Creepin on some father-daughter bonding at Ze Cloisters #cloisters #cute #garden (at The Cloisters)

Creepin on some father-daughter bonding at Ze Cloisters #cloisters #cute #garden (at The Cloisters)

Dream - 7.28.14

You invited me to go watch a movie. You texted me, out of the blue, something like, “Hey loser. Are you feeling better? Wanna go watch a movie?”

When I walked into the theater, you were already sitting next to someone. It instantly dawned on me that you had brought him along, the guy you’re seeing, without telling me. He’s tall and buff with nice hair. He sat in between us. He held onto your phone for some reason. He somehow knew your passcode too, because you granted him that access. He turned off both his phone and yours. I wanted to press his abdomen with my hand to feel if it was hard. I was sizing him up. He wasn’t skinny like me. He was darker-skinned. More “brown” in general. I wanted to talk to you, but he was in the way, and your attention was squarely on him. You looked gorgeous. 

When I left the theater, I got in a car with these two cancer patients who were grieving the untimely death of writer John Green. I actually had dinner with them earlier. One of them spent all their money on 7 cheeseburgers just for himself because he really thought he was dying tonight, so he wanted to go out with a bang by making his last meal epic. The other patient tried to convince him that he still had plenty of time left. Cheeseburger Patient, who looked like an adult version of Bean from Even Stevens, broke down into tears, because he really was dying. This was his last night on Earth. 

As the Cancer Guys and I drove out of the parking lot, it started to rain. I wanted our driver to follow you and the guy (he has a car), but the rain was too intense. We eventually lost sight of you guys. As we drove away, the dream became a vague, chaotic whirlwind of images, but at one point we reached a narrow one-way road winding up the side of a mountain. Out of nowhere, a car careered head-on towards us, but at the last possible second, the car swerved away and flew off the mountain. Despite this near-death trauma, Cheeseburger grimly joked about how ironic it would’ve been if that random car had killed him tonight, and not the cancer…

Feelings/Thoughts After Waking Up:
- Nervous, dread, sad, sick, cold
- Heart in stomach
- Trembling as I type this
- I have a problem/mental sickness
- ugh why did I call her last night and leave that voicemail? right, b/c I’m an emotional idiot 
- why are we like this now?
- who is he? is he even real?
- I’m afraid that you’re falling in love w/ him
- I’m afraid of occupying a smaller, more distant, less special role in your life
- I wish we could talk, without me breaking down into tears 
- so many articles suggest going out with friends to get over someone, which sucks because you were my best friend, my favorite person, the only person I ever really felt comfortable around…
- the John Green / cancer patient subplot obvs refers to Fault in our Stars, which we saw in theaters
- washed-up Even Stevens actor b/c you mentioned moving on from Disney Channel to ABC Family in that one dorky Facebook video message from high school you showed me(?)
- I’m a creep
- I’ve lost 10 fucking lbs since moving to NYC
- I need to stop feeling this way, b/c I just want to be your friend
- I wish I could see you before I leave… b/c I honestly don’t know if I’m coming back

You see, Wally, the trouble with always being active and doing things is that it’s quite possible to do all sorts of things and at the same time be completely dead inside. I mean, you’re doing all these things, but are you doing them because you really feel an impulse to do them, or are you doing them mechanically, as we were saying before? Because I do believe that if you’re just living mechanically, then you have to change your life. I mean, you know, when you’re young, you go out on dates all the time, you go dance or something, you’re floating free, and then one day you find yourself in a relationship, and suddenly everything freezes. And this can be true in your work as well. And I mean, as long as you’re really alive inside, then of course there’s no problem. I mean, you know, if you’re living with someone in one little room, and there’s a life going on between you and the person you’re living with, well then, you know, a whole adventure can be going on right in that room.
André Gregory, My Dinner with André (1981)
⚡️🐻⚡️#lookup #carebear #nyc

⚡️🐻⚡️#lookup #carebear #nyc

ON. REPEAT. Honestly, it had me at “feat. Sampha.”

Discovered through The Internet's awesome HYPETRAK summer mix, which is definitely worth listening to / leaving on in the background. :)

This Is How TV Works

I’m out on the balcony with my cousins at night. We pass around a lit joint; a tuneless game of hot potato.

Hot, harsh smoke rushes in, and in one hit I’m gone. This is an ordeal now. The night vibrates. 

I look inside through the sliding glass door: two of my cousin’s friends conversing on the couch.

I keep staring at them. They have no idea my eyes are glued to every lip movement, like HAL-9000 right before the intermission.

As I continue ogling, transfixed, I say to whoever’s listening: “This is how TV works…”

Fireworks through the eyes of a (motherfucking) drone = magical, life-affirming, mind-blowing, effervescent, amazing… all of the adjectives. I literally could not contain my giddiness while watching this. Just wow. 

This sentence has five words. Here are five more words. Five-word sentences are fine. But several together become monotonous. Listen to what is happening. The writing is getting boring. The sound of it drones. It’s like a stuck record. The ear demands some variety.

Now listen. I vary the sentence length, and I create music. Music. The writing sings. It has a pleasant rhythm, a lilt, a harmony. I use short sentences. And I use sentences of medium length. And sometimes, when I am certain the reader is rested, I will engage him with a sentence of considerable length, a sentence that burns with energy and builds with all the impetus of a crescendo, the roll of the drums, the crash of the cymbals–sounds that say listen to this, it is important.

Gary Provost (100 Ways to Improve Your Writing, 1985)

I’ve been listening to a lot of Blood Orange recently. This song’s chorus in particular hits close to home… the “you” being me.

These past few weeks have been emotionally draining, but revealing. It has prompted some serious self-reflection. I feel like my finger is always hovering over a self-destruct button, and as long it’s there, and I feel that temptation, and continue to give into it, I will never be happy. And it’ll drag me down, along with those who are in my orbit. 

I don’t want that. For me, or for anyone who cares about me. I need to erect a bulletproof glass case over that button, or somehow deactivate it by cutting all the wires connected to it. It’s a matter of always choosing what’s right over what’s easy. It’s a matter of deeply channeling compassion and empathy and respect, and fully fathoming how my actions will affect another person, which comes down to me stepping out of my shell. I can’t keep making amends for mistakes I shouldn’t be making. At my core, I am a selfish person who tries to be selfless, and maybe even a bad person, who tries to be good… but that’s just not good enough. 

Cupid Deluxe… what an album. Other highlights: “Chamakay" and "Time Will Tell.” Hope you enjoy. 

I briefly make an appearance in this short promo video as an extra! Aside from that, there’s also some disturbingly spot-on Darth Maul makeup action to marvel at, as well as some disturbingly bizarre extras dialogue that you (thankfully) can’t hear lol. But yeah, this was a fun little shoot to be a part of. Personally not that into Auralnauts' brand of comedy, but they are most definitely doing their thing, and I respect that. 

So I guess this means I’m now officially on my way to Internet stardom? If you want to reach me for booking inquiries, please contact my agent, because I’LL BE IN MY GODDAMN TRAILER *dramatic diva door-slam*. 

This is where I, Rahul Roy, occasionally LET IT OUT.

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