Tyler: Most people think that since he sings,he's the more mature one,that he wouldn't really fuck with a bunch of dumb young niggas and shit.
Interviewer: Is he older than y'all?
Tyler: Yeah. He's the wise one. He does old nigga shit, like,eatin yogurt,and bread.
Domo: Yogurt ain't that old.
Tyler: Fine like oatmeal. The one with no flavor though.
Domo: Yeah that's old nigga shit.
Tyler: And Frank might kill me for this,but, that nigga eats Pop-Tarts with no icing
Domo: That shit's like a Bread-Tart
Tyler: It's like bread with fruit. Like that nigga put an apple with bread and ate it.
Domo: Where does he find that. He orders that shit off the internet.
The sky is changing. Constantly. As if it was never satisfied with it’s design, it’s color, the shape and texture of the clouds. Like a writer who is never satisfied with his sentences, words and ideas. Throwing away more and more crumpled paper, building a pile of lost and littered ideas. But sometimes it is worth to break out of this circle and pause for a moment, to dwell and reflect on rejected plans to build something new. My goal is to invite the viewer of my work to linger, to calm down and maybe to contemplate. Maybe I can achieve this with the coalescence of these two ingredients: Papersky.”
So no one wants to hang out again. Cool.
For once can I not get yelled at for something that happened like 3 years ago? Like holy shit do you really hold on to things that long?
I don’t know what classes to take this semester and I have to register tomorrow. What should I taaaaake???
Sometimes I randomly remember stuff throughout high school, and then I think about shooting myself in the face.