Crushing Krisis

Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand

Personal

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We are producing two student written plays that are very witty and funny and i got cast as the male lover in both of them against the same female lover. I didn’t really think about the reality of kissing someone night after night on stage when i was auditioning, but now it looks like i am adding one more person to my impeccably neat little list of lips i have locked with, and my irrational fear of herpes alarm bell is ringing like mad. And, chat logs are lame.

Peter: I’m feeling much more apple-pie than normal

Rabi: is it fun?

Peter: No, not really. Well, the kissing thing is very shocking, but of all the people i could be kissing it’s absolutely the person i’m most ambivalent about kissing … which is good, because – no trouble. But, which is bad, because i am a romantic and meeting a girl in a love scene (or a making out repeatedly scene, as the case may be) in a play works out in my head

Rabi: the thing about those romantic fantasyish scenarios is that they have such a slight chance of ever being as good as they could be in a story or a song or whatever

Peter: Well, one of the other people i could be kissing met her boyfriend freshmen year doing the play. So, i didn’t want to kiss her either, cause it would be weird. I really wanted the almost-kiss girl to audition, because we would definitely get cast against each other.

Peter: And, of course, in my head my current partner quits the play in a huff and her replacement is some perfect girl and we fall for each other madly, but that’s just how things work in my head. They have a certain sort of gravitational symmetry

Rabi: kismet ?

Peter: Yes, but Kismet in Peter’s-Head Romantic Gravitational Units (phRGU) instead of Real-World Romantic Gravitational Units (rwRGU)

Rabi: I totally read that as fargo

Rabi: phrgu that is

Rabi: in some ways though isn’t it better to imagine it than have it actually happen? or something?

Peter: Um….

Peter: I think that’s been too much of my life so far. I mean, you read my page, right?

That sums it all up pretty well, i think. And remember, equations involving Crushing Krisis always need to be equated into phRGU. Or, fargos, for short.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/07/4494829/

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mocha chocolata ya ya…

Oh, erm, i’m sorry, was that me singing? I somehow (don’t ask) wound up purchasing the Moulin Rouge soundtrack today on my lunchbreak, arguably to hear Nicole Kidman’s singing since she’s one of my all-around favourite movie stars and since both her and Ewan McGregor reportedly got signed to record contracts after promos of the soundtrack started floating around. David Bowie is also all over this disc with a new song, Beck covering “Diamond Dogs,” and a verse of “Heroes” inexplicably getting plugged into “Elephant Love Medly.” The first is incredibly scrumptious with Bowie literally crooning over a lush orchestral arrangement that accompanies the majority of the songs on the disc. However, Beck’s “Diamond Dogs” is an atrocity that only his general aura of coolness can make up for.

But, anyhow, i keep coming back to “Lady Marmalade,” not because i’m a pop music whore, but because it’s girl power. Four of today’s youngest and most recognizable voices in pop music on one great song that deserved a remake just so that people would know the name of the song that they’re quoting when they say “voulez vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?” It’s like Whitney Houston’s solid-gold remake of “I’m Every Woman” times four and with Christina Aguliera actually slutted up appropriately for the content of the song. And, hello, where the fuck did Pink get that voice? I’m honestly thinking about buying a Pink album (i mean, she is from Philly… of course, i haven’t laid down cash for the first Eve disc yet, and i love that). But, anyhow, aside from the overpowering midi-bass/guitar sampler backing up the song it’s really excellent (listen to the way those drums snap!) and i’m sure i’ll have Christina’s vocal part down to a science in a week or two. And, listening to Lil’ Kim sing here and there is really funny.


So, i’m sitting here wrapped in a towel listening to something from Billboard’s top40 and playing Snood and contemplating how i just got cast in two plays that involve me making out on stage. A lot. Didn’t i mention that earlier? Oh well, now you have to wait until rehearsal’s over. -xoxox

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/07/4491745/

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Today i got to leave work an hour and a half early because i went in super-early on Monday and worked all day, which got me back into the apartment at 4pm. As per daily routine, i put my keys down on the stereo, hung up my shirt in the bedroom, washed my hands and face, and went back to the bedroom to get changed. During this bit it somehow occurred to me that i should be singing “Happiness is a Warm Gun” at the tops of my lungs, and i was down to my underwear before i noticed movement behind me so i turned to find Matt attempting to sleep on the top bunk. He snarled a little and i apologized, but, honestly, was i really supposed to look around the room at 4:05 in the afternoon to check if anyone was still in bed? Seems a little ridiculous to me. But, anyway, because i’m actually quite nice i closed the door and left him be, but now i’ve only got underwear on. Oops.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/07/4489411/

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It’s funny talking about Love, because it’s a relative concept; i can’t have a pint or a mile of love and you can’t necessarily have more love than i do. I think that i will never say i’ve been in love unless i’m referring to love that i’m in, because 20/20 hindsight is to sharp and defined when love isn’t anything like that. Love seems like it’s warm and soft around the edges, so that you need to be half blind to appreciate it and so you can never really hang on unless you’ve got the perfect kind of grip. Liz asked me tonight if i’d ever been in love with a girl and i said no without even thinking about it. I’ll figure out how to get it in the right focus eventually, though. At least, i hope.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/07/4477175/

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and i’m just sitting here. i’m not much of a prayer, but i’m working on it; after all, she hasn’t even heard about the song i unintentionally wrote about her. whether it be for my selfish singersongwriter heart or the more direct version of the issue, please care.

This tiny trouble finally got the best of you
and made a nest in your heart and a lump in your throat
all that you possess will never mean as much to you
as that one small chance you missed
nagging at your heels just like a dog
trying to chew up the cover over what went wrong
because all of your excuses will expire eventually
tiny creeping wrinkles tucked into the corners of your eyes
a simple smile does not comprise a suitable disguise
a flick of the wrist a wrinkle of your nose
won't fix this although we all watch Bewitched sometimes
but no magic act can change the fact
that you got hung up on oh so fast
the phone in the cradle as fast as your able to put it down on the table
set the alarm for 5am just so you can get up with the sun
as if the brightness can drown out the din of all the worries in your head
you take the keys off the hook so careful there's no sound
and get in the car and drive around until you pass the playground
but it's too early for children to be appreciated
so you sit on a swing and you contemplate the situation
cause mourning doesn't hold all the answers
and you shudder as you feel the kick of that missed chance
and you use your feet to drag to a stop
but what will you tell them
what will they say
you shove your hands into your pockets
and your so afraid
it feels like days have gone by and you're still there waiting
just inhaling and exhaling that air that contains you
but your so afraid to dilate
to open up
back in your room at 6am
not a moment too soon for you
you close the door so nobody can see you
and pull that letter out of the drawer
to you it reads "don't bother trying anymore"
but you rip it to shreds
and go back to bed

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/07/4476785/