Crushing Krisis

Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand

performance

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Hi; i rock. Not as much as Jason rocks, but i definitely got some rock on.

Nobody wanted to step up to the microphone first so i bit the bullet and took the stage only to be informed that, no, the tech crew didn’t have any way to plug my guitar into anything electrical. They had lots of microphones though; would i like some microphones?

The whole think stank of their horrible tech set-up from last year, which nearly turned me off to performing in front of people altogether. But, i persevered – twisting my body halfway around so that i could aim my guitar into one microphone and sing into another. It was hellish, i was uncomfortable, and i was too distracted to hit the high notes. I was not the happiest camper in the room.

After slinking off the stage i slipped the tech guys the following note: “PLEASE can i have a 1/4 inch connection for my set. Please? :( ”

It’s amazing what little sad-faces drawn in blue pen can get you when asking nicely and smiling has already failed.

After a few other performers Jason and I were up, and i’m sure our odd parade of a small jittery songwriter and a quietly charming cello player was met with some puzzled glances. I was personally too busy fawning over the quarter inch adapter that had been scared up for me and Jason’s attempts to make a coffee shop chair compatible with his special brand of cello-rock.

Up first was “Lost,” which we held down nicely despite a few guitar flubs on my part. Jason’s cello on “Lost” is awesome because it’s a riff totally separate from the song, and it’s always very surprising to me to hear how it blends. Our second song was prefaced with something near “Maybe i should tune and then play. Do you think? I thought it might be endearing of me to play a cover song, and so i chose something i’m sure you all really like and now i’m going to destroy it. It will involve screaming. Jason will continue to be lovely.”

And, thus, we launched into a nearly flawless version of “Say It Ain’t So” that involved very little screaming and much head-bobbing in the audience. Let me take this opportunity to remark – once again – that Jason is amazing and that i sortof just stared at him while he played the entire guitar solo over on the part of the stage that totally lacked a guitar.

Sensing an opening, i did a brief strip-tease and then dove into “Under My Skin,” which was met with happy faces by all sorts of crowd-members who very generously made sure that i didn’t sing the same verse more than once. Afterwards we took a very competent stab at Ani’s “Gravel” until i decided to lyrically revise the second verse approximately two chords before the start of said verse. But, we definitely rocked the house down (and Jason mocked me a ton behind my back while i was being silly towards the audience, including a comment regarding angry lesbians just previous to Gravel).

But, anyway, i was a little mini-rock-star for a quarter of an hour and even though i flubbed a bunch i was actually good on the whole – which is a new feeling for me and my guitar. Maybe i need to bring more people up on stage with me next time…

https://crushingkrisis.com/2002/04/85036968/

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There is a mutiny building in my fingers; a resistance is gathering between my knuckles and around my wrists. They are not used to this sort of treatment… five hours of playing songs that i don’t have the option to fudge … songs that sound only how they sound. Towards the end my fingers were on automatic, picking out strings without my even having to think of it, but in the middle they were clumsy and tired as the muscles in my arms sighed with exertion.


There was a power to it — to making other people’s songs sound how they were meant, and to making my own songs sound out like i hear them in my own head. Kat sat on the bed mostly non-plussed, pecking away at her laptop, but Laurel seemed to be in a mild form of shock. And i… i wasn’t even in the room. The songs had filled it beyond its capacity to hold me.

Fingers aside, my voice amazed me. After having barely mustered up enough of it to power through my jury last week, imagine my surprise as it rose to the top of the staff and i was still hitting clean notes, open throated and howling. Sometimes a song finds one spectacular note inside of itself that my voice is attracted to like a moth to flame, willing to burn itself around the edges just to hit that one note and hold hold hold hold it over the four chords in the progression.

There is definitely a Trio brewing around here, somewhere.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2002/03/75024430/

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Somehow today rendered my entire life empty, and i cannot explain the process of it at all.


It all started with an argument about how i really don’t like theatre despite the fact that i’m regularly involved in it, and how if it was worth something to me i would take it seriously but in reality it is just a placeholder for my being able to have people watch me based upon my own creative work and not some mere interpretation. Somehow (although in retrospect it isn’t such a leap) the conversation ballooned out into being about how i don’t like anything inside my life at all. Well, that’s what i said, even if i didn’t quite mean it. Of course, that’s a misrepresentation and i corrected it immediately: i love creation. I love to write and to compose and to sing. You’d think acting falls under that umbrella but it doesn’t… it’s just a shadow … a directed interpretation of someone elses work.


Sometimes i say that i hate everything about my life and it feels like i’m just trying to be dramatic to get attention; i know too many of those people. But, really, there are days that my life is really just a shell and all that’s inside are some tiny songs that no one ever really hears and me plugging away at my classwork trying to make a dent. A difference. Whenever i get to this place it comes down to… what is the point? And, i can tell you right now that i don’t believe there is one. Is there any point to existence as we know it? Each of us is the product of the almost-hubris of our parents … so sure of their love or lust that they created a physical product of it. And we, as that product, are trapped here and all we can do is try to keep ourselves happy, or to better the environment for anyone else who might get stuck here without much choice in the matter.


It sounds like a defeatist view, but it isn’t. I have goals, and things i enjoy doing, but when it comes right down to it there is positively no reason for me to exist – except for the effects that i have on other people’s lives. I am not the biggest fan of It’s a Wonderful Life (or, Scrooged, for the more skeptical set) and i am not so full of myself to think the world would be inherently different without me, but i recognize that i have left marks on the people that i have passed by and that i’m here for them as much as they’re here for me. So, it’s not like i’m perched on the edge of a roof … this isn’t a suicidal kind of raging depression, just a contemplative one.

Sometimes when i am in this place the only way out of it is to evaluate … what is it that i have and love and why? Tonight i am a reductionist… i have my narrative voice, and i have a handful of friends who i can honestly talk to without ever watching what i say. And, so, i told Jeff honestly that the only thing i ever enjoy is writing… how i can write 3500 words about something i love and not even notice and then reread it endlessly. The same with writing songs. Jeff is a communications major a year ahead of me, and he has already found what he wants to do with his life and he’s doing it. I think he was trying to tell me that i can’t ever get there while i’m busy torching the bridges i’ve crossed and the one’s i am on.

Jeff ultimately understands my point, but he won’t concede it: I have goals and places to be, but i am 20 and life is already over even if i get to do everything i’ve ever hoped and dreamed for. The world is the container of a finite amount of possibilities both big and small, and i don’t think any chain of events will ever make me truly happy even if you substitute in all of the right jobs and friends and lovers where there are just empty spaces right now. The only true choice that i have is to do something that will make anyone else forget about how pointless their life might be… to make them forget about everything i’ve just said – because i know it’s here and no one seems to care whether i notice it or not. My goal shouldn’t(can’t) be to go back because there isn’t any such thing; i need to move forward. In a way, i am meant to be a distraction.

Not such a bad job, really.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/09/5943263/

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Of course, becoming someone is a two way street. When someone gets famous and says “some school rejected me and it changed my life” to some random interviewer, ten different thoughts shoot out in ten different directions depending on who the reader is. The most basic reaction is probably something akin to “wow, they got rejected by school. I’m shocked!”

What follows is the part that matters… is it more important that the school is that much more prestigious for turning down your favourite actor or singer, or is the school pathetic and shallow for not seeing their potential when it had been so obvious?

The thing with me was that nothing was obvious. I somehow had the idea that i could trump everyone else’s comparable scores with a slew of activities like acting and writing and volunteering, and while schools do claim to care a lot about all of that but they honestly don’t really seem to mind either way. Unless you’re submitting a portfolio, they like to hear about competing, and winning – not showcasing and performing … unless you were winning while doing that.

I was a special challenge because i was undecided about my academic major when i was applying to colleges, which was surely one of the biggest strikes against me. At Drexel, we invite undecided students to apply. We encourage it. We can help them work it out. But, some schools have no use for the indecisive, and would only take them if they’ve proved themself to be a potential nobel prize winner no matter what they major in. So, honestly, i would have had a shot at splitting my rejections in half if i had just arbitrarily picked English or Literature as my major. But, i didn’t. Oops.

The thing with me is, i’m inconsistent. I mean, i have 10 simultaneous projects up in the air at any given time, none of which are ever really getting finished or resolved. In high school, this translated into a hodge-podge of activities and B+’s instead of A’s. In retrospect, i don’t think i did anything before the age of 13 or 14 that had any definitive effect on my academic future. What it comes down to is that i need something to light a fire under me before i can be excited about anything, and back then the only things i had really were comic books and video games and reading books and nothing serious and enjoyable. As it is now I need PuppetMaster or 25/24 or taking the minutes at a big admissions meeting to light a fire under me. to keep me motivated.

However, now i have the weak excuse of passing these fires off as my continuing exploits in DIY journalism. If i didn’t have this to refer to as my way of honing my writing skills and narrative voice, what the hell would i be doing with my free time? I’m very jealous of you science types that can quantify what they’re learning and their goals so clearly. I just need to have an enthusiasm for something, and at the beginning of this Summer i said i’d ditch my guitar if i didn’t start playing this summer – for people in places other than my apartment – and i played a few times. But, it took up no effort on my part, so the guitar is getting tossed in the backseat. I have songs and voice and image but i have no drive or fire, and i don’t have anyone else to light one for me because hardly anyone else has heard these songs because i never play them because i obviously don’t have enough attention to pay to it unless i combine it with things on the internet. 25/24 was a rousing success for me even if i find the singing hideous and unlistenable; even if i somehow still haven’t finished the Best-Of CD because i keep pulling “bad” songs off of it and putting “good” songs on. But, i have failed my guitar and i feel like suddenly our little interlude has ended, and so now it is just another tool … a weapon if i hold it right.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/08/5119833/

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Ahh, just when i thought i was ready to pass out i put on “Gone” and it all got better. It’s so cool when you hear Gina & I smile while we’re singing. rabi claims to be able to exactly picture the looks on my face when she hears a recording of me, and while i’m skeptical i think it’s entirely possible… she saw me do “punk” and “under my skin” in person, and they’re surely my two most expressive songs. So, who knows. Honestly, i don’t even know what the hell face i’m making when i sing, but usually it doesn’t make me look any more attractive than i am when my mouth is firmly shut.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/07/4796754/