Crushing Krisis

Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand

day in the life

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Yesterday was a day of everything in pieces. In Literature we watched a fuzzy academic film about the art of the Mexican Revolution, and it was as if all of the bright murals on the screen traded places with my campus so that their shaded in people were all round and real while mine were strangely flat. Everything in my world was little mosaic bits of mural… like looking close enough to notice that the shading of a cheek is really just a couple of dashes of black paint. Eventually i wound up giggly and in charge at the office because we were doing territory management via email and i was the only person who knew how to make an href so we could have spiffy links (i think they just thought that it happened by magic). Then there was some inbetween time… a quick $20 shopping binge with Gina at K-Mart so we could have costumes for the party. And then the party. But, the less said about that the better.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/10/6666102/

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Today was about to be flushed down the toilet… i had my fingers resting on the shiny metal handle and i really wanted to just wash my hands of it. Nap. Play guitar. Anything to pass the time and get it down the drain already. And then, out of nowhere, a nosey little voice chimed in that i can’t claim to be liking life if i want days to just end, so i was forced to get up off my ass and into some clothing.

Would you believe i’ve avoided picking up my dry-cleaning for a week because i missed the pickup day and was afraid of being reprimanded by the dry cleaner? Seriously. I have to walk by it every day to get on and off my block, but i was too afraid of what excuse i’d need for not having picked up my favourite slacks and dress shirt. It’s funny which sorts of social interactions can really stop me in my tracks. Anyhow, once i managed to get in and out of there (without any commentary on my lateness and neglect) i cleaned my room, did laundry, and paid bills. So, yeah, maybe it stinks, but at least i’m not wasting it.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/10/6616649/

Trio: Season 2, #3

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My tiny square of a back window is thrust wholly open, and my room has settled into an easy calm of breathe-in breathe-out. My room really does breathe… the drop ceiling slightly expands and contracts with the tidal pull of air in and out of my window.

The roomies are going to the Halloween party this Friday as mythical things, and when i said i might be some sort of woodland faerie L said “Peter, you either can complain about what people say about you, or you can be a fairy for the party. Your choice.” It was funny for a moment and then, well, whatever. Initially we were all going as Greek gods as a injoke about none of us being involved with the production of Lysistrata, but that devolved into anything vaguely fey and now we’ve got an Artemis, a winged nymph, and me. Seeing as the rest of the week shapes up as a hodgepodge of class, work, and concerts i’m not entire sure where i was planning to construct a (manly) costume. Apparently whenever i pick up my guitar from South Street and actually rescue my dry cleaning from across the street. And do laundry. Ha.


I was hoping to do a Trio tonight but first i fell into the deadly Tori-induced clutches of a nap and then i wore my voice out screaming at Monday Night Football (… I’m still undecided on what i liked better… the touchdown pass where the receiver’s knee gouged a giant rut in the endzone dirt and yet the Giants still claimed he was out of bounds or the way the ball slid out from the quarterback’s hands and into those of the Eagles in the last two minutes to ensure the win. But, i digress…). So, despite a lack of official music from me this week, feel free to listen to the practice take from Sunday night. We all know that i do one Madonna cover per Demo cd, so having finally arranged that one it’s suddenly a big contender. As for the last song… just pretend i know what all the chords are and it suddenly becomes much more coherent. I personally find the whole affair to be a painful listen, which is why i’m not posting it as a trio, but you might actually enjoy some of the unrehearsed and unselfconscious bits and pieces of it.


I suppose that’s all i have to say. For a while there i was just aimlessly lying on my bed avoiding my philosophy homework, but when the room started breathing heavy and i thought i should tell you about it. Goodnight.

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Whether or not you could tell from that last post, i was functioning at about three fifths of my typical brain capacity today. All day. It entailed not being able to see friends of mine from three feet away when Gina was already talking to them, and dropping my chai latté all over the punk cds at Noise Pollution, and knocking toys off the rack at Showcase comics, and hitting on our waiter something awful in China town just because i wanted to know the secret of his haircut. Well… that’s not the best representation of my day, but just trust me: it was nice to trade in intelligence for some happiness. Try that one on for size.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/10/6180712/

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My mother can be very amusing when not taken in large amounts, but if you introduce any sort of negative energy in between us it just bounces back and forth and eventually we’re just like an amplifier overloading with feedback and blowing out. But, the inbetween bits are more side-splitting than ear-spitting.

Specifically, there was the two of us sitting on the floor in front of our stereo singing the harmony to “Band on the Run” (even though she’s been a snob about Wings for as long as i can remember) (and, also, us doing the flip-out vocals to “Oh, Darling” later in the car because, yes, we are Paul McCartney addicts), my showing her how to operate the self-checkout lane in Superfresh (and saying “Okay, rolls, *dramatic pause* this is where it gets a little complicated”), watching her trying to coax my cat out from under my bed because he forgets who i am (“It’s Peter, the one who used to squeeze you and chase you and torment you a lot. You remember him, don’t you?” “We’re trying to get him to come out, mom.”), her shocked (and amusing) exclamation of “And exactly how am i supposed to make breaded eggplant parmigiana without eggs?” when i asked if we could have Rabi over to eat something credibly Italian, and especially this introductory exchange:

Peter – [incredulously] When did you get so… blonde?

Mom – [blithely] And your hair is so dark! And curly! Did you dye it?

Peter – [sweetly] Nice to see that you’ve managed to forget what i look like while you were down the shore for two months. Did you at least bring me back some salt water taffy?

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/08/5287048/