Crushing Krisis

Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand

boston

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So, i am going somewhere. Did you gather that much?


A few months ago (which seems like a much much longer time) Tori Amos released her North American tour schedule, and there was a Philadelphia date on it scheduled for today. I promptly emailed Rabi and Amy to inform them to leave the date open on their calendars. And then, as suddenly as the date was released it was suddenly struck from all of the tour schedules, leaving me with no way to see Tori. Rabi still had a chance, though, because Tori was playing in Boston at the beginning of her fall break. Surely Tori was reason enough for Rabi to get home in a timely fashion, and she’d have been responsible for enjoying her enough for herself plus Amy and I.


I lamented just that to Rabi via IM one evening only to be informed that it was actually Rabi’s mother on IM and that i’d be put into contact with Rabi shortly. And, shortly, Rabi appeared and asked if i’d like to come up to Boston to see Tori.

The next day we had plane tickets.


As for Tori tickets… through incredible circumstance and a tiny helping of my own concert-snobbery and incompetence, we are flying to Boston to see Tori without Tori tickets. I will add here that i have once before arrived at a Tori concert without tickets and promptly obtained fifth row seats, but i have no such illusion about this event. So, in nine hours (wow, still nine left…) i will be boarding a plane with a girl i’ve only ever met twice and flying to her city so that i can stay at her house so that we can (not) see Tori.


Nine hours and counting, no Tori tickets, no bags packed, and no pants. I’m definitely on pace for a relaxing weekend.

https://www.crushingkrisis.com/2001/10/6308788/

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Apparently asking to have one shirt and one pair of pants dry cleaned in the span of five hours is entirely impossible short of slipping c-notes through the drop-slot along with the pants (which reminds me, i didn’t check the pockets for cash…).


So, i am still not packed. I never pack until the last minute, really, so actually having picked out the clothes i want to take with me and laundering them seems to be a huge step in the right direction if you don’t count against me that i just gave my favourite three pairs of pants to the dry-cleaner who will guard them safely behind bullet-proof glass until Wednesday. That’s three less things for me to pack, i suppose…

https://www.crushingkrisis.com/2001/10/6308664/

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Everything is slightly under control. Or, i keep telling myself that. Whether it’s true or not is not going to matter until Tuesday because i am escaping Philadelphia for the weekend. It’s quite insane, actually, but it’s just about the only insane thing i’ve tried to do since i got out of my own house, so i’m enjoying it. Meanwhile, my mother wants to know when i’m leaving. When i’m getting back. What my flight numbers are. The number the place where i’m staying. What train am i taking to the airport. My answer to her went something like: Hello, get the fuck out of my life.

Typically i can tell her to back off and she does – this is a typical dance for us. But, lately i’ve really let my guard slip and suddenly my mother is in my face every time we see each other. All i let slip is that i’m going though a slightly depressive few weeks (which i’ve been having on and off for years and have never been so stupid to say anything about it to her), and then she sees the tiniest pipe in the world sitting on our table and suddenly every question is to the Nth degree. And, so, here i am whining to you about it instead of doing my Creative Writing Homework.

I just… hate her in a lot of ways. Aside from how awfully retarded my social growth was, i am a perfectly capable 20 year old … i hold down a huge academic scholarship, i’ve had a regular job ever since i started school two years ago, and this is my second year living on my own in an apartment without really asking her for any help with money. And, what really gets me, is that she has no concept of any of this… if i tell her that i can’t see her on a Wednesday because i have so much work due for Thursday she just stares at me with these blank eyes asking “Well, this will only take an hour or two.” If i complain that books are too damned expensive this term she tries to slip me twenties all day, but is then amazed when i was under the impression that she was going to buy me a package of toilet paper at Walmart.

Same old shit. Going to college in Philadelphia was at once the best idea and the biggest mistake i ever made. I wish so hard that i had chosen Boston instead, and then i’d be far away from her grasp and she couldn’t help but believe i was capable because she wouldn’t be able to lay a hand on me. But, here she is always able to track me down and find the chinks in my armor, no matter how small.


Sure, that’s what mom’s are for. Excuse me for not appreciating it just this once.

https://www.crushingkrisis.com/2001/10/6288825/

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Okay, so, let’s get some things straight. I love Tori. I am spending $300+ to see her on her current solo tour because i panicked when the Philly date was in question. I own all of her in-print singles. I like to talk like her. However, i wasn’t expecting a new album. I am still waiting to hear things she’s only mentioned like “Snow Cherries in France,” “To the Fair Motormaids of Japan,” “Like a Virgin,” and “Zero Point.” I am still looking for something to wipe the purple haze of To Venus and Back out of my mind.

Two years ago this Friday i had just moved into the Drexel dorms and it was the first day of class but i was having breakfast with the girls from Kelly #2, and i had just come back from French III in possession of this strangely shaped purple double disc. And, we sat drinking milk and gabbing about awful morning classes and those strange purple sounds began to creep in. I only awarded the disc three and a half stars in my effort to get published in the school paper, but i always undervalue my favourite artists on first listen to their new material. Soon it was custom; if i did not shut my eyes to “Bliss” playing on my headset i would not be asleep in time for “1000 Oceans” to drift away. But, i was still slightly put off by the purple taste in my mouth… the wrong songs from Under the Pink on the live album, faux strings where Tori would usually have a composer, melodies recycled and reconstituted, lyrics more obscure than observant. It was not quite what it was meant to be.

Two years later, Strange Little Girls is still not quite what i was looking for. At first the name seemed like it could be an all new album or even a beesides collection; Tori always refers to her songs as girls, so it seemed apropos. Even when a collection of covers was announced i almost assumed it would include such staples of her sets such as “Love Song” & “Landslide,” or maybe songs only teased at like Joni Mitchell’s winter ballad “River” or the Beatles classic “Hey Jude.” And, of course, Tori went and made an arty self-consuming project out of it.

Each song, she says, is a song by a man about a woman, and she is trying to get us to see the woman’s point of view without changing any of the lyrics. She’s subtle, or perhaps tricking us into accepting this album in lieu of the sure-to-come masterpiece that will follow the renegotiation of her contract. But, in the meantime, she has left us these 12 new windows into her world, and we cannot help but peer in with our hands cupped close around our eyes to make it seem like we are a part of her little blue world as it turns endlessly upside down.

https://www.crushingkrisis.com/2001/09/5770910/

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Today is a slippery fish of a life that i can barely hold onto, and i’m left trying to catch hold of it with my inadequate hands because i am oh-so-afraid to hurt it with my twines and hooks. Nothing is reeling in, but at the same time i am surrounded by possibilities. I just bought a plane ticket, for the first time ever; my grandmother set up the tickets for last year’s flights to and from Florida.

As life is swimming all around me, i have been spending a lot of time staring at this little white box with my head empty. Rereading the archives has this funny effect of proving that my life is endlessly cyclical, as i keep seeing the same topics churn up to the top. Next week is surely going to be all about once again packing my life into a single truck’s worth of possessions and obsessions and pulling up my roots, just like the first week was. And, looking into the fall, i see the same love/hate of classes, and the same wonderful slow-motion view of my life that i go into when sunlight streams in through new windows, and the chill creeping into the air as i pick a new favourite mug.

I was rereading the archives of the entire year i’m really glad that i have this, and you. My quality of life has improved, as ridiculous as that sounds, and i think this way i might be able to actually learn from my mistakes. And, to think, this all started just as a place to jot things down.

https://www.crushingkrisis.com/2001/08/5252671/