"separate the art from the artist" works when the artist is dead or otherwise not profiting from the consumption of their work. it does not work in cases like roman polanski’s, woody allen’s, or bryan singer’s because they are all STILL ACTIVE and STILL VICTIMIZING PEOPLE.
sharing an umbrella with someone seems cute but in practice it is 100% horrible and you both end up getting angry and wet
I promise to love you:
at 6am when you’re waking to go to work, to school, or whatever road life takes you on, and when you didn’t sleep well, your hair is a mess, and your eyes are sleepy.
at 8am when we say goodbye for the day and you’re rushing out the door with a cup of tea and your car keys in the other hand.
at 5pm when you’re exhausted from the day and people have worn you out and you feel like crying, and falling asleep and escaping from everything. I will kiss your forehead, and wrap myself in your arms.
at 10pm when you’re heading to bed, even though you won’t sleep for hours. Especially when we become a human knot wrapped up in sheets and kisses.
at 3am when loneliness and sadness do not destroy you, but consume you and when you weep without an explanation, I’ll kiss your lips softly and tell you you’re the absolute best and that things will be better soon
I will love you when you grow old, and I will love you after that. I will love you if I’m no longer here. I will love you, I will love you, and I will love you.
florida is a godless place. I went there once, got in the ocean, and immediately had to evacuate because a bull shark was swimming right towards me. there was an alligator on the side of the freeway. meth addicts and men on tractors roam free. florida is america’s australia