☆

[kosmogrl]

september was practice… in october I’m getting my shit together

[kosmogrl]

in november I'm getting my shit together

[kosmogrl]

in december I’m getting my shit together

[everythingfrank0cean]

What does Frank mean by having a Pilot Jones?

Track 8: Pilot Jones

PILOT JONES is another one of my personal favorites. It has a smooth and sexy vibe to it, similar to SIERRA LEONE.  Frank Ocean starts it off by speaking and graduating into falsettos, telling the story of how he was in love with a woman addicted to drugs. The two lovers started out with plenty of things in common. But now, the woman he sings about is only and constantly searching for highs; he won’t get high with her any more. [“We once had things in common/…/You’re out there flying high/Go head, fly that thing/…/But fly alone”].  Although this woman is clearly and deeply addicted to the sale and use of drugs, Frank Ocean continues trying to make her sober [“I just don’t know why I keep on trying to keep a grown woman sober”], but regardless of his failure he will continue to love her. She’s addicted to drugs, but he’s addicted to her. “You’re the dealer and the stoner, with the sweetest kiss around.”

[frankocean]

Visit Original Link

[frankocean]

THESE BITCHES WANT NIKES. THEY LOOKING FOR A CHECK. I TELL EM IT AIN’T LIKELY. SAID SHE NEED A RING LIKE CARMELO. MUST BE ON THAT WHITE LIKE OTHELLO. ALL YOU WANT IS NIKES.  BUT THE REAL ONES.  JUST LIKE YOU.  JUST LIKE ME.  I DON’T PLAY, I DONT MAKE TIME.  BUT IF YOU NEED DICK I GOT YOU AND I YAM FROM THE LINE.  POUR UP FOR A$AP. RIP PIMP C. RIP TRAYVON, THAT NIGGA LOOK JUST LIKE ME.  WOOO, FUCCKKINN BUZZINNN WOOOO. THAT MY LIL COUSIN, HE GOT A LIL TRADE. HIS GIRL KEEP THE SCALES, A LIL MERMAID.  WE OUT BY THE POOL SOME LIL MERMAIDS. ME AND THEM GEL, LIKE TWIGS WIT DEM BANGS. NOW THAT’S A REAL MERMAID. YOU BEEN HOLDING YOUR BREATH. WEIGHTED DOWN.  PUNK MADRE, PUNK PAPA.  HE DON’T CARE FOR ME, BUT HE CARES FOR ME.  AND THAT’S GOOD ENOUGH.  WE DON’T TALK MUCH OR NOTHING. BUT WHEN WE TALKING BOUT SOMETHING, WE HAVE GOOD DISCUSSION.  I MET HIS FRIENDS LAST WEEK. FEELS LIKE THEY’RE UP TO SOMETHING.  THAT’S GOOD FOR US.  WE’LL LET YOU GUYS PROPHESY. WE’LL LET YOU GUYS PROPHESY. WE GON SEE THE FUTURE FIRST.  WE’LL LET YOU GUYS PROPHESY.  WE GON SEE THE FUTURE FIRST.  LIVING SO THE LAST NIGHT, FEELS LIKE A PAST LIFE.  SPEAKING OF THE DON’T KNOW WHAT GOT INTO PEOPLE, DEVIL BE POSSESSING HOMIES DEMONS TRY TO BODY JUMP.  WHY YOU THINK I’M IN THIS BITCH WEARING A FUCKING YARMULKE.  ACID ON ME LIKE THE RAIN.  WEED CRUMBLES INTO GLITTER.  RAIN. GLITTER.  WE LAID OUT ON THIS WET FLOOR.  AWAY TURF, NO ASTRO.  MESMERIZED HOW THE STROBES GLOW, LOOK AT ALL THE PEOPLE FEET DANCE.  I KNOW THAT YOUR NIGGA CAME WITCHA.  BUT HE AIN’T WITCHA.  WE ONLY HUMAN AND IT’S HUMID IN THESE BALMAINS.  I MEAN MY BALLS STICKING TO MY JEANS.  WE BREATHING PHEROMONES, AMBER ROSE.  SIPPING PINK GOLD LEMONADES. FEELING.  I MAY BE YOUNGER, BUT I’LL LOOK AFTER YOU.  WE’RE NOT IN LOVE BUT I’LL , MAKE LOVE TO YOU.  WHEN YOU’RE NOT HERE, I’LL SAVE SOME FOR YOU.  I’M NOT HIM, BUT I’LL MEAN SOMETHING TO YOU.  I’LL MEAN SOMETHING TO YOU.

[typewriter-worries]

being normal about these

[fishparasite]

you will live and you will say the wrong things and make mistakes and people will love you anyways.

[softestaura]

Miss Sohee SS24 Haute Couture

[imcuteforever-deactivated202605]

logging on

[cann1bal-kitt3n-x]

[kosmogrl]

[softestaura]

cindy kimberly in di petsa

[metamorphesque]

What the Living Do, Marie Howe

[cloudbeam]

Written for her brother, John Howe, who died of complications of AIDS

[itsgonnabeanofrommedawg]

full poem:

Johnny, the kitchen sink has been clogged for days, some utensil probably fell down there. And the Drano won’t work but smells dangerous, and the crusty dishes have piled up

waiting for the plumber I still haven’t called. This is the everyday we spoke of. It’s winter again: the sky’s a deep, headstrong blue, and the sunlight pours through

the open living-room windows because the heat’s on too high in here and I can’t turn it off. For weeks now, driving, or dropping a bag of groceries in the street, the bag breaking,

I’ve been thinking: This is what the living do. And yesterday, hurrying along those wobbly bricks in the Cambridge sidewalk, spilling my coffee down my wrist and sleeve,

I thought it again, and again later, when buying a hairbrush: This is it. Parking. Slamming the car door shut in the cold. What you called that yearning.

What you finally gave up. We want the spring to come and the winter to pass. We want whoever to call or not call, a letter, a kiss—we want more and more and then more of it.

But there are moments, walking, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the window glass, say, the window of the corner video store, and I’m gripped by a cherishing so deep

for my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that I’m speechless: I am living. I remember you.

[bleedingthroughteeth]

The prettiest cakes ever!

Via aprilbakerlondon

[bleedingthroughteeth]

The prettiest cakes ever!

Via aprilbakerlondon

[untiloblivions]

thinking about “you haven’t met all the people who will love you” and like!!! you also haven’t found all the things that will make you happy!!!! there will always be new authors and musicians and artists whose work you will one day discover and love!!!! there will always be new hobbies and skills for you to learn and feel fulfilled by!!! there will always be new things around the corner that will bring sudden and unexpected happiness!!!!!!!!!!!

[recomvery]

Not every day has to count. Some days are for repairing, resting, mourning. You don't have to perform every day. Some days are for doing nothing. For sleeping all day or being on your phone. Relaxing is ok, allowed and encouraged. Do what you need to do.

[canelascent-deactivated20260208]

phalaenopsis sanderiana