Crushing Krisis

Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand

Creative

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you said i needed to find some hobbies just because i’ve been carving our initials into everything with an exacto blade. those wretched letters look x-ed out better than i know how to, but we were never going to be forever and ever – so whatever. Cause things you said mean even less now that you’ve fessed up: breakdown. breakup.

i intend to wash the sheets again because i like to see my bed empty. And i’ve got two boxes full of your cds, clothes, and pantyhose that my roommate told me to throw out the window just like we had thrown them on the floor so long before. But, you told my best friend that i’d lost it over you because you’re a manipulator, and you can bitch all you want but i won’t see you later. Cause things you said mean even less now that i’ve cleaned up: breakdown. breakup….

breakout of this shit cause like a broken record i’m skipping over my making tracks and you know the motivation i lack is why i’m so stuck on you and i never should have fucked you just because i was bored out of my mind that’s what toys are for and playing around just got us lost and we found out how to extend our claws and dig deeper than The things we said that mean even less now that we brokeup. Breakdown. Breakup.

I’m supposed to be friendly to you as if it makes a world of difference; i’d rather flirt with your best friend across the room for all the bad mojo it’d bring. And with all this salt in our wounds we should be alcoholics, eating the worm at the bottom of the bottle for every time we speak too soon. But this is just my defense mechanism and my words must just be dumb just like optimism. But things you said mean even less now that i’m fed up: breakdown. breakup. brokedown. fed up. drowned out. fucked up. breakdown. breakup.

https://www.crushingkrisis.com/2001/05/3789771/

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In two weeks i’ve played outside for Spring Jam, in my supervisor’s office at work, for a room full of “dykes,” and in a tiny bar adjoining a good place to get wings. Each performance had its own little quirks, but tonight’s was definitely my favourite in many ways. Firstly, i had the crowd stacked in my favor with mucho peeps from the Player’s House. Secondly, i was really well rehearsed and not at all nervous. And, finally, all of my songs sounded good – even to me (which is a rare thing).


The set (a whopping hour long) follows, with minimal comments. A trio sneak-peek should be up sometime this weekend.
Other Plans (great opener, still love it),
Punk (crowds seem to pay attention to this; a shame it’s only 2 minutes long),
Deadweight (surprisingly coherent),
Ziggy Stardust (Bowie: random fun),
Relief (doesn’t seem to do much live),
Buildings and Bridges (Ani: by request!),
Under My Skin (wow, a crowd that didn’t know all the words…),
Bridge (“this is as close as i get to playing a solo”)
Dilate (Ani: huge and fun),
Give (hard to do live, but satisfying. thnx rabi.),
Crashing (broke a string; steve of The Conditions filled in while i got this ready),
Lost (quick and painless),
Like A Prayer (Madonna: not the best closer for a bar full of drunk men when you don’t know all the words, but all of the girls helped out by singing along).


My set was between a Drexel gal doing mostly covers and a massive two-hour (still going as i write) set by Justin (of dead susan fame) and Geoff. I think the owner invited me back for next week, but i’m sorta drunk on starvation so i don’t have a very clear memory of it. If i am playing next week, i need to learn some more cover songs. God help us all… g’nite.

https://www.crushingkrisis.com/2001/05/3684916/

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The sky is so very grey that i feel like it’s drowning out all the reds and oranges in my personality and just leaving me calm with layers of blue and purple with maybe just a peak of yellow underneath. Or, maybe i just didn’t get quite enough sleep last night and am looking for an excuse to be low-key. Life is moving by very quickly as of late and i’m just trying to put in an appearance in every day and hour so i can at least say i was in on it even though it will be a blur in my memory.

I seem to be performing in a bar on campus tonight for an hour but i couldn’t explain to you how that happened if you were to ask me so you probably shouldn’t. I’ll get a weekly invite if i do well with the patrons this week and next, so if you have id (that’s identification, not the thing that hides underneath the ego and the superego and makes you all primal and stuff) you should come (Buffalo Bill’s, 35th and Lancaster, $5 cover, i’m on near 11pm). Also, my beloved Treble Makers are singing at the Drexel a capella show Saturday @ 4pm in Mandell Theatre, and they’re much cooler than i am even after you allow for the fact that there’s 10 of them and just the 1 of me. But, enough advertisement.

If one thinks ahead (i know, it’s frightening) to me actually being asked to show up with my guitar on a weekly basis, one would realize i’ll eventually have to get up off my ass and learn some new cover songs to play. In the last 24 hours i happen to have learned three, but that’s mostly because i just got an Ani DiFranco guitar book in my teeny metal mailbox and so now i am in study to eventually have an entire set just of Ani DiFranco songs (as if anyone can really tell the difference). I’ll definitely be Trioing my new covers this weekend, so keep an ear out for them. Should be interesting.

In a tangent tangentially related to my slow but sure musical growth and exploration, Gina seems to be moving into the apartment directly above mine for the summer (after which point i’m probably moving out). The ramifications of having Gina and I stacked one on top of the other with all of our various guitars and cds and things are rather exciting (probably more like terrifying to our neighbors), and life should definitely get more interesting. Or maybe just louder. We shall see. But, speaking of vertical neighbors, my downstairs neighbor randomly showed up at my door last night while my mother was fussing over my newly installed air conditioner, and a strange and uneasy conversation ensued. I have never been one to have guests over, especially on zero notice, so my entire third of the conversation seemed to be geared at getting one or more of us to exit the apartment. It’s not that i’m unfriendly, i’m just not really used to people being in my space. But, downstairs neighbor is very sweet and she likes to listen to me through the ceiling, so i won’t begrudge her some time standing on my threshold talking about where to get good 2for1 deals on whole frozen chickens with my mother.

Wow, that post got much more literal as it went along.

Even the music i brought with me to work today is sorta greyish sounding, and it’s all new so it’s just flying past my ears as i try to absorb some little pieces of it. But, i think i come here to actually work, as odd as that might sound, so i’m off for now, into the grey. Wish me luck.

https://www.crushingkrisis.com/2001/05/3673273/

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The most shocking thing to me was that Rabi actually knew my songs from Trios, but i evened up the score because i knew the context of her poems from following her log. After a few requests, the set wound up as: Punk, Because, Unstrung, Colorblind, Under My Skin, Lost, All That’s True, Give, Never Say Goodbye. Trio has an interesting effect on how i make up a setlist when i’m playing for someone who actually listens to it … something i’ve never really had to deal with before. But, anyway, it was good excercise for me, and i think she really liked Never Say Goodbye cause she sorta just stared at my guitar while i played it. I could always ask her, but, erm, yeah. Maybe she’ll blog about it ;)

https://www.crushingkrisis.com/2001/05/3644067/

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Trying to recognize someone you’ve never met before is just a little tricky, but my guitar and mod-squad jacket were definitely a giveaway. She was a bit more obscure, but somewhere between the bright blue eyes and the bright purple kiddie band-aid on her finger i had it figured out.


I have to say that Rabi was a lot more effervescent than i pictured her (although, how many vegan astrophysicist rugby players do i really know to judge by?), and i can’t even begin to imagine what about me was suprising to her. Swarthmore would definitely turn me into the kind of metaphorical blogger that she’s become known as, because nothing i saw there translated literally the way things do in Philadelphia. We wound up getting right under the sun as if it was just a spotlight and trading poetry for songs (literally: she took home a demo and i took home my favourite of her poems), and finding things we had in common (bitten up fingers, music fetishes, and obviously obscure writing) and some differences (my fingers are just bit by my guitar and i can’t wear band-aids, my music fetish is slighty less rare and much less under control, and how taking the middle step out of word association makes it much more mysterious) . It felt just like talking to anyone, and i’m not sure if that’s because we know too much about each other’s thoughts and things or if it’s because we’re just two too friendly people. Except, this is all about my life and Wockjabby is all about her thoughts on life, so i think we almost swapped my thoughts for her life. Or something.


Three and a half hours later felt like a much longer time, though not long enough. I had more fun playing “Under My Skin” for her than i have for anyone since i recorded it. She read a poem she’d never read out loud before. Maybe i’ll see her again in the fall.

https://www.crushingkrisis.com/2001/05/3643985/