Crushing Krisis

Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand

my music

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Now i’m not so sure. The focus of my next demo keeps shifting as i add both old and new songs to its potential tracklisting, and it is now taking a slight turn away from the cut-away model of an imagined relationship that it once was. And, in that turn, “under my skin” is becomes less and less the obvious title track and more and more the catchy first single. Of course, those two intersect, but not by rule. All of those flailing tendrils taking root are what can shift this disc; it’s at least two months away from being recorded, which was the amount of time between “crashing” and “under my skin.” But, enough of that, go listen to a Trio.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2000/11/1403976/

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Sometimes i think it’d just be easier if i sat here and just communicated with myself and the people on the computer who i can’t ever touch. Of course, songs don’t come from sitting in a room with just yourself; you at least need issues to stew over. Not that i don’t have any issues… god knows i have issues. To be shockingly honest, i should definitely see a psychologist every once and a while. But i don’t … i couldn’t. The things that make me what i am are so buried that i barely can remember them all at once, let alone rattle them off in a chronological list. But that’s not what you do at the psychologist … of course, they aren’t the great Oracle either. They can’t answer any question you can’t answer yourself, just point you in the right direction.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2000/11/1348808/

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I get this feeling before i write a song… like i have all sorts of static electricity charged up and it’s be released as soon as my pen hits the paper. Words and phrases buzz in my head until finally the tip touches down and the flow begins. All charged up.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2000/11/1348690/

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I wish someone was taking video of my first kiss. It’s like i lose a little of the image quality every time i play it back in my memory, until finally i’m just imagining it. Instead of seeing her face draw close i just imagine us in a pose like any barbie and ken doll can achieve, substituting my idealized picture for what actually happened. Maybe it was awkward instead of artful, but that momentary pause that came with the awkwardness meant everything, and without it i don’t have anything left but the trace left from the words she whispered in my ear. They’re still ringing.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2000/11/1348639/