Contests no more.

Hey all,

I just thought I would update everyone with my current standings, but before I should mention to Kris that I sent comments on your latest revision posted here to your email.

Well, the quick version is that I hurt my back 9 weeks ago and have been going through physical therapy. I lost my job because of the injury, and have been able to collect workmens comp throughout these 9 weeks (thank God!). I just got a job at Powell's Bookstore in the Portland Airport, and today I just recieved notice that my compensation has expired. The way God weaves what we call circumstance is utterly inexplicable.

Anyways, the title of this post relates to a poetry contest (Sarah Lawrence College) I entered in March. I just went to the website to check up on the contest; apparently, some dude already won. I wasn't expecting to win, but I guess I'm through entering these darn things--I'd like to put my resources (monetary and creative) elsewhere. To note, here is a poem from the guy who won the contest (Vertigo). It isn't his winning poem, but in case your interested; there ya go.

Out of the frustration of trying to break the publishing barrier, I was thinking of starting a website that would simply start with our stuff. An online literary journal of sorts, containing flash fiction, short stories, and poetry--more on that later, but I also mentioned to Kris that we should get together on a book of poetry that contains poems of structure and form...the lame title I thought of Form Reborn...gotta work on that... Here is a sonnet I just recently finished, discussing the issue of consumerism and how it contributes to racial divisions within the Church. I try to use polar opposites of status through SUVs and public transportation. Enjoy.<>

En Route To Christ
By Chris Lindgren
8 June 2005

To Christ! En route in SUV’s; tenure
Achieved, no matter who it shall impede,
And stainless cliques adored galore concede:
Their SUV’s will drive them to grandeur.
Windowed monads bursting forth; whose Savior
Kerouacting out one’s dingledodied
Life of surreptitious Zip-Coon-Dandied-
Deeds—segregating, driving to Zior.
Betwixt all this, a transit hub contains
The Jimmy Crowed anew—reconciled
With whose Savior takes the public buses
Too. Are we each others keepers? Whilst Cain,
I drive a stick? Christus, I defiled
Trumping over lower, ebon classes.

Sarah, I taught a Creative writing course with middle schoolers for a quarter, and man that was tough..I feel your pain. Good Luck with those punks.

Erik, where you at dude? Been writing lately?

Robert, I guess, is in Spain or something.

Kris, as you said, "I know about you, I know you."

Later all