Crushing Krisis

Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand

selfy-stuff

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So, apparently my ass has become a meme . Who knew? It’s just like Ani with “People talk about my image like i come in two dimensions, like lipstick is a sign of my declining mind” … only, my perky ass is the sign of my declining musical relevance, or something. Meanwhile, have you heard about the tiny trouble Ani just had with the David Letterman show? Apparently she can talk about the girl police and her declining mind, but a mention of “white people are so scared of black people” is enough to get her plug pulled. Of course, i think we all wanted to hear “heartbreak even” anyhow. So… i think this battle ends in a tie. However, no matter what the final score, Amy and i have 4th row tickets to see Ani sing those songs and more this October. Rock.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/07/4833565/

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For a while i was wholly obsessed with maintaining my general anonymity on the internet. I was ambiguous about my sex, and my location, and i never ever used my real name for anything. That’s what the internet was for, after all, escaping me. However, i’m also wholly obsessed with revealing each minuscule detail of my life to everyone on the internet: i’m obsessed with blogging, and obsessed with being on my webcam, and totally obsessed with posting my songs. And, i realized today that my obsession with anonymity must be wholly over if i’m sitting in front of my computer for 24 straight hours posting stories about me, pictures of me, and recordings of my own voice. Somewhere along the line my online persona became less of something to hide behind and more of a distillation of what i’m actually all about. Yes, i do cringe or look mildly confused when other loggers read my name somewhere. However, now i find that i actually have friends – friends who i care about and laugh with and shed tears over and miss when they aren’t on. And, i don’t think i can honestly say i had many of those while i was still some nebulous genderless nameless entity. So, hi, this is Peter reporting back to you after a day spent totally not recovering from 25/24. I somehow competently moved the whole mess over to it’s own page, and i’ve almost worked out what the contents of the Best-Of disc will be, and i mailed all of my sponsors. However, my bills are late, my private life is unkempt, and i still need more sleep. Do i sound frazzled enough? Welcome back to normalcy :p

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/07/4825038/

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Gina makes me sound like such a hack… i play guitar with this sortof robotic precision where my notes stand out against the rhythm, and i sing with this warbling fake-vibrato, and compared to her effortless solos and her clear-as-a-bell voice it sounds like i’m playing with a steel claw and vibrator stuck up my ass. Or something. You’ll see soon.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/07/4786741/

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Some days i just feel as though i am slowly suffocating… tangled up in life and with each tiny attempt to get free i’m just getting more and more wrapped up. Tonight doing anything makes me vaguely sick with a kernel of potential violence … my broken guitar string urges me to thrash at the other five with my pick until they all relinquish their hold on the bridge. That was the start. Next came the absolutely desolation of my apartment… no food, nothing to do but use my computer and listen to music, the heat trickling into every pour to account for the sweat coming out. The only way i can describe this feel is trapped… i am all wound up with nowhere to go and this apartment is slowly suffocating me and the only thing i can think to do to keep my thoughts flowing and in order is write, because it’s the only thing that would make sense right now. Part of the problem is the mess… the apartment is a perpetual mess, because no matter how many times i try to clean it there aren’t enough places to put my things. Looking around just makes me feel more tangled, like every little spare piece of crap is exerting its own pull on me like all the tiny people and Gulliver. However, mostly two things are bothering me. The first is that i need a new g-string for my guitar, and my guitar strings are nowhere to be found. This is especially annoying because i was writing a new song that was rather intelligent sounding and i’d like to continue. The other is tonight… this empty messy apartment and me and all the thoughts i’ve got bottled up in my head. Empty, messy, and bottled up are all things i’d like to be different. But, anyway, i just had to type something to release some of all this pent up furious energy, and i apologize if it sounds like some awful teenage diary rant, but i just want tomorrow to get here. Now.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/07/4695222/

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I used to have psychic dreams pretty regularly, but eventually my ability to fly replaced the premonitions. They were small and unimportant visions anyway, and they always came to me in an obscure enough fashion that i was never really sure of what i knew until i saw it happening in real life. But, i can’t fly rather than walking to work, so ultimately knowing just what flying feels like is a curse more than a blessing.

And knowing that Jessica’s hair would be blue ahead of when she told me she thought non-platonic meant what platonic means was actually rather amusing, in a way that distracted me from the biting pain of another romantic blunder.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/07/4594878/