Dear Brave Souls: A beautiful songbird is gone. Whitney Houston, age 48, was found dead in her hotel room, the night before the Grammy Awards ceremonies. Some have already begun to demonize her, to play on her deterioration. Let us remember the gift she gave to us all… let us, as with many of our too soon gone artists, dancers, singers, musicians… “and… I… will always… love you.” God, listen to the purity of voice, the tremelo, the broken notes heartbreakingly beautiful. All your suffering is over now. Travel light, travel well Whitney… thank you for bringing so much of the Light to us.
and with love,
dr.e

I think, thanks to certain rumors, a lot of people are confused about what is true love. True love is the skeleton of bones that attach themselves to your fishing pole when you thought you’d caught the “big one”….you try to get it to go away, but it snags to your line and “follows” you all the way back to your house. True love lays starving, slumped in the corner of your living room, a bag of bones just staring at you. Waiting for you to realize that its hungry as fuck, so feed it your tears and put around it a coat or a blanket for God’s sake. For when you wake up in the morning, beside you is the flesh of the courage and bravery it takes to sleep a whole night with a skeleton.