Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand
by krisis
Parades are scary things to be a part of, especially in the cold. Especially on the day that comes after the biggest drinking night of the year. Especially when you wake up cold on the floor at 4:45am after having slept through awful snoring all night. Let me tell you, i’ll never look at a squirrell in the same way again…
by krisis
When i used to write songs they were my escape. I used to be able to say so much inside of them that never existed anywhere else. I was a rock star in my own head. I conducted my own interviews. I tracklisted my imaginary new album once every month. But, in the end it was just another hobby; none of my friends even really knew i was into it that seriously. I still pick it up every once and a while, when i hear a song from back then. All the lyrics are still on the internet somewhere, and the sounds too, at some forgotten webpage i could find on my lunch break if i spent a minute or two looking. Yeah, i used to write songs. It was fun.
by krisis
Hell, i probably won’t even love myself anymore in four years. I’ll just be some sold-out corporate rat who wasted his life trying to please all the wrong people and never himself and who owns all the wrong, insignificant albums, because he tried too hard to choose what he liked. I’ll just be an empty wasted shell who never touches his guitar and starts stories with “When i used to write songs…”
by krisis
The huge, big, ultimate, $64,000 question is, will i still love Ani DiFranco in four years? Who knows… check back then and we’ll see.
by krisis
Wow, can you tell i want to be published weekly in a physical place where someone will pay attention to me?