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.

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You know, there is a children’s game here. It is called “the enchanted.” Anytone who touches you enchants you. You must remain frozen until someone else comes to touch you. Then you can move again. Who can say how long it will be before someone else enchants you once more? It is a dangerous word. You are bedazzled. But you do not own yourself anymore. You belong to someone else who can be good or bad to you, who knows? … Some things are both yours and not yours; they are painfully yours because they are not yours. You understand? – Carlos Fuentes, The Old Gringo

Fuentes is translated by a woman, and they have woven an endless tangle of fathers and sons and sunbaked skin and sex upon sex. Fuentes and the woman translator brought us these sweaty tangles of blood and pulse and life and everything just through the thrust parry thrust of sex itself … sex as exposition, sex as decision, sex as power. Whoever of the two of them quite made the book into what it is… i cannot pull my head out of the tangle of shifting narratives and parenthetical thoughts and mirrors and yet another labyrinth of life mirrored across itself to create a twin garden of forking paths that is turning turning turning within itself like a season.

Sorry, i was writing blogs in class again…

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/11/6838566/

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Six AM is when i finally slid my downward spiral to sleep in my bedroom that had so suddenly been transformed into a desolate + sultry desert by page upon page of streaming consciousness that flowed in a way that felt like, yes, this is still a novel in Spanish and we are just reading it through American eyes.

I cannot dream in Spanish, and so i slept and sunk into a language of sleepy heavy-lidded eyes and it ended again with my flying… this time as if drunk and veering into buildings and slowly being lifted up into consciousness, and do you get the idea that my dreams are like the absolute ground floor of the machinations of my imagination and that in flying i am hiding in between the lines of sleep and awake. flying under the radar of waking thought but escaping the controlling arm of my dreamstate.

Dream is our personal myth … your soul is no different from your dreams. Both are instantaneous.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/11/6819495/

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According to some sort of spiffy Perl-script that Benjy whipped up while cutting class, i’ve made over two thousand posts to this page for a total of significantly over two hundred and fifty thousand words.

So, if you’ll excuse me, i’m busy being boring as fuck and i need to write a sestina. ReRead YearOne :)

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/11/6806379/

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I’m typically a two meals a day kind of guy, at best. It’s really more like one meal and a package of pop tarts. I haven’t gone an entire week of eating what amounts to breakfast, lunch, and dinner since before the beginning of highschool. Even when i was in Boston where i was sure to eat breakfast and dinner (typically the hardest meals to get me to sit still for) i still managed to skip out on lunch each day. Sometimes i come upon unusual days of low energy and high appetite, but they are few and far between. Until last week.

Within the last week i have slowly but surely been sneaking ever-so-close to three meals a day; not the most solid three meals in the world, or the most healthy, but three distinct servings at three separate times of day. In theory i’m all for this; i have no problem spending money on food if i’m actually going to consume and enjoy it. However, there is one slight problem in this situation…

I’m pudgy. There, i said it. At first it seemed like a subtle kind of thing, and i thought that maybe that i’ve had a few beers in the past month, but all of a sudden i have this tummy and it sticks out past my waistline and magically i’m twice as hungry as i ever am. I get just as much exercise (more than last year) as usual, and it’s not as if i’m getting any taller, and my meals vary from cereal to chicken to giant salads (no pizza, no hoagies), so unless this is my body’s way of preparing for some freakin’ seasonal hibernation, i’m not a happy camper.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/10/6764951/

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After spending so long implicitly pushing so many different people away in so many different ways, it’s strange to slowly get back to having anyone i’d consider a “best friend,” but somehow it’s happening with the most unlikely of people. You only get the chance to be someone’s best friend if you see them enough to get past all the petty catching-up-with-each-other bullshit enough times so that whenever you go back to that it actually means something, and that’s a phenomenon i unusually only experience with Gina.

God, could i be any less literate today? Excuse me while i go take an hour long essay test…

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/10/6758738/