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“As I researched sleep, I found that we sleep in intervals. The REM intervals loop several times a night. Each loop is about 90 minutes long. It is the same running time as an average feature film. So maybe the running time of films fulfills our subconscious needs? Therefore, entering a movie theatre is not unlike entering a dream. Films hypnotise us and take us to new worlds. Sleeping and films are like twin realities.” — Apichatpong Weerasethakul, from a behind-the-scenes featurette on Cemetery of Splendour (2015)

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It's Glenn

This is the lucky clover cat. reblog this in 30 seconds & he will bring u good luck and fortune.

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Well, let it pass, he thought; April is over, April is over. There are all kinds of love in the world, but never the same love twice.

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You try every trick in the book to keep her. You write her letters. You drive her to work. You quote Neruda. You compose a mass e-mail disowning all your sucias. You block their e-mails. You change your phone number. You stop drinking. You stop smoking. You claim you’re a sex addict and start attending meetings. You blame your father. You blame your mother. You blame the patriarchy. You blame Santo Domingo. You find a therapist. You cancel your Facebook. You give her the passwords to all your e-mail accounts. You start taking salsa classes, like you always swore you would, so that the two of you can dance together. You claim that you were sick, you claim that you were weak. And every hour, like clockwork, you say that you’re so so sorry. You try it all, but one day she simply sits up in bed and says, No more, and, Ya, and asks you to move from the Harlem apartment that you two share when you’re not teaching in Boston. You consider not going. You consider a squat protest. In fact, you say you won’t go. But, in the end, you do.

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Platonic love is not a runner up to romantic love. Platonic love isn’t second place. Platonic love isn’t less real, less valid or less powerful than romantic love. Don’t let your platonic love take a back seat to romantic love.

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Richard Brautigan, “Passing to Where?”

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Someone Venmo me rosé.

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I remember a young woman at Union Square, how she had been planning to buy a book for her boyfriend but then spotted him at the head of the line holding hands with another girl. Will you still sign a book for him? she asked, tears in her eyes. Tell him he’ll never see me again.

Junot Diaz, recalling a story from one of his book tours (via irisblasi)

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Things i tried to do to get rid of depression #1

Inspired by solange

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Vicky Cristina Barcelona (2008)

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saudade

tonight i went to a bar where you make things and get cheap cigarettes 

I don’t smoke so I made a ring instead 

I hammered the letters into the metal until it read

SAUDADE

it means...a longing for something that you will never feel again

like nostalgia but more terrible 

because you cant go back

it fits perfectly on my ring finger 

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me & Glenn

Woman Reading, 1970, Will Barnet

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The Sopranos

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me: *gets my check and is about to hit that ‘submit order’ on a cart full of clothes*

*beyoncé’s voice echoing in my head* she too smart to crave material things

me: