Four lines inscribed on your forehead: ─, ─, ─, |, 王. Hey, are you Simba? Your soaring trajectory is smeared into the lines of your face. You're a big angry cat! Awww! You appear in the dazzling autumnal phases of deciduous trees. People look at you and exclaim, Wow, So pretty! But if they touch you they might catch third-degree burns, or a puncture wound. The embodiment of a flame, and a capable hunter. If you can crush them in your jaws, they're not worthy of your friendship. Wait, that's everyone. Well, avoid the snake and the monkey. They're wily little shits.


While Asian participation in hip hop may challenge Asian stereotypes by allowing us to take on the masculine aggressiveness of the Tiger, it is also linked to--but often fails to acknowledge ─ the fraught dynamic between black and Asian people in the US. What does it all mean? I dunno! I don't have the answers! ─ zo

the safe bet [AUTOPLAY]

my parents, especially my not-quite-tiger mother, always mean well when they tell me to distrust the world and believe in them. they exalt cruel reality and bitter disappointments as these phantom truths, hanging over the heads of other "artistic"-leaning children, whose parents have neither the foresight nor the commendable candor that they do. this is how it is ─ over and over again. this is what i wish i could tell them. ─ min