Crushing Krisis

Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand

thoughts

My Whole Crushing Life

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About fifteen years ago I started writing a novel called “Crisis Team.”

It was about being a high school student abducted by a secret organization, and having super-powers. I made Gina read my latest drafts every week in health class.

The particular deux ex machina of the early bits of the novel was that the narrator (AKA me) discovered a super-powered, super-portable laptop that was wirelessly connected to the entire network of the super-secret organization.

Fifteen years later my internet handle is “krisis” and I am writing this post from the back of a SEPTA bus on my 10″ mini-laptop, now empowered with a mobile broadband connection that lets me post from anywhere in the city.

In conclusion:

(1) I am now living in my imagined life; the only difference is that I am a rock star rather than a superhero.

(2) I have to get used to writing posts short enough that I won’t miss my stop.

Addicted to Twitter: Intro

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They say you can make or break a habit in just 21 days. If that’s true, today is the official confirmation of my Twitter addiction.

I had no plans of getting into Twitter when I made my first regular post on April 6. I was merely checking out the network for a project at work. Yet here we are three weeks later and I’m hooked.

Those three weeks happened to overlap with Twitter hijacking the news cycle, from Ashton’s joust with CNN to outrage about overhyped swine flu. Suddenly everyone was on Twitter … Oprah! My mother!

As with any phenomenon, the hype obscures the hit. My next few blogs offer a personal peek at my 21-days of forming a new habit. If I can get addicted, you can too. Start by following me.

The Life, It Is Good

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Last week I spent an evening writing about Tori Amos (which will surface here next week). In doing background research I came across the following quote:

A lot of people think darkness is making somebody emotionally defecate on themselves. That’s baby demon stuff. … These baby demons can be wonderful in some ways. Wonderful in some ways, highly conscious in some ways, but until they’ve done their work on their shadow, they are more concerned with the power of seduction and the control over another Being than anything else.” (Lucifer, per Tori, Piece by Piece)

I’ve been conscious of that lately – about the difference between having a negative opinion and trying to make someone doubt themselves. I’m a critic by nature, but I don’t want to be that baby demon. I don’t need anyone to feel bad to make me feel better. I’d rather give light than emanate darkness – especially not impotent baby-demon darkness.

Think about it that way – that everything you do either provides lightness or darkness. Every encounter – writing a record review; bumping into someone on the bus; being disappointed by a family member – in each instant you have a binary choice to make. Will you try to shed some light on the situation? Or, make it blacker – make it pejorative and hateful?

We all know that I don’t like warm weather, but I have to say that I appreciated our high-degree days this weekend. I sweat out all the toxicity I was fostering. The sky sucked it out of me like venom from a snake bite, and it oozed off me like tar.

I feel like I’m back.

Everything is local … even currency.

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I’m a pretty jaded news-browser, but this USA Today headline got my attention: Communities print their own currency to keep cash flowing.

Yes, in the United States.

It sounds a bit dubious in concept, but the practice is sound:

The systems generally work like this: Businesses and individuals form a network to print currency. Shoppers buy it at a discount — say, 95 cents for $1 value — and spend the full value at stores that accept the currency.

In the BerkShares system, residents can buy the local currency directly at the bank. Effectively, entire communities are locking into the same Gift Certificate system, and using that purchasing leverage to slightly lower prices across the board. It’s safer than buying gift certificates to a single store, as many Circuit City customers discovered earlier this year.

The missing element in the article is … who manages the cash? Are banks holding it in escrow until the money is spent at stores, and then reimbursing store owners who submit used bucks? And, what happens if a resident buys in and then wants to buy back out – do the local dollars exchange back to cash at the same rate they were bought?

Also, I’m interested in the counterfeit angle. Real money is one thing, but what could these local currencies possibly be printed on that’s safe from duplication? I’m sure the things can’t be photocopied – it’s easy enough to buy coded or watermarked stock – but what about bootleg versions? All it would take is a designer with a keen eye and a closet full of paper catalogs. Even a complex serial-numbering system wouldn’t help detect fakes at the register.

I’d love to get my hands on a piece and see if the designers at work could comp one that would pass muster.

HuffPost has some further coverage, and is seeking additional examples from readers.

Editor’s Note: Check out the comments for detailed answer from Mark Herpel from Community Currency Magazine. Note that the BerkShares system is using AB Craine, which supplies the US Mint. I’m sure other community cash programs – like the one in Detroit – might not have such high-end business partners.

only going up

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A few vignettes.

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I’ve been really exhausted lately. Not physically exhausted, though. Intellectually.

When we first got back from the honeymoon I was in my super-aggressive “What would Madonna do?” phase. Working fiercely, hitting open mics, having rehearsals, et cetera.

I still have the physical energy to do all of that, but I’m the past few weeks I’m lacking for the mindful fire. Not working on new songs, or writing blogs (clearly). Just working hard, eating, watching movies, and listening to music.

I know I was doing it because I was just a bit burnt out, but that’s sort of the point of the WWMD plan: there is not burnt out – only burning up. I have to be on fire constantly.

So, here I am cultivating the embers, and I get to this super-introspective place. Like, wow, there are people whose life this is. They work, eat, and sleep. Maybe they like watching movies, eating out, playing video games, or playing sports, but the w/e/s cycle is the point of them.

No output. No creativity. Just cycle and recycle.

Is that why people make up religion and children? Because they haven’t found anything better to do than watch basketball games?

I’m not asking to judge, I’m just trying to understand myself a little bit better. I’m all for having a loving god and a happy family, but I want to leave behind something more tangible than a bloodline and a fossil record.

On the other hand, how many years can you be burning up before you are permanently burnt out?

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Elise and I are in the process of starting our own little freelance duo.

Our first client is Joshua Popejoy, an LP Artist who is regular at the LP open mic. We made for a great fit, because Joshua didn’t have much in the way of press material (which boggled me, as he’s one of the more radio-ready artists out of the seemingly never-ending stream of local acts) and we didn’t have much in the way of a portfolio (silly, since we both do this sort of stuff professionally).

We started building some basic materials for Joshua, with an eye towards a 3/1 deadline so he could apply for some upcoming festival gigs, including MusikFest in Bethlehem, PA. I created a marketing plan and wrote his bio and press kit materials while Elise started on a website.

We heard on Wednesday that Joshua got picked to play the main stage at MusikFest.

I know he mostly got picked because he plays awesome, listenable, mainstream music. But, if even 1% of why he got picked was because I wrote a bio that makes you feel that music before it gets heard, then I did my job well.

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In March we bought a car.

It’s the most expensive thing I’ve ever bought, and the first thing I’ve legally owned with Elise.

It’s pretty and exactly what we wanted and I still don’t know how I feel about it. I’m finally excited to be able to drive, so I can do all the things I always want to do but can’t quite get to. On the other hand, everything feels farther away now. “Sure, I could get there on public transit in an hour, but you could drive me there in twenty minutes.”

As things get closer they start to feel farther away?

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I’ve been spending a lot of time on FaceBook and Twitter for some work and LP purposes

I’m typically resistant to pushing any original content through anywhere other than CK, because Ck is supposed to be the source. But I get a little chink in my armor for status updates. Like, hmm, its just 140 characters. What’s the worst that can happen?

It’s interesting how I don’t see 140 characters of my life as something blog-worthy. In my first month plenty of posts were just simple, single streams of thought. That’s what blogging was.

Now blogging is about hot links and meaningful, carefully proofread essays, and if you want minute-by-minute coverage you spend all day tweeting.

I’m really struggling to define that divide. I like the tiny status pings of a day gone by – it lets my know something actually happened in my life. But, do I want to give that all away to FaceBook or Twitter, where I’ll never really own it as my own?

On the other hand, do I really want to go back to all that tiny crap flooding across the CK main page?

I’m not sure. This digital world is so different than the one I originally found myself a part of in 2000. The thing that hasn’t changed is that I want to keep myself collected, so that in another nine years I can still witness all that went by.

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It’s been an interesting two months of married life. I’m more ambitious and inspired than ever, but I also feel suddenly so mainstream.

It’s a volatile concoction. If I let the two sides bleed into one another too much I wind up like the new Kelly Clarkson record – shiny and pleasing, but likely to be memorable only for being popular.

I have to stop obsessing about formulas and just be daring. I keep forgetting that I’ve always thought art is in the imperfections.