Crushing Krisis

Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand

krisis

Krisis has been creating Crushing Krisis since 2000, writing songs since 1996, and reading comics since 1991. He is a Customer Success and Digital Brand Strategy executive, serial organizer, parent, and feminist, among other things. Based in Philly through 2017, he now resides in Wellington, NZ.

Emotional Spring Cleaning

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I should be subjected to some sort of electric shock of increasing frequency and severity whenever I let posting lapse for more than seven days. I wonder if there is a WordPress plugin for that.

Failing that, I at least have a persistent nagging in the depths of my soul. PETER, growls my inner OCD Godzilla (a voracious blog reader), YOUR BLOG IS STALE. A week and a half, maybe he can bear. Two weeks and he starts exhaling tiny wafts of smoke from his nose, and I’m like, Godzilla doesn’t breathe fire, right?

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I read a lot of blogs about betterment, simplification, and frugality. They all dole out advice about organizing and eliminating – make a clear surface or a paid off credit card, and then it’s easier to avoid the things you would clutter it with.

I’ll never quite attain that clear-surface perfection in my physical existence, but this past year I’ve been struggling to get there in my intellectual life.

A little over a year ago I had a lot of stuff on every surface of my mind. Event-planning. Marriage. Marketing. Songwriting. Blogging. Some piles were deeper. Identity management. Seemingly unfixable relationships.

For the past year every time I read one of those decluttering blog posts, instead of decluttering my desk or my bureau I decluttered some recess of my psyche.

It was scary for a while. I jettisoned some stuff I thought was pretty central to my existence. But you know what? None of it was. I am a husband, a songwriter, a blogger, a music-lover, a communicator, and an occasional activist.

All of the other stuff is just ornamentation, and there’s a thin line between emotional tchotchkes and emotional clutter.

And, anyway, OCD Godzilla needs a lot of space to roam. He is a free-range imaginary beast of the psyche.

Powerless in New Jersey

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I am supposed to be in New Jersey.

Yesterday was the closing night of bro-in-law’s final high school musical. Three years ago he had never acted, and last night we were supposed to see him sing an act full of solo songs and take a bow for the final time on his high school stage. And not just him. We’ve watched his castmates transform from shy Sophomores to powerful performers, most of whom we’ll probably never see again.

However, there was the problem of the rain.

In Philly it was just oppressively dreary, but as our car crept northward through NJ it became obvious that the effects of the storm were a little more tangible in our adjoining state.

First, a flooded road. Then, a route with power lines hanging over the road at a precarious 45-degree angle over the asphalt. Next, a traffic accident. Subsequently, downed trees.

When we finally arrived in E’s hometown we discovered the entire township or borough or whatever it is was without power! Even the high school, as her brother informed us sullenly via text.

There would be no closing night.

We drove carefully into E’s family’s cul de sac, black as pitch. After commiserating about the show we ate dinner by candlelight. When we were done, I excused myself to the adjoining room to bang on an out-of-tune piano I’ve been promising to have tuned for years.

As I bashed through cover songs, carefully avoiding the most dissonant keys, I contemplated.

We had ascribed so much value and meaning to the closing night. We came for the opening weekend too, but the last show was supposed to be extra special. Now, it didn’t exist. No final hurrah for the cast to sing even better or for us to clap even louder.

We didn’t get a closing night, but I’m still just as proud of our brother. And, in retrospect, I clapped just as hard as I could clap when we saw him last weekend.

The significant thing was really how many times I’ve seen him bow over the past three years – and how proud and loud I have been the entire time.

The significance isn’t in the next moment – it’s in the last ones. It’s in the moments of progress, not just the destination.

We loaded up the car to head home rather than brave the blackout for the night. Two minutes from E’s house we noticed a Target sign, lit up in red.

The power was back.

Bathed in the neon glow of stores powering up from their slumber, I wondered about my moments. Am I living my life now, or waiting for the next chance to live it? Am I waiting for the next show to play better? Waiting for the right moment to kiss E like I mean it?

Our route home was flooded, and E wanted to turn back. I rested my head on her shoulder as we paused in the jughandle, awaiting our turn.

“Do you want to go home to Philly?” I asked her?

She nodded yes.

“Then we’ll find a way to get there.”

A New Band a Day

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E has a way of ferreting out great new blogs out of nowhere.

Recently one of her finds was an awesome Brit blog A New Band a Day, which provides literate, in-depth looks at young bands on a daily basis. Author Joe Sparrow is deft and opinionated, and the combination makes for a blog filled with love letters to music and withering op eds.

One such op ed that got my attention was “The Trouble With Live Gigs,” which lamented the false promise that live is the only way to hear music. I responded at length in comments, and Joe was so ultimately cool as to collect my commentary into a massive guest editorial, which runs today.

Head over to read The Trouble With Live Gigs: A Response, by yours truly. And stay awhile to discover and download new music.

Bonus new music: Want the Philly local equivalent of New Band a Day? Philebrity just posted ten of their favorite tracks from Philly’s indie music scene, with photos, writeups, and streams for each band.