The Pick-up Chronicles...

... As they happened.

I was 18. I was sad and desperate. I haven't kissed more than 3 girls. And this is the list: My first kiss on an evengelic church with a girl I can't even remember, not a single detail. Laura, on her house, the time I ran away from home. And Pau, a girl who was my girlfriend because she liked me and I didn't have the balls to say no when she started to kiss me after a "tardeada".

That was it. Pretty sad, ain't it?


Well. I was 18. My dad ignored me most of the time. My mom was out of the house on mornings and she came to sleep in the afternoons. Then she would make dinner and go rest for the night. My brother was foll0wing my way in even the slightest detail. So If I did anythig stupid, he would too. I was trapped. And there was no way out of it.

So, I was a boy raised on a small town, living a simple life, driving a simple car, going to an over-estimated private school, wearing Converse All-star 24/7, having lots of female friends who were nothing more. And believe me, I would have liked it.

I had common clothes, common friends, and I lived mostly common situations. I had the courage to get into fights and stand for myself when I was about 15, but that pretty much faded away after I faced hunger and cold when I left my then-shitty situation and went out to conquer the world.

I was what the "pick-up" community refers to as a "A.F.C." or " Average Frustrated Chump".

You may have noticed that I haven't said anything about my looks, or name, or skills. That is because they changed. Well, actually I CHANGED THEM.

Let me tell you about the day things changed.
I used to take the school bus. every day. It was cheap and it left me in the corner of the street I used to live. Then, I met a girl. Damn.

-pause-
Spiky subject for me. I was afraid of them. They used to laugh in my face when I approached'em. I said something to them and they would either ROTFL or call me cute and make "Awww" faces. I wanted to take them to a dark corner and suck their necks out. I wanted them. I wanted their eyes looking at me and their hands holding mine so I wouldn't be alone at prom or while walking down the streets. I was a dreamy AFC.
-end of pause-

So I used to take the bus. And there was a girl, right? Well, this girl was kindda cute, and she had a cute smile, and lots of cute things. She was in my classroom and her boyfriend was the tipical jerk. Everyone's little high-school crush history. But I had something no one I knew had. Determination. Passion. Imagination. I was smart. I was unstopable.

I tried to talk to her one day, after she had broke with her jerk BF, I wrote the cutest things on a sheet of paper and walked her way when she was sitting on the main stairs of the school. I was sweating. I was fainting. I was stupid.

So I opened my mouth. The words came out. She listened. Tension.

I started to cry and said "en esta lista estan las cosas por las cuales creo que eres genial... y no puedo decirlas..."

I threw the sheet to the floor and looked at her eyes with mine covered in tears of frustration.
She picked up the list and tried hard to descifrate what it said.
It was futile.
I translated the list for her.
She said "Sorry... I'm returning to Garay, I love him"
My mind went blank. My body felt cold. I tought that I may never have a girlfriend.

That was it. That was the moment I realized. The first glitch of all those to come.
"Girls don't like good boys, so be a bad one".

That was the beggining. I needed love. I was 16. And the closest thing to a girlfriend I have ever had was a girl I used to visit and call, but got bored of me never telling her to be my girl and, yes, you guessed right, she got a jerk.

So, that day I realized I needed a change, but it was 4 years later when it happened.

End of Chapter One.

Chapter Two.
Becoming Crisis.

I had an e-mail. Yes, I bet you had one yourself. But, did you had an e-mail in every single page you could find? I bet you didn't.

My mail was crisisintheworld@... (think of any e-mailing service available. I had it). And I chose that screen-name because I wanted to make my pressence felt on this life. I was a geek. I passed my mornings surfing the net on my old computer with my way-old 56 kb/s connection. I used to buy a lot of comics and used to spend my day playing flash games. I used to watch a lot of porn. I didn't had a life. And my dream was to become a computer programer and have a cool desktop PC.

When I gave my e-mail adress people said: "Why CRISISintheworld?". I said: "No, It's CRIS-IS-IN-THE-WORLD". And it happened over and over as I gave my e-mail direction to nearly everyone. The first ten million times I made the point clear. Then I decided to say: "Yeah, It's CRISISintheworld". Crisis was born.

-pause-
"Heima" from Sigur Ros is one of the prettiest visual I have ever seen. Right now, I'm listening to "Hufupukar" from the album "Takk" on iTunes. Yesterday I fell asleep while watching the documentary right on this song. When listened in the right context, this band makes me soar 6 feet up...
-end of pause-

One of the things I noticed was that, when I told the history of how my name comes from a pronnouncing mistake, people got involved, and when said in different tones of voice and intensity, I got different reactions. I thought, "Why not telling this story in a very animated way, so, when people say my name, they can actually relate to those feelings of good vibe?".
That was my first experiment. I had 17 then.

So, I haven't kissed more girls than those that you can count with a trident. I told the "Crisis" history to girls, but the "vibe" died after the cortesy laugh. I needed new material.

I started to sing. I was good at it. I found a guy named "Merlo" who played guitar and we started to sing pop songs in between classes. We won second place on a school talent show and we got famous. I had friends who invited me over to drink. But I didn't drink. And I did smoke when I left home, but I had quit. Cool people did. Ergo, I was popular, but not cool.

High school ended and I still couldn't talk to girls. I got nervous and messed good chances. On Pre-prom night, there was a party, and one of my friends was next to the drunkest chick in the whole place. She got horny and started to kiss him. The girl's boyfriend face went pale. He kneeled down and started to cry. There and then, I learned from afar was it was to grieve. And secretly, I did wish to be my friend kissing that hot girl high on hormones. And alcohol. Me, not Crisis. Crisis was playing drums on a drum set someone had brought over to play cover songs.

So, it takes us to Crisis, the musician, the pick-up artist, the, quote, "...nearly rich, hot, pampered intellectual, with an always hard dick and a marathon tongue..." (description I couldn't write on myspace because I could scare nearly everyone). Yes, he is Crisis. But Crisis was the guy I talked about on Chapter One. He needed a tune-up. And he saw his chance when entering college.

End of Chapter Two.