For some reason, I don’t want Neil Gaiman to be the dude who, post-apparently-reasonable-and-well-handled divorce from his (age-appropriate, I am thinking?) wife, got engaged to a much younger pop singer who makes my skin fucking crawl for any number of reasons, up to and including the fact that her albums are like the apotheosis of that attention-craving let’s-make-my-eyebrows-look-fucked-up former-theater-dork quasi-Goth thing I loathe with such infinite passion, and her personality, if possible, is EVEN MORE GRATING. I don’t want to see pictures of Neil Gaiman on a red carpet next to a twenty-something in a “daringly” transparent dress and be like, oh, yeah, that’s your thing now. I don’t want to read mean quotes in the New Yorker about how his fan base is composed of faux-bisexual twee Goth drama majors and be unable to refute them because, DUH, LOOK AT WHO HE IS DATING. Is that so wrong?
This edition of Is Your D-List Celebrity Relationship Good Enough has been brought to you by the fact that I am, despite all efforts, still somewhat of a terrible person.
That’s very funny, I have to say, BUT! important point: Amanda Palmer is thirtysomething.
(Not so into her music - it strikes me as something I would’ve loved when I was in high school and a drama dork, and not for nothing was she working with my high school hero Ben Folds - but I do find her drive/ambition to be admirable. I can definitely see the grating thing, sure, but I have to admit her blogging has endeared her to me. Although I worry about how much time she has to spend online to sustain a career/financial flow? Because I don’t think that’s sustainable for many good artists. Also: she lived in the most magical place in Boston ever. A gorgeous brownstone all tricked out by artists.)