KRIS
It’s late. A girl in the other lineup was looking at me. That flattening stare. The way they see me. I can relate a bit with how women seem to have no choice but put up with society objectifying them: the bombshell, the wallflower, the sports babe. I’m the rock star. Or at least that’s what I feel reduced to, thanks to a couple of videos and me being the vocalist, which meant the camera was mostly on me. And to her, the girl in line, I’m not much more than a reflection of my lyrical imaginings filtered through hers, and yet she doesn’t see it this way. She sees her imaginings projected upon me like I were playing onstage at Field Trip or something, imaginings diluted by her unexamined needs. And so, I’m not Kris Treble. I’m the version of me I wrote in collaboration with Waz and Kend
