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OCD Godzilla

Monsters In Plain Sight

November 3, 2011 by krisis

I seem to have a magnetic, animal attraction to strangers with monstrous personalities.

Not in a sexual way. No, this is a totally platonic urge to toss myself into the maw of a crazy person to be shredded by the sharp teeth of their personality.

I will always choose the most terrifying, egomaniacal person to pair with given any group of relative strangers that needs to break into smaller groups. It doesn’t matter whether it’s for conversation or to board an amusement park ride – I will select the monster.

I apparently have a deep-seated urge to spend time in the company of sociopaths. I want to impale myself on the pointy bits of their psyche.

I’m trying to figure out why I keep doing this to myself. Is it a masochistic tendency? Do I get off on defending myself against these beasts?

Am I a Monster Hag? Like, is my inner OCD Godzilla looking for long term companionship with someone else’s terrifying personality traits? Do I feel like I am a monster who needs to wrangle with my own kind, like grown men on a movie set dressed in massive rubber suits.

Worse: Am I that monster?

I don’t think so. I certainly hope not. I might like to talk about myself, but I also have the journalistic urge to know more about other people, which hopefully tones down my horror as a chat partner.

I think it’s more likely that I see the potential for me to be a loudmouth in a pairing with someone slightly retiring, so I try to pick the one person in a crowd of strangers who seems more gregarious than me. Why have us both dominate conversation with someone else when we can banter loudly with each other? It’s just like dinner with my Italian family!

Except, I’m gregarious on limited topics. I don’t, to draw from a recent actual example, open conversation with a stranger with, “I think I know how we can fix all of your problems.”

What I forget is that my friends who can maintain conversational gambits with me, interrupting back and forth, are all (mostly) sane, (mostly) rational actors in life.

They are not monsters. Even my loudest, craziest friends did not start out as these disaster-movie drop-outs. No good can come of connecting with them.

The next time I get to pick my own social poison I am going with the opposite of my gut. If there is a loudmouth hand-raiser with crazy eyes, I am making a bee-line for the shy one with the nice smile.

It’s for their own safety, as much as it is for mine.

What about you? Do you find yourself facing off against conversation monsters? What is your exit strategy?

(PS: This post was drafted as “that girl is a monster,” but I didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea. However, feel free to listen to Lady Gaga singing “Monster” now that you’ve read it.)

Filed Under: thoughts, Year 12 Tagged With: OCD Godzilla

Happy Birthday To This

August 26, 2011 by krisis

Playing Eric Smith’s book release party in November. One of my favorite non-blog images of the year, as captured by the keen eye of Daily News cover boy @MikeIl

An anniversary in three movements: Context, Accomplishment, & Gratitude.

.

1st – Context

Philadelphia seems to be heading towards the apocalypse full speed ahead, much to the consternation of the general public (and the delight of my end-times obsessed best friend Gina).

First it was violent flash mobs. A few weeks ago it was a terrifying stories-high fire we could see from our office, followed by a week and half deluge of rain. Then, we had an unlikely earthquake. Now we’re worried about a hurricane.

It’s either a modern twist on a series of biblical plagues, or we are playing some sort of sick game of disaster Bingo with all of the squares filled with lyrics from “The End of the World as We Know It.”

I am waiting for the universe to call “bird and snakes,” or perhaps “Leonard Bernstein.”

AC in Collingswood last September, shot by Jay Donahue.

I witnessed the fire, rain, and earthquake firsthand, but not the mobs or the impending hurricane. I don’t know about them through traditional media. I have no idea when I last watched a weather report. I haven’t watched television news since 2004, and I generally don’t read the newspaper unless it’s running one of my ad campaigns.

I don’t need to. My social networks break news when it is relevant to me, regardless of if it’s the evening news.

That is life (and news) at the speed of Twitter. By comparison, blogs are the slow, galumphing cousin of social media, where we tweet at the speed of thought and voluntarily track our movements from bar to bar and report on whatever we’re watching or hearing.

And traditional media? CNN dot com didn’t have a headline banner up about the earthquake five minutes after it happened. Meanwhile, Twitter already had pinpointed the epicenter and estimated the magnitude.

Blogs can be galumphing, but at least they’re galumphing by choice. I tweeted about the earthquake, then I checked into it on FourSquare, before finally writing a blog post the next day on the train, when I felt like I had something to say.

Backstage at the Tin in September, shot by Gina.

I don’t own a blog to be fast. I’ve been there and done that, babe. I used to post 140-character bulletins four times an hour long before Twitter was a glimmer in Ev’s eye.

In fact, I started doing it eleven years ago today.

Where?

Here, on Crushing Krisis – Philadelphia’s longest running blog.

.

2nd – Accomplishment

This is the first blog year where I have felt entirely like an adult for the duration.

It didn’t really have much to do with my impending 30th birthday, or even with E and I owning a house. It was more that many years of work and planning and practicing and acquiring are finally paying dividends in the present.

Dressed as Empire Records for Halloween, shot by our friend Tina.

A year ago today the biggest news was that we lived in a house, but it was eclipsed by the even bigger OMFG fact that I had been blogging for a whole decade.

This year the biggest news is smaller, subtler, yet it was the news that eclipsed CK, rather than the other way around.

I was published by our local CBS affiliate, and the bands I covered saw trickle-down articles as a result. Arcati Crisis added a drummer, and later a bassist, while I became the full-time bassist for Filmstar. I wrote songs for the soundtrack of a novel, and later played the book release party. I wrote an entire novel of my own in one month.

I listened to 200+ LPs released in 2010 so I could finally pen a fully-informed Best Albums of the Year list. I played a sold-out show supporting a musician who I adore. I swore on this very blog that I would earn my learner’s permit and then learned to drive. I got really serious about fitness and going to the gym(!), especially when it involved yoga, and am presently in the best shape of my life. I gigged in all but one month of the year, and had fewer and fewer complaints about my performances.

I was in two wedding parties, but the stupidest thing I wound up doing didn’t even involve me being drunk or at a bachelor party (or both). I finally, belatedly got my license. My blog quite unintentionally turned a profit on a feature I was writing for my own OCD entertainment. I finally implemented the EdCal I’ve been drafting for two years. I engineered a day of drum recording to break ground on my first ever multi-track full-band project.

Me looking snazzy and E in her wedding dress at Dorian’s Parlor, as shot by Gina Martino.

The beauty of those accomplishments is that their entire lineage is contained within this blog. We can trace my 2011 accomplishments back to their 2001 roots – writing CD reviews for our school paper, sleeping through production class, playing open mics while staring down my ex-girlfriend, making and keeping friends (that were later in our wedding), and flexing my OCD muscle on special projects.

The story of a year isn’t told only through its accomplishments. I did things for fun, too. I confessed my obsession with mopping. I summed up my life as a video game and then, ironically, turned Gina’s life into one. I made E tie me to a chair so I could work out plot points for my book. I fell in love with a weird-ass David Bowie vampire flick. I professed my love for unadulterated pop again and again and again. I taught Gina a guitar solo by singing like a Skeksi. I had a near-death experience involving lime popcorn.

I went to a nearly-nude live dancing girls club for the first time. I compared driving to a superhero learning to fly. I undertook a DIY landscaping project with E, against my better judgement. I started incorporating my comic fandom into the blog. I became a full-time older brother for two whole months, and loved it. I opined on the pitfalls of rock band sweat. I explained how I stay organized as a musician.

All that in a year in which I was pretty certain that I didn’t blog enough.

Being suave at Ross & Laura’s wedding in April, shot by Melon.

Whether I was a good blogger or not, I didn’t mention everything significant that happened to me. Not my hours of constant bass playing to get up to snuff for Filmstar, and subsequently buying not one but two more basses. Not finishing Version 1.0 of my song database, including programming a word cloud from scratch. Not my hard-won camaraderie with local musicians I adore. Not our first true Arcati Crisis rock show. Not finally feeling comfortable hanging out with our friends that have babies. Not our epic drive back from Jake’s wedding in Gettysburg and how I love having him as a weekly presence in my life. Not my first producer-for-hire session in my home studio.

Except, really those things live here too, because I tweet my thoughts all the time, and I archive my tweets at CK. Call it a concession to that omnipresent internal OCD Godzilla.

I simply cannot write words down without knowing they are going to be archived somewhere for posterity.

.

Perpetrating utter madness at Gina’s bachelorette party in July, shot by Gudrun.

3rd – Gratitude

Eleven years ago today if I had told you – or, anyone, really – that I authored a blog, the reaction would likely be “a what?”

Last Friday I sat in the audience of an awards show thrown by a blog that gave awards to blogs, and whose audience was largely bloggers – or, at least, blog readers who also tweet.

On Tuesday we had an earthquake. In Philadelphia. Or, at least, I thought we did. A minute later I knew it wasn’t my imagination. Two minutes later I also knew they felt the quake in Arlington, Syracuse, and Toronto.

We are past the point of debating the purpose of a blog, or of Twitter. They’ve become so ubiquitous that their presence is assumed as a matter of course. Whether you’re working on a new corporate sitemap or a band page, you’ll hear the same pair of questions: Where’s the blog? Where’s the “Follow Us” link?

Last Friday @ The Geek Awards, shot by E.

No matter how much work I do to answer those questions in professional and personal settings all week long, when it comes to asking myself there’s never any doubt. Social networking has become more than a passtime or habit for me – it’s ritual, almost unconscious. Even when it’s hard work it’s as easy to do as breathing.

Thank you for making a conscious decision to be a part of my ritual, today and any other day you have read CK. Maybe you visit the site, or have me in an RSS feed, or clicked through from Twitter, or read via Facebook note.

I don’t really care how you got here. I care that somehow, against every possible odd and all of my procrastinating tendencies, Crushing Krisis sits in the first page of search rankings for “Longest Running Blog” … even if that’s only true in my fine disaster-plagued city of brotherly love.

Thank you for being a part of this marvelous thing that has tracked my progress to living the exact fantasy I pictured back in 2000, only as a way better singer and with a way hotter wife.

Thank you as a member of two actively gigging rock bands and as a solo artist.

Thank you as the holder of a brand new PA Driver’s License.

Thank you from a body that I feel comfortable inside of for the first time in thirty years of life.

Thank you times eleven years, or 4017 days, or exactly 1.182 million words, or to whatever numerical value you would personally ascribe to being happy and fulfilled 24 hours a day, seven days a week – and merrily blogging and tweeting all the while.

Thank you, and happy birthday to this.

Filed Under: august 26th, Year 11 Tagged With: OCD Godzilla

the tyranny of the click

August 18, 2011 by krisis

I have never been good at playing to a click track.

[For non-musicians, a click track is a simple rhythm track that plays in your ear while you record to help you keep time. It can be as simple as a beats-per-minute setting that plays a little “beep” for every passing beat.]

For a long time that was a function of other, more major issues in my guitar playing. I was dropping beats left and right and my strums were like the thrashes of a dying man. Not lining up with clicks was the least of my problems.

I still cannot quite play to a click track, even with half a lifetime to refine my playing. Now my problem is syncopation – I so very rarely strum on all the downbeats the click usually slides away from me as I play.

Why is the click so important?

First, it satisfies the musical leanings of my internal OCD Godzilla, who needs things to be both perfect and perfectly aligned. He does not truck with deviations in speed or rhythm, and has put the nix on many fine solo recordings of mine because they ever-so-slightly sped up.

Second, for flexibility. Overdubbing, stealing riffs for other verses, patching biffed guitar solos, and dance remixes. They’re all easier when a song is recorded to a consistent click track.

Though I still can’t play to basic clicks, after a year of drumming with Zina I have no problems playing to a basic rhythm that sketches in a bit more than just the main beats in a measure. A simple rhythm on my Casio keyboard can now keep my songs in time.

That’s fine for me solo, but what about the entire band?

We’ll find out on Saturday: we have a drum engineering session scheduled with Zina. She’ll record her parts to two Filmstar songs with a metronome playing in-ear, and then we’ll all dub our parts on top of her.

In effect, we’re recording like a real band would record, which makes our house a real recording studio, and me a real recording engineer. Plus, the tracks will be a consistent speed.

OCD Godzilla is incredibly pleased.

Filed Under: ocd, rehearsal Tagged With: OCD Godzilla

Happy Birthday To This

August 26, 2010 by krisis

A tenth anniversary post in five parts, accompanied by ten years of photos from the blog.

One of CK’s earliest mastheads, from 2000-2001.

I. The Measure of a Decade – what do ten years really mean?
II. My Random Niche – how CK began, and what it became
III. Excelsior, Always – my year in review
IV. The Unhealthy Habit – how CK changed my life (finally) (again)
V. Past Is Prologue – my gratitude for the past ten years
[Read more…] about Happy Birthday To This

Filed Under: august 26th, Year 10 Tagged With: OCD Godzilla

But I Regress, pt. 1

August 3, 2010 by krisis

With the launch of my monster definitive guide to collecting X-Men comic books as graphic novels, I have officially become a fifteen year-old.

Allow me to explain. Or, to begin to, as I’m sure this is a multiple-post-spanning story (just as that website feature was a multiple-month spanning obsession to research).

A few months ago Philly-local social media mover/shaker/sandwich-connoisseur @MikeyIl threw a series of events for the Ford #FiestaMovement. One of them was an all-local art show, featuring work by my partner-in-fame Britt Miller, as well as Eddidit and others.

Being Britt’s unpaid intern / personal assistant / life coach and a faithful supporter of friends and local artists, I got my ass there – even though the event was smack in the middle of negotiating the price of our house with our Realtor over the phone.

(Literally. Drunk friends: “What are you doing?” Me, to phone: “Hold on a second.” Me, to friends: “Oh, I just got another few thousand dollars knocked off the price of our house.” Drunk friends: “Wowwww.”)

Where was that fateful art show held?

Brave New Worlds. A comic book shop.

Here at Crushing Krisis I haven’t ever fully explained my addiction to comic books, c. 11/1991 – 4/1996.

X-Men #24, one of my favorite comic covers.

It was a brief but tumultuous affair. Comic books combine my love of serial narrative with an OCD urge to make meticulous, alphabetical lists. They created a 10-year-old who would do anything to earn $40 a month to pick up every book bearing the image of Wonder Woman or an X-Man.

(Seriously, I’m surprised I wasn’t peddling coke for my neighbor. It’s a good thing my guitar habit didn’t get to drug-running levels of expense until after college, when I was salaried.)

For only collecting for four-and-a-half years, my comic collection is prodigious. Not only did I collect new issues weekly, but in the pre-spreadsheet days the adolescent OCD Godzilla in my soul – a mere tadpole, at the time – compiled lists of back issues by hand… lists twenty and thirty pages long, complete with estimated budgets and timelines for purchase. Every few months my father engaged my whim, and I checked off line after line.

I was hardcore. The guys at the comic store treated me like I was twice my age (now ironic) because I was so on top of my shit with my pull lists and my back issue pricing and my discussions of the Magneto’s morality and if the ends truly justified the means.

Then came the internet. AOL dial-up cost by the hour, and I was hooked on it within minutes of my first sign-in in January of 1996. Four months later my wallet issued an ultimatum: limit my internet usage, or jettison my comic addiction – now complicated by Marvel’s 90s’ decadence of holographic covers and limited series.

The real decider was probably a demo of Warcraft II, a living digital board of Risk I could play over and over again with my friends over my 14.4 baud modem.

I dropped the comics and never looked back.

Until last month.

(To be continued! In the meantime, if you’re a closet x-fan who wouldn’t know a pull list from their elbow, check out definitive guide to collecting X-Men comic books as graphic novels – the easiest (and cheapest) way to be an adult comic book fan.)

Filed Under: art, comic books, ocd, Philly, stories, Twitter Tagged With: OCD Godzilla, X-Men

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