Please Reblog: Christopher Gutierrez launches Kickstarter for his new book ‘Maybe He’ll Grow Out Of It’.
My favorite author, Christopher Gutierrez, has recently launched a Kickstarter campaign to help raise money for his upcoming book ‘Maybe He’ll Grow Out Of It: A Memoir in 45 Short Stories’. This book contains 5 stories from each of his six releases, plus 15 rare/unreleased stories and other quips of wisdom. In short, this is something of a ‘greatest hits’ for him, so if you haven’t ever read any of his works, this is a great gateway!
Christopher is the epitome of a stand-up dude in today’s society. A true artist, a loyal friend and a DIY author, his work is never short of inspirational and eye-opening. If you have the means, please support this awesome artist and pledge for a copy of his new book. Not only will you be receiving a copy of the book, but you’ll also be helping (literally) to put food on his table, and perpetuate future releases from the Deadxstop Publishing Company.
The man, the myth, the spaz. Two hours with none other than Chris himself. Totally worth all the public-transit commuting to laugh about savages, hair salons and Henry Rollins for a few hours.
This is easily one of the most genuine people you’ll ever meet. Go check him out at deadxstop.com, deadxstop.tumblr.com or askheychris.livejournal.com and buy all his shit. It’ll be worth it, I promise you.
Support Independent Artist (And Give The Gift Of Love This Christmas Too!)
Ladies, are the men in your life just not getting the hints you’re dropping? Gentlemen, are you running out of fresh/creative/memorable ways to show your girl that she’s the bee’s knees? Looking for that perfect little gift that says “I like you, but not enough to drop $50 on you”? If so (and even if not), then look no further!
This little book right here (and I do mean little, like 3x5” little) is a one-stop-shop for 100 genuine, thought-provoking ways to show your lady some debonair style, courtesy of DIY author and lady-swooning mastermind Christopher Gutierrez. But wait. Let me guess. You’re saying to yourself ”..but Tommy. My girlfriend already knows I love her. Why would I drop my Starbucks money on this dinky little book-thing you’re blogging about?” A valid question, you’ve raised. But look at your life, and look at your choices. What better investment could you possibly make this holiday season than supporting starving artists AND learning how to treat your lady to something cooler than just another lame Bath & Body Works candle or gift-card like all the other dudes out there?
SO! For the low-low price of just $13 postage paid, you can get your paws on this gem. Now you’re thinking to yourself “Holy shit, this is madness you say!”, right? JUST WHEN YOU THOUGHT IT COULDN’T GET ANY BETTER, you can also get 4 of these hot puppies for just $36 postage paid. That’s four whole presents you just knocked out for less than the price of that fancy Modern Warfare 3 game you were trying to pick up for your little brother. Give one to your Dad! Pass one along to that best bud who just can’t seem to get back in the game! Hell, give one to a stranger!
THIS OFFER IS TOO FUCKING GOOD TO PASS UP.
Preorder yours now at deadxstop.com or askheychris.livejournal.com and thank me later! (Because you will. And your girlfriend. Trust me.)
Tired of smelling like rotten cabbage after a hard day’s practice? Want that cute beater from the visiting team to take you out to pizza after the big game? THEN LOOK NO FURTHER!
I was cleaning out my inbox when I got an update from my dude Chris, who not only runs his own publishing company but also make ridiculously delicious smelling soap on the side. (Personally, I’m a Kitten Breath fan). Think Fight Club, but with less hawaiian shirts and more bro-downs. See that screencap? He straight up name-dropped Quidditch like it was (and is) his job. Why aren’t we on this yet? WHAT ARE WE WAITING FOR?!
All his soaps are ultra-concentrated*, vegan-friendly, have a two-year shelf life, and just $10 a bottle plus shipping. In the long run, not only will you be saving mountains of money on those gallon tubs of foo-foo body wash/shampoo/conditioner you know you have, but you’ll smell so good, you’ll want to take yourself out on a hot date.
One year ago, I received a letter in the mail that changed everything. I went to check my mailbox when, out of nowhere, I found myself with a little package containing this letter. My favorite author, tasking me with the put-up-or-shut-up that I so desperately needed, that I so often pondered whenever life got in the way. For years, I’ve dabbled in putting to paper the things that came to mind. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been dubbed ‘the storyteller’ of my friends, the one who could take the most simple and trivial of happenings and turn it into a adjective-drizzled masterpiece of the most captivating magnitude. For awhile, I shrugged it off, thinking little of the often-repeated remark. Then, a few years ago, I got to thinking about just how badly I wanted to tell these stories, how eager I was to do something with this gift. That’s when the letter came, and in proper fashion, when I got straight to work.
Despite countless evenings drenched in complacency, last-minute bouts of inspiration and fits of panic, I never lost sight of that initial shock. I forced myself to write when I was least willing, dreading the moment that I looked at the calendar with nothing to show for myself. I set a schedule, which I soon threw out, and hit every misstep an artist could possibly make while inventing a few more. Some days, the ideas were more brilliant than others. Some evenings, I barely had to try to earn my own satisfaction at all. However, for the most part, having this little piece of paper stare me down twice a day was enough of a creative ass-kicking to buckle down, shut my mouth, and focus on the words. Words that I never thought would come to be. Words that I’m still convinced couldn’t have come from me. Words that dared to exist.
Today, I sit at this computer with a draft. It is not finished. It is not perfect, but it is a draft. As my eyes glance over every last one of these words that I’ve compiled and weaved together over the last calendar year, I cannot help but feel as if I’ve conquered something worthwhile. It may not be as long as I’d hoped. It may not be as fluid as I’d fought for it to be, but dammit, it’s something.
It’s something, and it’s something that I’m proud of.
For those of you who’ve helped me get to this, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. For those of you who had absolutely no clue, thank you for serving as some of the best inspiration I could ask for. Most of all , thank you Christopher, for proving to me that there is still creation left to be brought into this world, and for doing more than that awestruck 15-year-old kid who ate churros with you at Warped all those years ago could have ever asked for.
As for this letter, it’s going to stay right where I can see it every single morning until I type that last word, let out that final exhale, and make good on the promise I made to see this through one year ago today.
That will be my little victory, and I can’t wait to share it with the world.