Crushing Krisis

Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand

Archives for February 2001

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*swoon* – Shirley Manson of Garbage mentioned in her personal diary that my favourite sexy bitch of a drummer, Matt Chamberlain, is going to be playing on a song or two on their new album. Does it get any better? Shirley even mentioned how she crushes on Tori! I love mutual appreciation societies!

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/02/2241550/

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Someone you know bought himself a sweet electric-acoustic guitar yesterday. He isn’t quite used to the amazingly easy action on it (as opposed to his guitar, which is like playing piano strings with your bare hands), but promises an obscenely unrehearsed Trio tonight. Maybe even two. Yum.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/02/2241291/

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I woke up shaking early Saturday morning. I didn’t really understand it at first, i was just shaking so hard that i could barely make it out of bed. As i got a little closer to my radiator i realized that my fever had spiked and the result was that i was shivering so hard i could barely stand.


Times like these i am appreciative of my conveniently located bathroom.

I don’t know quite why, but whenever i feel sick i head for the bathroom. It’s not always the best equipped place for me to be, but i always run to it anyway. Its big draw to me this time was that it’s a tiny room with its own radiator, so it would be at least twice as warm as my bedroom. And it was, but i was still entirely too cold. I sat on the floor with my fingers carefully woven into the open bits of the radiator for several long minutes, shivering and chattering, until i finally steeled myself to go get more clothes.


I came back in three layers and a winter jacket, and i was still midly shaking. The radiator’s waning heat wasn’t enough to pierce through all my layers, and i sat on my bathroom floor for another couple of long minutes trying to decide what to do. Eventually i turned on the faucet as hot as it would go and plunged my hands into the water. At first it was so hot that i could barely take it, but every time i pulled away my hands stung so badly that i had to put them back. Soon the temperature of my hands was responding to the water, and i could feel every pulse beating against the tips of my fingers as if they should open up so my hot blood could seep out and pour down the drain.

I sat like that for as long as the water lasted – maybe a half hour. When the temperature got too low to sustain me i pressed my warm hands tight against my face until i felt strong enough to crawl back to the bedroom, zip up my flannel sleeping bag, and crawl into it still wearing my winter coat.

I was fine in the morning; it almost seemed as though i dreamed the whole thing except how i was pasted to my tee-shirt in sweat and there was a discarded winter jacket kicked down to the bottom of my sleeping bag.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/02/2241260/