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My roommate is google searching images from Lars Von Trier’s “The House That Jack Built,” pointing emphatically at Matt Dillon as the titular character, a prolific serial killer, and shouting “this bitch is Jack-made!” I have at points in my life been “the crazy bitch whisperer”… I think I’m maybe just into the high risk, under the cover of darkness, we cant be found out, there’s something deeply wrong with all this VIBE… not always, this kind of thing usually runs parallel with other self-destructive behaviors and periods in which I am simply not doing too hot! Said roommate also shouted at me recently, “yo she’s James Spader-made as fuck!”
Jan 7, 2024
Related Recs
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In 2014 I went with my buddy and my girlfriend of the time (now best friend) to see Danny Brown. I hadn’t slept the night before, and we were in a bit of a low key tweaker phase, fitting for seeing the self described Adderall Admiral, and I think between me and GF we honked up easily 300mg of adderall and drank a 12 pack and a pint, before the show. The show was so fucking lit. He passed blunts around the crowd the whole time, it ripped, my heart rate was like a Venetian Snares song, I wanted to swallow the crowd with the force of my body. Later me and girlfriend had a horrendous fight that kept going on in cycles all night in the hotel room that we shared between the three of us. We were too drunk to consistently remember what it was we were fighting about, and my homegirl in the other bed had to keep getting up and running interference, deftly explaining to each of us what we as well as the other person are doing wrong, probably less out of pure kindness and more out of at least a bit of rational calculation like “if I can socially engineer the fighting out of these two fuckheads I love but can’t stand right now, I can finally sleep.” The girlfriend and I probably broke up with each other ten times throughout the night. We slept gloriously eventually and the next day in New York was beautiful and it was truly as though nothing ever happened even though three times she tried to “take a bath” in a hotel shower that was not remotely a bathtub.
Five years later I’m in grad school dating a tiny smokeshow gothy hipster nerd stripper — I don’t know how I managed it ever, really, I was bald as fuck by then and a skinnyfat overstressed drunk — but it was fabulous, we didn’t have a whole lot in common background wise or anything but it was, for a while, a sublime dynamic. The show was Tommy Wright III, and like all ratchet-chic girls, she correctly loved the horror-tinged blown out grit of Memphis style rap. It was at the spot where I met the lady, a sort of quasi-speakeasy hole in the wall club in DC that doesn’t exist anymore, but where I’d ended up, alone in a new city on Halloween when I sidled up next to the alluring aforementioned, who chided me for not wearing a costume. “I live in a closet, I don’t have costume stuff, what are you?” “I’m a slut for Halloween,” she said, wry and earnest. I invited her to my closet of an $800/month room and she stayed for four straight days, smoking weed and reading manga while I put off the mountains of grown up homework I had. Anyway, like two weeks into dating this show comes up, and she wears basically the same little red silky Nothing shirt thing and I’m in a black beret and leather jacket and jump boots. They can’t tell that I’m not *actually* Cool, I assured myself. It had been months of total isolation and School, policy and philosophy, no culture no parties. Tommy’s set was short and a blast. After the show was the more memorable part. She wanted to talk to Tommy but at the same time, I was on a mission to the ATM several blocks away to purchase cocaine for us to inhale. I get back and they’re still talking, her and Tommy Wright, the legend, with the goofy perm hair still. Apparently he’d asked if she’d go with him to his truck and smoke a blunt and she told him no, she had a boyfriend — fuck, I could have hardly blamed her if she took him up on it. But then we hung out with Tommy, mellow and normal and tired seeming. Forgot to mention her friend was there too. Tommy politely declines doing coke with us. The three of us evacuate the baggy of terrible cocaine seemingly in one instant. Girlfriend’s friend wanted to fuck us both, she whispered to girlfriend. I declined.
Not sure this answers the prompt but it scratched an itch
4d ago
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i Am a proud fan of weird women!!!
Newest weird woman acquisition: the cute shy girl from my MBA program with a curly bob and red highlights.
Shes so quiet and shy, we’ve had every class together so far over 3 semesters and barely ever spoke aside from her saying happy Valentine’s Day to me in February. Fast forward to this semester I sit next to her first day of finance class and decide to Be friendly and chat. She’s quiet but cool so I get her number, offer to maybe study later in the semester (which is a mild courtesy as I was lowkey just gaining new allies in the class to assist with cheating).
But once I started texting her about class we just never stopped texting, and now I think we’re actively flirting? Shes into dark romance novels? she brought one of her novels to class yesterday and after class she snuggled up against me in the hallway and made me read a (very graphic) page about a girl getting fucked by a gun? This chick is nuts. Am I catching feelings?
Sep 17, 2024
every sentence here is a gem. shoutout to the schizophrenic nature of reality. I haven’t seen this movie so idk if Jason Horsley is being a salesman or if he’s really on one. In fact I just learned about mothman last night from a woman ive been talking to for like a week. She’s kind of mysterious and is into Russian lit. Can’t tell if she fw me at all which is only deepening my crush. Happy Valentine’s Day eve ❤️
Feb 14, 2025
Top Recs from @matthewallan
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It was 4AM and I was in the home of two complete strangers, a French Canadian couple I’d met at a bar earlier that night. Initially I thought maybe they were angling for some sick sex experiment to spice up their marriage but it turns out they just wanted someone to do cocaine and talk Israel-Palestine with. I was only interested in one of those things though. I was about to go home but made one request before I left. I asked kindly if the man in capri pants, drinking a red stripe with his feet up and playing edm from a Bluetooth speaker connected to his phone would put on one song for me, Madonna’s “What It Feels Like for a Girl.” He shrugged and put it on and they went back to talking about how Israel was actually super fun or whatever and I quietly got up and started dancing. This must have surprised them because pretty soon they stopped talking and watched with horror forming on their faces. The song ended and I asked for a cigarette for the road. As far as I was concerned these people hadn’t done enough for me. Free cocaine and cigarettes were the least they could do considering the show I’d just put on for them. I don’t remember exactly how I got home, no train route from that neighborhood to mine that would make sense and no record of an Uber, but I made it home nonetheless and awoke the next day in my bed feeling pretty stupid about the whole ordeal. Nights like that make me sad, make me feel irresponsible and reckless, like I need to value my life more. I was feeling regretful and somber, I had a slight headache and if I wanted to I could cry on command, so I was in the ideal state to be seeing Mark Kozelek (red house painters, sun kil moon), one of my absolute heroes, that night at the Roxy.
Jan 15, 2024
Woke up next to someone this morning, went to my computer to put on some music and when I opened it up it was just this pic of Lars Von Trier and she looked aghast and said … “who is that?”
Jan 8, 2024
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Because you love him.
Jan 16, 2024