A: He lit a cigarette. His glass of whiskey lit a cigarette too. “I can only truly love my best friend,” he said, “but not in a gay way. Women wouldn’t understand it. They’re too gay.” Both of the cigarettes agreed.
click the link
source for the thing I reblogged earlier!
NEVER OVER “The terrible sex had made him feel deeply interesting, like a murder victim.”
OH MY GOD SERIOUSLY CLICK THE LINK
This is one instance where you should read the comments. It just gets better!
“The cocaine isn’t the point. The cocaine is a metaphor,” he explained wearily over the pile of cocaine. She folded her arms. She didn’t understand his cocaine. “Didn’t you read my manifesto?” The prostitute had read his manifesto. Why couldn’t she?
It’s hit me that very soon I will be seeing Jeff Mangum bellow his beautiful enormous heart out right in front of me, and that it will be in Prague, of all places… I just don’t know how to process that. It seems foreign and ideal enough to be alien, the stuff of dreams and only dreams, fuck. If nothing else comes of this year but that hour and a half of watching him perform, I’ll be ok.
(ALSO: goulash and getting sloshed in town squares in the sunshine. singing along to favourite songs by the national in a packed piazza. discovering new museums and new favourite artists and new loves. talking to interesting people about interesting things. beautiful buildings that render you speechless, breathless. VITAMIN D.)
greet someone by saying “Hello (name), this is odd…” while looking out into the distance
even if you had been planning to meet them all along
you’ll both be transported into a mystery novel!
+12 intrigue points
This isn’t life. I’ll wake up soon.