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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Well, after working here for nearly a month it would seem that i’ve been fit in to the social ladder quite nicely, with people i can idly pal around with but also with people who intend to nitpick on me every day. Of course, nitpicking me becomes incredibly pointless when i basically do anything i’m asked to do… case in point: today is casual day, and i wore jeans. Not ripped jeans, or frayed jeans, just a nice pair of dark blue jeans. One of the staff tried to chastise me, since jeans are apparently not the sort of “casual” that we’re looking for, and i replied “Next week i won’t wear them, but i wore these same jeans last week and no one said a word. Perhaps you need to establish a written dress code.” See, … i can’t always be sugary sweet, because i obviously feel as though i’m being fucked with when someone tries to put a strike against me for doing something they themselves have never commented on before. So, i had to get my little barb in about the dress code. But, anyhow, i’ll be happy not to wear jeans next week, but today they just have to deal.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/04/3186056/

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The moment you saw me your face lit up just like a christmas tree
But i didn't want to admit that that electric could be me
I have reasons piled up why this could never be
And the only one really in the way is 'me'

I got a little lost the moment you leaned in
Cause things don't stay simple with your world sent spinning
I can't just back out of this affection
But my lips somehow veered off in another direction
Cause kisses aren't contracts and hugs aren't handshakes
And you'd have me making promises i'm not allowed to break
But somehow we've got to a nonverbal agreement
On something we can't seem to cement
And I'm choosing the subtle saftey of the distance
From me to the top of the pedestal in this instance
It hardly even makes a difference

It was a goodbye i was looking forward to
As a soapbox for my feelings for you
Because I figured you could suffer a few more words
And either way you'd be headed down the road
with me empty handed, hollow hearted, my eyes watching you recede
But resolve melts quick on a city street
And that was just my theory of the easy way out
What are the chances of me opening my mouth
Against the chances of those Christmas lights all burning out
Or their plug pulled a minute too soon.
Some people leave them up past June.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/04/3185805/

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The oddest thing happened to me wednesday night. There was a knock on my door, and i immediately was ready to scream “Jesus, Matt, how the hell did you manage to lose your keys?” but when i looked out the peephole i saw something that was definitely more girl-shaped than Matt (Josh chimes in: Dude, I’m more girl-shaped than Matt.) Sorry, anyway… I opened the door and there was a girl there. I asked timidly “Am i being loud?”, and in response i was handed a wine cooler, and the girl doing the handing said “I just wanted to tell you that i love listening to you through my ceiling and i wanted to give you something, so here.” I sorta just stood there dumbfounded for a second, opening and closing my mouth, and then said “Wow… um… thank you.” We chatted for a very strange minute or two during which i found out she lives directly beneath me, and then she left. I put the bottle down on my stereo and started working on my new song again, but the bottle was staring me down. It felt weird sitting there.

Bottle in hand i went downstairs and rapped on her door, and she opened it with a sorta bemused look on her face and i said “I don’t really take liquor from strangers, but i’ll come down and play you some songs this weekend and drink it then.” We wound up talking for an hour, during which time i learned that i’m “famous.” My next door neighbor apparently turns off his teevee at night to listen to me play, her entire family knows who i am from her commenting on me while on the phone, and her boyfriend was totally ecstatic to hear me bleeding down through the walls one day when he woke up. “I’m sorta like a teevee character, huh?” “Well, I didn’t want you to think i wanted to hook up with you or anything, but i just had to come up and give you something or say something. So, both”


We sat on her floor with her door wide open for a while and figured out that the weird italian looking guy in spandex from her dorm was actually Joey, and she even knows Selina from working in the language department, and i wound up promising to communicate through notes slipped under her door, and that i’d show up with my guitar over the weekend.

And to think i thought she was going to complain about me being loud.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/04/3185795/

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heartbreak even -ani difranco

it’s a heartbreak even situation

nothing lost and nothing gained

so i’m 10 years old again

standing in the backyard waving at a train

i feel you make love to me slightly

every time you let a little laugh slip too soon

and the moment passes over us so lightly

it feels like sand blowing over a dune

you try not to let your emotions show

but it ain’t a balloon you can just let go

it’s an ice cream cone dripping in the sun

sticky hands

    sticky arms

        sticky situation

it’s a heartbreak even situation

one part powerful elation

one part pitiful and frail

and i’m trying to feel my way around

a book of promises written in braille

there is pressure from within this

and pressure from above

there is pressure on our tenuous, strenuous love

and there’s wet wool blankets one, two, three

laid onto my chest

’til i just can’t breathe

and i try not to let my emotions show

but it ain’t a balloon i can just let go

it’s an ice cream cone dripping in the sun

sticky hands

    sticky arms

        sticky situation

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/04/3164936/