Crushing Krisis

Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand

songwriting

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So, we’ve established how pretty much everyone i know has heard “Under My Skin,” right? And, why not? It’s cute, it bops, it’s got some background vocals, and i’m singing it like i mean it (because i do). Tonight as i took a quick scroll through my lyrics folder i had to remind myself that there was life before “Under My Skin,” and that life included writing and singing and playing guitar just as much as this one does. There is one song more representative of that than any other, and that is “Touch.”


Life was on a smaller scale when it came to my guitar Senior Year… writing a good song sometimes meant that three or four people might hear it ringing out against the tile of the basement hallway, and “Touch” was my relative success. With it’s nonexistent nonsense lyrics that were practically ad-libbed every time and it’s chiming verses that spun out to the simplest of choruses, “Touch” was just about the utmost of what i could offer, and hardly anyone knew about it. Three years ago this week a mere handful of people had heard it, and two years ago the number had only improved by another couple handfuls. And, now, this once-stalwart of my collection is buried under dozens of songs that i like more with little hope of anyone ever really getting to appreciate it. My life is weird that way… hits rise and fall in my own mind. The chances of “Under My Skin” making a repeat appearance on my next demo recording are slim to none, which means a year or two from now even it’s listening public of over a hundred people will (hopefully) pale in comparison to what songs like “Excuse” or “Tangling” will know.

Radiohead mostly stopped playing “Creep” after everyone screamed for it at every show, and at last month’s Ani DiFranco concert the oldest song she played was from her fifth album. Point being, not even fame necessarily cures the case of lost songs because they are either “Under My Skin” or “Touch” — you’re sick of them, or have too many other songs crowding them out.

And, so, i am almost afraid to write down what i feel, because it will have a life so much shorter than mine despite my attempts to immortalize it. I sang “Touch” tonight because it had somehow slipped through the cracks of Trio for over a year despite its only being two years old last fall. I wonder if it’ll ever appear again…

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/11/7053722/

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My secrets are a set of Russian Dolls that i closely guard; the biggest of the dolls, the exterior one, is a secret in name only. She is a secret i willingly share. If you were to lift her away there is a slightly more secret doll underneath that less people have seen, and she is a more decorated secret that is only smaller through having been kept enclosed for so long; she has shrunk down onto herself, almost distilled down. Lifting her away reveals yet another treasured secret, and so on and so forth. Some of those larger dolls are ones that i just idly pass by to get to the smaller ones, and no one has ever learned to recognize them along the way. Some of the smaller ones i don’t even know the look of anymore — just where they fit into the puzzle. And then, somewhere in the middle of the entire mess, there is one secret so distilled unto itself that it is like a single drop of the purest alcohol in the world: enough to knock me off of my feet.


I let Lindsay have one of those inbetween Dolls last night… one that wasn’t so small but that i had totally forgotten the look of. She smiled a tiny smile as i handed it to her, and spread her fingers over the polished secret surface while i sang the song i had written for it, and when i was done she handed it back to me and asked why i kept such a pretty one hidden away, and i think i said that “i don’t even remember what it feels like anymore; i like that i’ve forgotten. i couldn’t feel this every time i play that song… it’s not the most hidden away, but i usually just skip past it and head towards the smaller ones.”


It is put away now, but i remember it’s shiny features and its beaded eyes and the ribbons in its hair… all things i had forgotten. And it’s song is still ringing in my ears, but i’m afraid if i play it again i might shatter everything entirely.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/11/7016140/

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Lindsay and I sat on the couch last night and revealed things to each other. Lindsay was sick and convinced that the cure was sitting down for long periods of time and having some wine (she’s almost Italian, i know), and i was feeling about to be sick and was convinced that the preemptive cure was lots of vanilla ice-cream and lounging in sexy-but-comfortable clothes. I don’t think either of us was correct in our convictions, because this morning we both appear to be sick, but somewhere along the way we both decided that the television was rotting our brains, and so we shared.


Lindsay is a Digital Media major and total artistic genius. She sings, she draws, she designs, she photographs, she writes, she composes. She brought out three different versions of her creativity in physical form for me to see… an allegory, a play, and a picture-book. And, after having sat there watching her share things to me that she treasured so carefully none were crinkled or smudged, the only thing i could think to give back were songs.


I have songs that have never been crinkled or smudged… songs that i have left alone for so long that i stumble over the words and chords. So, i brought down my poetry book and gave Lindsay three songs, two of which i don’t ever really give… one of which no one has ever really heard before in real life (it was Trio-ed, once). And, i told her the story; my songs are pretty 3-minute tonal pictures without a smudge on them, but saying what it stood for turning some silly little song into something more important than i ever could have intended. Who knew that some silly emotion i felt Senior year of highschool could almost bring me to tears three years later? And who knew that such intentionally silly little words would come off so meaningful when prefaced by an explanation that had never seen the light of day before?

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/11/7015994/

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Somewhere in my Communications Theory book it says something to the effect of art introduces a new or original way of looking at life. Right.


I have been having some fussy bitchy unjustified issues with Laurel lately. Don’t ask me why, because there is no why; any issue i ever have with Laurel exists entirely inside of my own head. But, anyway, the first day she got back i just got this vibe from her that Laurel Had Returned and that i had gotten shuffled way down to the bottom of the deck from where i had been before she left. And, why not? Laurel is the pretty one, the talented one, the intelligent one, the castable one. Of course, i never saw it that way at first; all i knew was that i had a dream where we kissed and that it didn’t seem like such an awful idea.

Two years later, the situation is more tangled in my head, and who knows what the situation is like in hers. Tonight when we started talking in our production class all the petty resentment i was starting to build quickly faded out because face to face there was nothing… only things i had created and surmised.

Before tonight’s round of auditions Laurel gave me a ride to my house, and while we were there i played her some songs … two she already knew and three i wrote while she was away. Sometimes i question whether or not anything i do is vaguely artistic by anyone’s definition let alone by the one i mentioned at the top of the post, and today while i was playing songs for Laurel i was playing all my usual games … glancing up and away, shutting my eyes, carefully watching my picking even though i surely know the patterns tried and true. When i inevitably got to “Under My Skin,” Laurel sang along just like she did on the demo recording, and looking at her she was really meaning something when she was singing the words… not just intonations and syllables, but something beyond. I’m not sure if she’s even applying the lyrics to the same time and place that i wrote them about, but suddenly they have life and meaning for her, and according to my communications book that’s one tangible step closer to art.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/10/6070887/

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The first day of fall on a college campus is always a memorable experience… yesterday was that in two respects: the first day of Fall while on campus, and the first day of Fall term. Freshmen were everywhere, lines for food and books were long, and i spotted nearly a hundred people i haven’t seen in months (and lamented easily another hundred that i didn’t see). I ran into Gina with former roommate Michelle and walked them to the bookstore where i had a sighting of Laurel and Ben before i was distracted by Kathe who was eventually joined by Selina, but then i had class with Karen and afterwards ran into Matt A. before headed back to class, this time with Gina. And, that was only in the span of an hour.

Sometimes you anticipate your relationships to all of these people changing, and sometimes you expect them to stay the same. Or, at least, i do. I’ve been finding out that sometimes i’m right and sometimes i’m not – sometimes in cases i didn’t really expect. Who knew that one biting comment from one of my favourite friends would leave me seething and writing a nasty song about them on the first day of having them back in my life? Who knew that someone i generally despise would put a broad smile on my face while i was walking around aimlessly? Who knew that people would change so much, or stay so much the same?

I haven’t really thought about my ‘blogging schedule’ … last year i took alternate weekdays off. Today i am headed to International Business Law, Critical Reasoning, Basic Production, and Communication Theory. We’ll see how i feel about blogging after all of that.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/09/5903942/