Get your girlfriend tacos. A lot of tacos. Like, not just, you know, tacos plural, two. I’m saying dozens. Dozens of tacos. Pre-made, even. I don’t know, you can freeze them. Save them for later. That’s what I do. Tacos.
Some friendly Valentine’s Day advice. Happy Valentine’s, followers!
The thing about life that dissatisfies me that most is that the human brain comprehends time in a singularly linear way. I mean really, it’s completely unfair that when I meet a person I can only know them from that point onward. It should be possible that when you have intimate knowledge of the molecular alignment of a person, their entire timeline unfolds before you. I want to know every way the people I love have ever been. Loving a fellow human being is simultaneously mourning every second of them lost to you by the rigid forward-moving construct of the human experience. Maybe I’ll take up meditation in an attempt to collapse the part of my brain keeping me from that. If Heaven were a thing, I’d like to imagine it as total immersion into the honest being of those you love and adore most. A humming buzzing essence.
