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Philly

September 9, 2001 by krisis

Yesterday was walking walking walking, starting out in my apartment skittering from floor to floor and then off to the office and around the campus and then with Gina delving far into center city where i somehow managed to spend under $20 on a shopping trip for once in my life and then back to university city to walk in circles upon circles that eventually left me sweating and smiling heading back up the stairs of my apartment.

It seems like Gina and i can have one endlessly strung out conversation that will last us from the beginning of whenever we see each other all the way until when she finally has to get back to her apartment to continue with her own life rather than with our all-too-briefly shared one, and yesterday was no exception. I don’t know how we wind up talking about sushi and the existence of an afterlife and cool brands of wah-pedals and bars on South Street that got busted for selling coke all at once with hardly a pause for breath, but we definitely do.

Two intrinsically linked things came out of our infinite conversation that keep echoing in my head, and those things are coping and karma. Gina and i have known each other for eight years now, and in the history of our friendship we can find many examples of events that in retrospect look totally different to us than they felt at the time. Both of us were entirely emotionally unhealthy heading into our last year of high school, though neither one of us would have admitted it to the other (or anyone else) (or ourselves) at the time. Gina had a great new boyfriend and was sure to be a lead in the play, my guitar playing skills had picked up and i was accepted into all of the AP classes i wanted … things all seemed good. Of course, looks deceive, and i was depressed about life and college and even though i was past being obsessed with my weight on a day to day basis i was entirely too thin and Gina was my best friend at the time but she had to deal with her own set of problems that i won’t even begin to enumerate here. And now we get to reflect on the situation and reveal what was going on inside at the time.

Mentioning such meager problems in my life makes me feel like a lightweight, especially considering that i came through it all not significantly worse for the wear. What keeps me wondering about the way the world operates is that at the time i would have told you that i was happy and doing well but looking back i can see through that to my life being relatively empty and hollow at the time. I don’t know how i kept from being miserable and sick and exhausted and defeated. Maybe i was all of that and i didn’t even realize it at the time (and still don’t).

This is where karma comes in. Bad things happen to good people all of the time, and visa versa. Whether or not karma exists as an actual repayment for your actions in life it is present in that your choices will alter you and your psyche for the rest of your life. Comparatively, my choices were easy and my hurdles were not high and i didn’t even think about balking at them at the time, and i think the fact that i didn’t flinch has left me as the relatively healthy person i am now – three years after the fact. What makes me really wonder about life, though, really wonder, is the people who were not ever allowed to make an easy choice and who have always been presented with hurdle after hurdle to leap. I know too many people in my life who have had to face too many challenges, and almost too many of them to believe have somehow walked through all of their fire and brimstone and still manage to smile every day; that isn’t to say that they don’t have problems and issues, but that they aren’t consumed by them all the time.

I am not an especially strong person, and my amassed karma must be equally tiny in relation to the world on the whole. I have never been extremely sick, i have two healthy parents who i have relatively open lines of communication with, i have never been financially in danger of losing my home or my possessions, and i have never been physically or emotionally threatened so much that i was unable to defend myself. But, i know people who have battled health problems for years, who have lost parents to feuds and time, who have lived on incomes stretched to the breaking point, and who have endured assaults on their physical and emotional well being on more than one occasion. What really scares me about life is that sometimes all of this is inflicted on one family… even one person, and that they are left to come through it or to fail somewhere in the middle. I know people who failed and are stuck endlessly in a feedback loop of emotional and physical trauma that they will inflict upon themselves if no one else will do it for them, but what amazes me about life is that for every one of those people i know more than one person who still believes fully in everything life has to offer them rather than inflict upon them after battling a similar set of circumstances. Everyone who has faced against a difficult set of circumstances has problems and regrets, but not every one of those people can wake up in the morning and go to sleep at night, and that power alone is something that stuns me.

What’s my point? Who knows… is there ever one, really? The point, i suppose, is that my tiny mound of shiny karma is but a pebble in the face of what some people have amassed, and that i just hope that they all get to redeem what life owes to them… and that i will get to see them enjoy every second of it; i’d gladly trade in my karma just for that.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/09/5573008/

Filed Under: betterment, high school, Philly, self-aware, Year 02 Tagged With: gina, walking

September 5, 2001 by krisis

Somewhere in my head i added up the price of my virtually shiny electronic airline ticket and the last month’s rent on my old apartment and the deposit on my new apartment and came up with an answer that equaled a whirlwind Labor Day shopping spree on South Street, and my wallet is still huddled down at the farthest corner of my pocket shivering and scared that i might try to pry yet another crisp $20 from it’s smooth leather grasp.

The entire list of purchases included (in meticulous receipt-confirmed order): Beth Orton’s Central Reservation, two hanging chandelier lamps from and one string of 15 chinese-latern style indoor lights, eight new lightbulbs, the new Ancient Melodies of the Future from Built to Spill, three pretty flowers for our living room, three heavy cardstock posters (Yellow Submarine, one for a Hair-style 60’s Be-In, and a funny spoof on drug culture), the sexiest pair of UnionBay cordouroy pants ever to touch my ass, poster-hanging gum, Fleetwood Mac’s Greatest Hits, Alicia Key’s Songs in A Minor, & Joni Mitchell’s Court and Spark. Yes, my characteristic $50+ on compact disc purchases is present in full force, but otherwise i actually managed to make some house-relevant purchases (a cam shot of me half-naked wearing the new pants sitting under my lantern lights will be forthcoming whenever i get my internet connection up)(and do situps for three months).

All i have left to buy is a dishrack, and then i think i’ll let my wallet go into hiding (oh, except for the umpteen new cds coming out this month and my impending trips out of the city. And, coincidence of all coincidences, my full-time job ends one day before my birthday. Damn me and my addictions to pop culture and sale-priced merchandise).

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/09/5502222/

Filed Under: Philly, shopping

August 11, 2001 by krisis

Last night’s start stop rain versus humidity gave way to gray an drizzle today, much to my delight. So much heat all week was just piling more wear and grief onto me and onto the city with every day, and today wiped everything back down to the simple scent of cement and a breeze. With the city so cool and forgiving Hillary entertained my ambitions to get out and wander. We were on second street looking for a restaurant to preface seeing Ghost World, and somehow we wound up in Pagoda.

Pagoda occupies a place in so many simultaneous sentences in my head that i can hardly discern what order i’m supposed to write them in, so please excuse the tangle.

Pagoda is nestled in a restaurant-and-Ritz-theatre district that is Old City, so there are a lot of cobbly streets and things with “independence” in their name. In front of it there is some kind of tiny square about Ben Franklin (though it is not the Ben Franklin House, which is nearby), and in it is a tiny metal model of a historic house on a tiny podium. I saw the house all of the time, because Pagoda has just recently become Pagoda… it’s claustrophic bamboo-strewn space has experienced several incarnations in my lifetime. The restaurant to occupy the building for the longest time was Waldo’s… the same upstairs balcony with a low-flying view out the two-story front face of the building but with a marbly bar extending the entire length of the restaurant from front to back with the swingy doors to the kitchen at the end and a pinball machine tucked into the back corner.

I would sit tiny in those high chairs at the bar with a can of pineapple juice over ice and a bowl of chunky round bar pretzels watching football, because i was nearly always there on a Sunday. The surroundings and everything have melted away now so much that i believe that i really didn’t know anything about the place other than the doors and the balcony and the chair and the top of the bar and the teevee. And my father behind the bar; but, he’s not something i know all that well.

Any story i could tell you about Waldo’s would just be an iteration of “and then the Eagles scored” or “and then we played pinball,” but looking back i think it was the only place i’ve ever been where i have been unequivocally happy; time has wiped away all of the pouty bored pieces of it so they are just smudged pictures around me at the bar trying to teach my dad how to play football on gameboy (“What do you mean there’s not penalties?”) or making my typical assertions (“If the Eagles lose the the Cowboys on my birthday i’m never watching a game here again, okay dad?”) or something. My last memory was from down at the end of the bar at one of those Superbowls that Denver lost, but by then we were me and my dad and his wife and i only remember it was strange being there at night on a Sunday because visitation always was over by 7pm on a Sunday so my life could get orderly again for school the next day.

Splitting time between parents was a funny thing, because weekends with my father never got very much accomplished except for stealing me away from what i was used to, and we never went anywhere because i always was back at home by sundown on a Sunday with a kiss goodbye from his rough stubble. But, i did it nonetheless, from when he lived in a tiny apartment with fish and one of the other bartenders to the wife’s adorable splitlevel house in Andora to their home in BlueBell that is anything but that to me. And, now i don’t even really call him for father’s day, because i don’t have a strong enough association with the world, but i think of him whenever i hear doo-wop on the radio because of his silly high voice that i cannot really match, or when i am distractedly ignoring the Eagles lose. Or when i see where Waldo’s used to be.

So, Hillary entertained my buried sense-associations and we ate at Pagoda and i choked back some tears. It was raining, anyhow.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/08/5038252/

Filed Under: family, food, memories, Philly Tagged With: rain

July 17, 2001 by krisis

Unattended business: Lane just gave me another reason to dislike high profile gun-supporting Republicans. It’s not just people that guns kill, you know. Meanwhile, i figure i owe another link to Dane, since i’ve been as-of-yet too lazy to add him to my favourites list. Sooner or later, Dane. Also, Tom added me as a fixture on his sidebar, and in return i used his photo for Uprush’s Netscape-hating Splash page. Tom, you paid me a bigger complement than you might think. While we’re in the complement department, Martha became a sponsor of 25/24, which i still need to record a dozen and a half songs for. Gee, 10 days left… no pressure or anything.

PuppetMaster has lately involved a lot of hitting on Ashley by both Bertie and i … Bertie, you were already Selina’s favourite sBlogger, so we know that when it comes to Ernie‘s webgames the girls like you better than they like me. Thus, i think competing with you for a possibly make-believe barely-legal vegetarian from Vancouver is hardly a fair fight. Also, i got a referral from here, but i don’t know how and i don’t advise you to click through; i can hardly even being to speculate how i got entangled with the Denmark anal lolita scene. I feel all dirty just talking about it.

Finally, now that my beloved and sarcastic co-communication fiend Amy has promised to blog with some regularity, i’m contemplating getting a Philly webloggers ring together – not just bloggers, but webloggers. Phloggers? Dunno… if you’re from the Philly area or go to school here drop me a note about your interest. Just think!, we could have a bi-monthly pub-crawl just like meg, tom, and the rest of the UK crew. And, i’m personally hoping to have CKfieldtrip ’02 be to South by Southwest – which reminds me: field-trip #1 is this Sunday. More excitement about that when i allow myself to contemplate it being only five short days away; if i start thinking about it now all you’ll hear out of me for the remainder of the week is incoherent babbling and squeaks of boundless joy.


Not that that’s entirely different from the current content, i suppose.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/07/4588171/

Filed Under: linkylove, Philly Tagged With: Madonna

June 17, 2001 by krisis

South Philadelphia is a place everyone should have to experience on a post-rain sunday at thirty seconds to noon. Coming up the orange steps from the subway all i could hear was a cacophony of bing-bongs as all of the churches on all of the corners rang out their different tell-tale noon-rings at once, and i twisted them round and round in my head pulling forward sets to duet in perfect harmony and listening in one ear to others sounding like dueling blacksmiths.


After the perpetual rain all day yesterday the humidity is gone and Philadelphia just feels clean. I’m sure we’ll manage to muss that up tomorrow, but right now i want to go lie in my tiny rowhome backyard and smell that unmistakably city-smell of rain evaporating out of concrete sidewalks and watch the odd little weed with tiny blue flowers try to prove itself a rosebush through the cracks in the cement. Creeping up past the tiny china-cracks into the very bottom of a blue sky.

There are worse Sundays spent worse ways than this.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/06/4109963/

Filed Under: Philly, Year 01 Tagged With: rain, walking

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