against a window.
dreaming about a party
thrown at your grave.
it’s really great to see
all those ex-girlfriends in one place.

sometimes the train is a church and getting off is communion.

we had nothing in common
besides the fact that we both loved
the same dead person
and were sad about it.
my grandma was a drawer.
my grandma was a dresser.
even if it’s a heavily populated funeral,
it’s still a funeral and you’re still
just a body in a box.
don’t be afraid
to honor your emotions.

the only ghosts that are scary are the ones that were ourselves.

i still want to audit
a course on you
taught by you,
put my lips
to your bugspray body,
taste the summer in you.
you look like
you smell like cigarettes.
and we’re all tan
in the nude
on city streets,
splashing around
in open fire hydrants
and kissing.

no one suicides on champagne.

walking your dead dog
under waning gibbous
so at least one of us
can get some exercise
and my condolences
but i loved you
and love is a four letter word.
but sometimes you have to
give up on a person
because the alternative
will kill you
and then there’d be two bodies
instead of one
and now it’s just basic math.
you’re doing this for math.

usually you love someone’s ghost for longer than you loved their person.

when you’re looking forward
to the future being ‘brighter’,
you’re converting the present
to simply ‘waiting.’
and how can you live
an enriching present
if you’re just trying
to get through it?
i can probably trace it all back
to being 13 and thinking,
“i wish i could eat your cancer
when you turn black,”
was the most romantic lyric
i had ever heard.

the coolest thing about been to hell and back is the and back; welcome to and back.

there are giants
and they have been
waiting for me.
you can tell
what kind of life
you’ve lived
by the amount
of shoulders
you can count
in the darkness.
my emotional rhonda
is southern.
my physical rhonda
is midwestern.
the most primal
part of me
misses the most primal
part of you
but that’s about it.
walking around the house
i grew up in
looking at pictures
of dead things
on the walls
and tables and mantles.

today i bought a monkey, named him memory, and now he lives on my back.

i thin my blood
with alcohol and tubs
because i still just don’t think
i’m done bleeding on you.
people say they drink
to take the edge off.
i drink to file my edges
so far gone
that i end up
a smooth ball
of light
floating around
feeling something
akin to what love feels like.
sometimes i get drunk
and want people to tell me
that they know who i am
because sometimes i get drunk and i forget.

it’s dangerous to hang out with people made out of baskets when your self-worth is shaped like eggs.

take drugs
in the late night hours
of your parents’ kitchen,
carve pumpkins
until early morning,
and then go around
the neighborhood
putting them on
people’s porches,
lighting candles within them.
sleep next to your phone
but not because you think
you’re popular,
it’s just that you’re always expecting
the kind of bad news
that only comes
in the middle of the night.