Hey there you unholdable shadow

Agony is borne of desire, so says Buddha. I say desire is healthy, when it doesn't control you. Maybe that's what Buddha meant. I'm not sure, and I can't live by the Buddha's words anyway. I quit pretending to be a trendy Buddhist long ago. So while I might shirk the clothing of formal religion, I happilly wear the garb of the hopeless, or hopeful, romantic. And so I've fallen in love with somebody quite far away from me, through the means of short bursts of meeting in Chicago last year. None of this is bad. It's quite wonderful, actually. I just miss her. A lot, sometimes. Even though I can feel her beating inside of me.

I love you girl

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When My Own Brain Causes Me to Fuck Up Collossally

There I was, just sitting in the airport terminal, waiting to take a big, comfy plane ride to an all-expenses trip to Orlando, Florida. What's the catch? Oh, maybe I'd have to sign a few hundred autographs, get my picture taken several dozen times, and put up with being harmlessly stalked when I ventured too far from my hotel room.
But apart from that, I get free food, a free trip to Islands of Adventure, and a stipend on top of it all.
Not bad, huh?
Sure, unless you're an agoraphobe whose panic disorder decides to rear its head just as your row is called to board.

Okay, here's how it happened...
I'm sitting there, mildly nervous, 'cause you know, travelling is a stressful thing in and of itself, and I've been travelling a LOT lately. Well, I need to say here that I've had some mild sinusitis with post-nasal drip these past few days, and that can do odd things to your body, or rather unomfortable things. Certainly things that can send agoraphobe into panic mode at the drop of a hat... or the call of a row...
Anyway. I'd had like next to nothing for breakfast, so I got that sort of 'empty stomach' indigestion, and I began to burp a little. I'm a total burp machine, so this is nothing uncommon, but... due, most likely, to post-nasal drip, messed-up tastebuds, and the mild sinusitis, I tasted something odd when I burped that may or may not have been blood. Most likely it was something else, but you get the picture, it scared me.

Okay, so now I'm going to let you into the mind of a neurotic agoraphobe... this is how the thought process went from there: " oh man I think I'm tasting blood and oh shit the plane's about to board okay hey wait what if I can make myself burp again and not taste anything but nope there I did it again and I still taste blood ( or is it blood, maybe it's just PND or traces of blood from having irritated sinuses or maybe I'm sort of conjuring the whole thing ) but no no I definitely taste something oh no oh no what if I'm at thirty-thousand feet and I vomit blood or I cough up blood or I bleed out and oh no oh no I die at thirty-thousand feet " ' F-List V.O. and Stage Actor dies at thirty-thousand feet from... somehow bleeding to death from his stomach even though nothing was apparently wrong with his stomach, back to you Trisha ' "... oh man oh man oh shit I can't skip out on this convention but what if that really is blood? oh shit oh shit oh shit fuck fuck fuck what do I do? oh fuck they just called my row I have to make a decision NO FUCK IT I CAN'T HANDLE IT I'M LEAVING"

And that's exactly what I did. I cancelled my flight at the counter, made arrangements for my baggage to be flown back to Houston, and I left.

Feeling like a tremendous loser, failure, weakling, pathetic numbnuts asshole.

NOT because I'm phobic,
NOT because I was born with a chemical imbalance
BUT BECAUSE I KNEW BETTER. Somewhere, deep down, WAY deep down in this case, I knew better.
But the truth is, if you've ever experienced even a mild panic attack in the sky, you know it's something you never want to go through again.

So, what's the answer? Well, first I DID want to write about it, to somehow put it out there so that it might be deflated and disempowered. To take the mystery out of the fear.
Next. I probably need to adjust the dosage of my medication, which, yes, sucks, but it's a reality.

Now I have to face the fact that I'm letting hundreds, if not thousands, of people down this weekend, I'm missing out on a free roller-coaster riding excursion, and late nights in lagoon pools in a pleasant climate, all because I couldn't surmount the bad chemical trick my brain was playing.

I must MUST control and let go of, my fear.

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It's Been "The Musical Year of the Crazy English Bitch", Hasn't It?

It seems that every year has a sort of musical theme. No matter what other categories, genres, or subgenres may be bursting forth in any given year, there is always one predominating force that sort of stirs the Zeitgeist's pot.

I have named the musical year of 2006-2007, The Year of the Crazy English Bitch.

Why?

First, there was Lady Sovereign, "the biggest midget in the game", "your royal highness", the "nasty" girl who, according to her, "needs a diet", "might burp in your face", and has "hairy armpits". Sure. Why not? The truth is, her rap may have some of the best flow the world has heard since Eminem. The problem? She's a girl, and an ENGLIGH girl, heaven forbid. Needless to say, lots of "hardcore" rap fans have had their issues with this. To them I say tough titty. She's fun... Crazy and nasty, yes, but fun. And talented. And I love her.

Enter Lily Allen. Oh my, now this bird... She's cute as a button, has maybe the bitchiest attitude of the bunch, and sings like a woebegone songbird. But just watch one of her interviews. Fuckin' nuts. And I love her.

Ah, and this could only bring us to the reigining princess of Crazy English Bitches, Amy Winehouse. Underweight, over-tattooed, an alleged coke addict, alcoholic, and just plain sloppy mess. How much of a mess? She has, reportedly, taken breaks in her live shows to go puke off stage. How crazy? During one interview, she broke a bottle and began cutting her boyfriend's name into her skinny tummy. Really? Apparently, yes. Who knew? The new Sid Vicious is a young woman from England who sings Neo Motown.
And I love her.

I will never tire of the weirdness of the music industry.

Long live the Crazy English Bitches!

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LISTS

RECENT BOOKS I'VE READ/ AM CURRENTLY READING:

Everything's Eventual by Stephen King
Heart Shaped Box by Joe Hill
Possible Side Effects by Augusten Burroughs
Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince by J.K. Rowling
The Pet Shop Boys, Literally by Chris Heath

CITIES I'VE BEEN TO:
Newark, New Jersey
New York, New York
Sacramento, California
Los Angeles, California
Long Beach, California
Austin, Texas
Denton, Texas
Dallas, Texas
Fort Worth, Texas
San Antonio, Texas
Amarillo, Texas
Boston, Massachussetts
South Bend, Indiana
Chicago, Illinois
Santa Fe, New Mexico
Denver, Colorado
Boulder, Colorado
Tampa, Florida
Orlando, Florida
Galveston, Texas
Texas City, Texas
Columbus, Texas
Luckenbach, Texas
Cypress, Texas
Brenham, Texas
New Orleans, Louisiana
Hockley, Texas
Monterrey, Mexico
Yuma, Arizona
Phoenix, Arizona
Las Vegas, Nevada
Leicester, UK
Birmingham, UK
Bangor, Maine
Bar Harbour, Maine

COASTERS I'VE RIDDEN ( partial )
Superman Ride of Steel
Texas Giant
Titan
Mr. Freeze
Runaway Mine Train
Batman: The Ride
The Serpent
The Viper
Excalibur
Texas Cyclone
Cyclone
XLR8
Ultra Twister
The Incredible Hulk
Duelling Dragons
SheiKra
Scorpion
Gwazi
Kumba
Montu
Roar
Wild One
Thunderbolt
Space Mountain
Big Thunder Mountain
Matterhorn
Raging Bull
Vertical Velocity
Whizzer
Great American Scream Machine
Superman Krypton Coaster
Batwing
Roadrunner Express
Rattler
Poltergeist
Greezed Lightnin'
Judge Roy Scream
Cheetah Chase
Wild Mouse
High Miler
Texas Tornado
Taz's Texas Tornado ( Zonga )
Flashback
Shockwave

SOME GREAT SHOWS I'VE BEEN TO:
The Faint
Depeche Mode ( Touring the Angel )
The Bravery
Thrill Kill Kult ( 2000 Sex Tour )
Depeche Mode ( Singles Tour )
Depeche Mode ( World Violation )
Nitzer Ebb
Depeche Mode ( 101 )
OMD
Cyndy Lauper
Fischerspooner ( 2003 Tour )
Kenna
Dave Gahan
Prince ( Musicology )
Prince ( Purple Rain )

BROADWAY SHOWS I'VE SEEN ( on Broadway )
Spring Awakening
Rent
Sunset Boulevard
Noises Off
Miss Saigon
Les Miserables ( Ricky Martin was playing Marius... really poorly )
Mamma Mia
The Producers
Smokey Joe's Cafe
The Rocky Horror Show
Cabaret
A Funny Thing Happened On the Way to the Forum

OFF BROADWAY
Blue Man Group
Cowgirls
Tick Tick Boom!

yeah, okay, so lists... they make me feel centerred.

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FRIED FOOD AT THE BASE OF THE HILL COUNTRY

I remember when my Mom first told me, about a year ago, that she and my step dad were considering leaving the West End of Galveston Island for the tiny town of Columbus, Texas at the base of Texas's hill country. This is the town where my Grandmother resides, and in fact spent a majority of her life with my Grandfather, who passed in 2001.

Obviously, I think Mom feels an obligation to be close to grandMom as grandMom reaches her 80th year. I wasn't sure if this was enough to base such a huge life-change and move on, but she and the step dad did it. And I must say, after my trepidation and general tainted nostalgia of summers of my uber youth spend in Columbus faded, and I gave the new house and the town a new onceover, let's say with more mature eyes, I'm thikning it may not have been such a bad idea for them.

They've both already landed great jobs in their field ( education/ administration ), their new house is Old Skool Bomb Diggity ( those adjectives rocked so shut up! ), they're right on the Colorado River, and my GrandMom is about as happy as she can be that her eldest daughter is close to the nest once again.

The only ( mild ) complaint I have about Columbus, other than the fact that I will always pretty-much be a citiboi, is its lack of relative healthy eateries. Today, in fact, we ate at this very clean and even small-town atmospheric restaurant that served, and I kid you not, fried pickles... which, of course, I had to eat. Excellent, salty, greasy. Yay.

Anyway, I'll miss visiting Mom at her beach house on Galveston's West End ( what some friends of mine and I jokintly call Houston's Hamptons ), but I think I can get used to spending some random nights on the second story of the beautiful new house on the muddy river's banks.

For sure.

love,
Chris

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My Band Needs A Better Publicity Machine

I keep close tabs on Jeffree Star. Love him or hate him, that little queen has really tapped into something. I don't know if it's the androgyny thing, the 'cult of eating disorder' thing, or some other fucking 'thing', but it's something, that's for sure.

As some of you may or may not know, Jeffree does 'music', which he describes as 'electro' or 'dance'. Basically, this involves him talking about plastic surgery, makeup, or spitting on a dancefloor over a third-rate drum machine, and some pretty catchy synthlines. As a vocalist and musician in an all-electronic band, I am a little insulted, and very intrigued by this phenomenon, because this transgendered Peaches knock-off pretty much sells out wherever he goes. In fact, his newly-announced London show sold out in less than twenty-four hours. THAT I respect.

But here's the catch: His music isn't very good. Duh. The lyrics are vapid, the beats predictable, and the hooks the stuff of pre-polished Fischerspooner or The Faint. My band, on the other hand, while still in Mr./ Ms. Star's basic genre, delves a little deeper in melody and lyrical content. I can honestly say this without bias. It's a no-brainer. My band also puts on very catchy, kitschy live shows and tends to go over VERY well when we draw a big crowd. But see, that's the thing, we only draw a big crowd about 40% of the time.
Why? Because we never did Paris Hilton's make-up
Because we're not internet celebutantes
Because we only wear about half the make-up Jeffree Star wakes up in

But most importantly, becuase we don't have a giant publicity machine behind us. I have a feeling if we did, we would be nearly unstoppable. It's a matter of finding the resources, impressing the right people, and kissing the right asses.

Face it, no matter how good you are, these are the essentials to getting backing and developing a following.

Ah well, time to put my nose back to the grindstone... of course, I could always call Jeffree to do my make up if I scrape said nose up too badly.

-Chris-

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I Am A Rock

but not really

I just fucking miss my friends

in the end, not a big deal

but, sometimes it's like I'm a blonde obelisk in the middle of a white landscape of blah

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Here I Sit

Silence Serenity Subtlety

It's late, and I'm hungry.

There's a lot on my mind, but nothing on my plate, as it were.

I have a lot to do tomorrow, as far as straightening things out, and the like, but at least it's Friday, and I am getting paid, no matter how little.

I've started reading "Heart Shaped Box" by Joe Hill, and it may be one of the truly great modern horror novels. Though of course it's early to fawn so shamelessly. But I shall see. And of course I'm still working on the sixth Harry Potter book, which I am finding quite charming and not too little interesting.

I'm starting to recover from my travel fatigue, and am really looking forward to my trips to Orlando, the UK, and Canada. I miss the quaintness of Leicester, and even though I'll only be experiencing it for a few days, it will at least be an experience that I get to relive. Canada, I'm not too sure about, though I'm sure it will be lovely in its way, and of course Orlando means rollercoasters, so big yays for that.

I haven't been able to talk to my blonde lovely tonight much, but perhaps she needs this break from me. Sometimes I feel I am too intense for her. And of course, I miss the ever-absent Jamie, who is off in Legal La La Land somewhere, helping somebody, making money, or whatever it is she does. Not that I don't know, I just can't imagine being so busy that you never ever have the time to communicate with your oldest friend in the world.

Alas.

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What Is Stupidity?

Goodness knows it shouldn't. I mean, it's really none of my affair, is it? It's somebody else's problem. The thing is, though, that stupidity affects us all, at one time or another. And I think I've figured out what it is about stupidity that infuriates me so. Stupidity, in its simplest form, seems to be an inability to see gray. It's living in a state of black and white, good and evil, write and wrong, simple as all that. When clearly, life is NOT as simple as all that. Shades of gray DO exist, and right and wrong aren't ALWAYS clearly defineable nouns.

There.

I'm so happy I figured that out.

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Have You Ever Blown Your Nose So Much That You Can Feel The Corner Of Your Eye Start To Flutter?

And it always seems to happen after a particularly nasty allergy attack or upper respiratory infection. It's almost as if I've been blowing my nose so hard and so often that some new sort of chamber has opened up in the corner of my left eye. It's like I can feel aire moving in and out of there when I blow. I have a suspicion that the reality of this situation has something to do with the connection of sinus passages, which seem to run all about the underside of our face and forehead, like some sinnewy, mucosal subway system... where bacteria can travel without a token, no less. I suppose if I could afford a doctor to go ask about this, I would, thought it simply doesn't seem that pressing. I believe, I will instead, keep saving my money so that I can keep purchasing my anti-anxiety medication. ;-)

Until later, blow carefully!

Chris

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Away from there

No fans watching. No scornful eyes, waiting for me to fuck up or say the wrong thing, or open up 'too much' about myself. Kinda refreshing, and yet, I have to wonder how long it will last. Before certain people find me on here, expecting me to only talk about what I do during the day to try and pay bills.

It doesn't matter. Maybe they won't find me. Maybe they won't care to. Maybe they're happy enough with that other 'Space'.

Here's hoping.

For now, I look forward to actually always speaking my mind.

Chris

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