Crushing Krisis

Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand

thoughts

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The sky is so blue that it’s entirely intimidating — there is not another different color, shade, or hue to be seen past the orange bricks that make up circular rim of the building. I had intended to lie in bed while everyone else went through their morning routine, but lying there staring out into the endless blue with nary a cloud to be seen was entirely too unnerving for me. I quickly retreated to the computer, which is safely ensconced on the other side of the room — totally out of view of the window. I’m not sure why i find it quite so imposing… something about the clarity of it, i suppose.

The clarity scares me.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2002/04/75058021/

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A quick check of the pro page reveals that my two lowest volume posting months are February 2001 and last month.

Incidentally, those are the only two times in my life during which i had a girlfriend continuously for the duration of a month.

What this says about the mutable nature of my free time, my true relationship with personal publishing, or how much i like girls is for you to decide.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2002/04/75054043/

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They seem to be insisting that it’s beautiful outside; everyone is, that is. I can tell from here, i suppose, by the way the air in the house is still and that i am walking around in bare feet.

Caring this much about what someone else thinks of me is frightening. I’m not sure how else i feel about it.


I should open the window.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2002/03/75045867/

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It’s the same old house to me, really, no matter what. I’ve only been here for a little over half a year, but even the slopey ceilings and bare brick walls started losing their effect on me a while ago, and now nothing about it is thrilling. I suppose it’s hard for thrill and comfort to cohabitate in one place for too long, and now it’s just become ‘home’ rather than anything else. It’s a place for me to be weary, and to watch teevee, and to cook dinner. But, this morning we were all in the kitchen having waffles, ice cream, or both, and Elise looked to her left and said “it’s colorful.”


Following her gaze my first thought was that she was just looking out the window at the siding of the house next to us, which is just about anything but colorful — no matter how sunny it might be on the outside. But, it wasn’t the window she was staring at, but its sill. Our kitchen windowsill has become our makeshift house wetbar, and even at its current low tide it’s a cross-sectioned rainbow of apple green Pucker, the deep blue bottles of Skyy and irish cream, and the too clear Smirnoff letting the sun fall right through it.

“Colorful?” I pondered it more than i asked it. I suppose even the most routine of comfortable things are still thrilling in the right light.


A half hour later Kat was framing up a picture of the shadows that our blinds cast against the curtains, with Elise coaching on what to leave out of the edge, and inside it felt like we had rewound back past spring to last summer, and the wonder i had in my eyes at this place when it was empty and unfinished.


I am enjoying all of the seasons i have collected, as much as i am enjoying the spring that has now officially arrived.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2002/03/75028150/

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My fan is acting in the place of crickets and i peck as softly as i can at the keys. She yells at me for beating on her keyboard sometimes, because i seem to be under the impression that the harder i type the more effective my words will be. She’s asleep, i think, and here i am being gentler with my own keyboard than i usually am with hers.

The fan is acting in the place of crickets because everything has been rendered silent by the cool air it is pulling in from outside, with just enough chill in it to remind me that it’s not quite spring yet. I love wrapping myself up in that air and my blankets, but i am always sorry for it in the morning when i am redressed in a scratchy throat and dewy skin.

Erika has disappeared for the night. Lindsay has flown off to another state entirely. The neighbor has his lights off and his blinds closed. Kat is across the house from here, silent if not asleep. The fan and my tiny clacking keys are the only sounds in this room other than breath slowly sighing, and when i remember to breathe. It is only me that’s left to tiptoe to my bed, careful not to interrupt this perfect peace i have found myself situated within.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2002/03/75015620/