This is a tumblr. DUH! Haha. Well i made this tumblr because i feel in love with a book called CRANK. So im going to pretty much put the book on tumblr. Why? Because i wanted to. I thought wht the hell not!? So, im not going to tell you my name, age, were i live, or any personal stuff. Now, here is how this works: Every week, i am going to post up a few pages worth of reading up. I will not tell you what happens next after you read what i posted up. If you have ANY questions or anything, please go to my formspring. <3
Now here is the begining of CRANK! Enjoy!! ((:
Life was good before i met the monster. After, life was great. At least for a little while. Intoduction. So you want to all about me. Who i am. What chance meeting of brush and canvas painted the face you see? What made me despise the girl in the mirror enough to transform her, turn her into a stranger, only not. So you want o hear the whole story. Why i swerved off the high road, hard left to nowhere, recklessly indifferent to those coughing my dust, picked up speed no limits, no top end, just a high velocity rush to madness. Alone, everything changes. Some might call it distorted reality, but it’s exactly the place i need to be: no mom, Marie, ever more distant, her midlife quest for fame. no stepfather, Scott, stern and heavy-handed with unattainable expectations. no bih sister, Leigh, caught up in a tempest of uncertain sexuality. no little brother, Jake, spoiled and shameless in his thievery of my niche.
Alone, there is only the person inside. I’ve grown to like her better than the stuck-up husk of me. She’s not quite ilent, shouts obscenities just because they roll so well off the tongue not quite straight-A, but talented in oh-so-many- enviable ways, not quite sanitary, farts with gusto, picks her nose, spits like a man, not quite san, sometimes, to tell you the truth, even i even wonder about her. Alone, there is no “perfect” daughter, no gifted high-school junior, no Kristina Georgia Snow. There is only Bree.
On Bree… I suppose she’s always been there, vague as a soft copper pulse of moonlight through blossoming seacoast fog. I wonder when I first noticed her, slipping in and out of my pores, hide-and-seek spider in fieldstone, red-bellied phantom. I summon Bree when dreams no longer satify, when gentle clouds of monotony smother thunder, when Kristina cries. I remember the night I first let her go, opened the smeared glass, one thin pane, cellophone between rules and sin, freed.
More on Bree… Spare me no Psych ‘01 lables, Im no more schizo than most. Bree is no imaginary playmate, no overactive pituitary, no alter ego, moving in. Hers is the face i wear treading the riptide, fathomless oceans where good girls down. Besides, even good girls have secrets, ones even their “best friends” must not know. Who do they turn to lonely moon-shadowed sidewalks? I’d love to hear them confess: Who do they become when a cool puff of smoke and vampires come out to party?
SORRY but i have to stop here! You will find out more soon. (:
REMEMBER: formspring.me/crankk! leave comments. <3