Crushing Krisis

Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand

events

Goodnight, Personal Moon

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After a sleepy first hour or two last night’s fundraiser was wildly successful, and kept me plenty busy with serving drinks, working the door, ordering pizza for the famished hostesses, and playing “name that sample” with Suz during New Age Crew’s set.

After some light cleanup I was deposited back in my home slightly after four in the morning, my hair a tangle of cigarette smoke. (Before Philadelphia’s smoking ban went into effect I would not go out to bars because I had so much hair, and it would suck up smoke like a sponge, leaving me in a nicotine cloud for the remainder of the evening.)

As a result, today I needed a bit of a recharge, which mostly consisted of sleeping through the majority of Fellowship of the Ring. I did, however, managed to catch up a bit on my blog reading, which only compounded the massive backlog of links I have queued since my last link-centric post way back in mid-October. As such, I have the following bounty of links to share.

Every post through Friday on Brenda’s Babes featured an illustrated vintage pinup girl from a classic magazine or advertisement, often accompanied by the history of the image and its illustrator. The blog was cultivated as an entry into a $20k blogging contest, and it won!

Aside from a brief-but-fascinating glimpse into screen-printing, No Commercial Potential produced The Octophant. It’s an image I’d pay major dollars to have on a t-shirt (it strikes me as very Arcati Crisis), but for now you have to settle for a print.

Zen Habits’ article on Fiscal Fitness compares effectively righting an unkempt budget with a sustained weight-loss program. I think it’s an apt analogy; it’s exactly how I got on-budget, and as of a month from now I’ll have stayed that way for four years.

I illustrated this sign on a note from my personal memo pad two years ago, and it has hung at my desk ever since.

An extremely well-written and poignant entry from Nancy at Naked on Rollerskates.

Tokyo-based design publication Ping Mag recently looked at the most eco (-nomic and -logically-friendly) packaging in the country. Fascinating to see, as well as to consider the impact of culture on the design process.

The simple-yet-effective logo for Portugal’s Presidency of the EU. I doubt anything so literal yet abstract could ever emerge from the U.S. government.

I missed the current-event boat regarding NY Girl of My Dreams, but it’s still a fascinating story of the intense power of the internet. Cribbed from Mark Larson.

Useful: 10 questions it’s illegal to ask in a job interview. Reflexively, it’s also information you shouldn’t give away. From Kottke.

Philly gets annoyingly hip with it’s new “One Book” choice: Dave Egger’s What Is the What. (Actually, maybe I’ll be able to stomach Eggers’ writing if it’s constrained to a concise fictional topic.)

I was fascinated by a Mental Floss entry on Dubai’s super-resorts. That’s a little out of my aforementioned budget, though.

Similarly, I’d love to have a personal moon, but I’m not sure that’s in the budget either.

For now I will settle for rockin’ ice stirrers and call it a night.

Up Jumped The Boogity Beat

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Lest you think my life is all work, wedding, and rock music, for the next seven hours I’ll be bartending and providing other general assistance at a fundraiser with live hip-hop music and DJs for IX ii V Records.

Never let it be said that I am not living an eclectic life.

More Than I Am; Less Like Me

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Around this time in last year’s NaBloPoMo Gina and I were just convening for our yearly holiday revue rehearsals, which wound up evolving into full-time Arcati Crisis.

Back then we would break off a set early if our mixing was bad or we biffed a harmony, and we didn’t like playing with other people because it threw off our very precarious musical balance.

Tonight we played three songs with a backing band in front of a modest crowd, rocking two of them quite adequately, and soldiering through a third one despite highly audible technical issues arising from our back line.

Our mixing was middling; no harmony was biffed.

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After our set we mingled with various artists up in the (awesome) balcony-level green room, and witnessed a stunning percussion jam lead by our dear friend Dante Bucci and including our new favorite tabla player on the entire planet, Natasha.

Whilst we were relaxing between sets we struck up a conversation with the other performers. I’m always a little fearful of these backstage relationships, because I find them impossible to maintain with tact and grace if I decide that the performer is not up to par (and I’m afraid they’ll have the same issue with me).

One woman in particular was very charming, and we spoke to her at length about our history, how long we’ve known each other and have been playing together, and how satisfying it is to finally be a real band playing music together.

When we asked her about herself she mostly demurred, saying that she had given up writing songs for a while but recently fell back into it. That just made me all the more anxious about the prospects of carrying on a conversation afterward she played, but I put it aside; we were talking to a such a perceptive and personable fellow musician, and I should enjoy that completely apart from her actual musicianship.

As it turns out, she was amazing. Her songs were campy in an intentional, hilarious, genuine way, and her piano playing and singing were both unassailable and sometimes remarkable. Later she complained about a flubbed chord, and Gina and I remarked truthfully that we wouldn’t have ever known had she not told us.

(I need to remember that the same usually holds true for us.)

Nancy Huebner. Keep your ear out.

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The moral of those dual stories is one and the same.

If you have something in your life that you’ve always wanted to do – something that you love (or think you would love doing) but never thought you would be good at – do it.

Stop asking questions. Don’t ask questions. Don’t doubt. Equip yourself with knowledge and enthusiasm, work at it until the work becomes effortless and fun, and then have fun doing it in the absence of the approval of anyone other than yourself.

Eventually it won’t matter if your harmony gets biffed or your chord gets flubbed every once and a while, because what you’re doing will be about a lot more than harmony and chords.

It’ll be about happiness.

Some like it hot. Me, not so much.

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It occurs to me that so far I’ve presented a sort of sterilized view of myself for NaBloPoMo, and I’ve decided that the only cure is to shock you out of your complacency by telling you something very personal.

After a day of soul-searching I think I’ve finally seized on the right detail; something deep and secret that Elise only knows by virtue of living with me for the past three years.

Here goes.

I don’t like hot food.

It’s not that I like to eat all food raw, although given my mostly vegetarian state I certainly wouldn’t mind being left with a diet of hummus and sushi, since that’s practically my desert island ideal.

I do like things braised, or blackened, or melted. I just don’t want to eat them while they’re hot. I don’t like the way flavors work in hot food. I don’t like how it feels on my tongue. And, I don’t tend to slowly savor it.

Just about any hot food you can name I prefer cold. Pizza, for sure. Back in my more omnivorous days, any sort of chicken. Pasta dishes, out of habit, especially lasagna or creams that won’t separate.

Chinese food, categorically. Fish, increasingly. Hot dogs, even.

The list goes on.

There are few specific exceptions to my rule. Drinks, for one, are categorically excepted. Frequently so are french fries (or, at least, they aren’t the same after they’re refrigerated). Anything with over 50% of its volume as eggs, which includes some quiches and mega-french toast are excused on the basis of texture. Food that is primarily liquid, like broth-based soup, is often an exception (though there are some hot soups I prefer cold). And, I find red meat especially distasteful cold, thought it’s pretty much always distasteful as far as I’ve ever been concerned, and I don’t plan on eating it ever again, so the point is moot.

Also, I admit that there’s a certain thrill to certain foods being warm. Warm breads and pastries, those are always a treat.

On the whole, though, I prefer 90% of the culinary world straight from the refrigerator.

There you go; deep, meaningful, previously secret aspects of my life out there for the whole world to read. Never mind that in the last post I snuck in a confession about my deep-seated fear of navy blue. Plus, I rambled in a sort of personal way during Trio.

Hmm, maybe this NaBloPoMo hasn’t been as superficial as I thought…