Minimalism is an ideal close to perfection.
Tumblr of b&w photos & dreams of Ren Fracture.
I am also an artist.
View my artwork on tumblr at renfracture.tumblr.com
First I went to visit Katy Lyn at Larry FLynt Hustler Club in Lincoln Park, MI.
I went in to see her. She wasn’t very talkative. She said “hi” though.
I think secretly, I was hoping to see Ash Matts there. Ash is this very beautiful androgynous girl who looks very masculine. I think I secretly have a crush on Ash as a role model. Not as a love interest. I didn’t see Ash there. So I went to leave.
Katy said that she should charge me the $5 cover because she didn’t when I came in there. I said I didn’t even get to see any strippers. I never went into “that” area. She said fine. That she should charge me a brown out ticket, but was like “whatever.” I told her that I missed her since she was no longer a barista at the coffee house. I told her that I thought we were friends, but we have never had one chance to hang out. She didn’t respond.
I was sad, so I left. I walked past a large bouncer guy in all black pants, shirt and tie with black shades. He had a very Blues Brothers, mafia look to him.
There were throngs of crowds outside. It was a rally/riot. There were clothing racks like it was a flea market. The people were protesting the strip club. A few spit on me. I was looking for the clothing rack that had my black jacket on it. The one that I wore when I arrived at the club. I couldn’t find it. I don’t recall if I had anything in my pockets.
The exit of the area lead to the port a john area of the Michigan Ren Fest. Somehow, I was now in Holly Michigan. Holly is very far from Lincoln Park. It is about an hour drive. I walked past the archery booths. I walked past the booths where you can throw tomatoes at a fool. The crowd was an early morning type. It wasn’t too crowded there yet. I started thinking about getting an apple dumpling to eat. I was walking that way. Trying to find the food booths.
Suddenly, I was driving in my car on the freeway. I was trying to find the exit to get home. Half of the freeway was blocked off. I started falling asleep driving. It was very dangerous. I was past the point of caring though, because I was so tired. Part of me thought that the asleep version of me would know how to drive home. I felt like I could trust that other version of myself.
Then I was day dreaming or sleep driving and having a dream about being at the gym. I was working out obsessively because I wanted to be attractive like Ash Matts. I was thinking about taking an ephedrine or some sort of easy to purchase speed. People were arguing about how I would give myself a heart attack with all of my other medications. I didn’t care in the dream. I was thinking that at least I could try to modify my body close to the ideal that I always wanted, even if it would kill me.
Then I woke up to my cat making herself comfortable on my legs.
I dreamnt that my little brother died. He was Christian Bale. I brought him back from the dead with witchcraft damning my soul forever so I could take a photo of him smiling for our mom.
Christian wouldn’t smile. He was a dick to me about being a half zombie. I yelled at him, “You have no idea what I have done to bring you back!”
He didn’t remember how to unbutton shirts. I had to do it for him.
All I wanted was one good photo of him to make my dream mom smile. Is that asking too much?
Deep cough in my lungs.
Ran out of meds.
$2800 USD in debt.
$200 short for rent/mortgage due yesterday.
Eating food out of cans and stale bread.
1/2 tank of gas in the car.
47 hour work week, still not enough to live on.
Pretend the problems above don’t exist.
Met someone that likes me.
Consuming 400mg of a fourth-generation synthetic fluoroquinolone antibacterial agent. The chances were it would either help or hinder.
My heart races every time I consume.
My favorite serious adverse effects that may occur:
- irreversible peripheral neuropathy
- spontaneous tendon rupture and tendonitis
- acute liver failure or serious liver injury
- toxic epidermal necrolysis
- photosensitivity/phototoxicity reactions
- psychotic reactions
My cousin Pamela was very pale. She is 33 in the dream, tall, lithe, alabaster skin, strawberry blonde hair.
I found her slumped over in the warehouse. We must be in Detroit. She was bleeding from her shoulder on her white torn t-shirt over her black leather pants and goth platform boots.
I looked at the shoulder.
"It was good. I loved it," she gasped as she gestured toward the wound on her shoulder. It was a fresh scar wound, but it was too deep.
"I need to get you some help."
I leaned her against a large cardboard box on a pallet as she passed out. She sat slumped against it like a marionette with it’s strings cut.
I need help, but I’m not sure where to go. I can’t alert the authorities. They will lock her up in a mental hospital.