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We looked inside some of the posts by onealjonathan-blog and here's what we found interesting.
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39K
Likes Per Post
19K
Reblog Per Post
20K
Reply Per Post
0
Time Between Posts
25 days
Number of Posts By Type
Audio
3
Text
7
Photo
6
Note
1
Last Seen Tumblr Blogs
Fun Fact
Tumblr Inc. is funded by 13 investors.
Audio
(GUTTR)
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At a certain point, you have to wonder what it is you’re fighting for.
Was it worth it?
Would you do it all the same again?
These kinds of questions are easy to answer, and even easier to lie about.
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ANGER HANGOVER
The other day I was mad. I was mad and I yelled and then I felt like shit. I yelled things that were true. I yelled things that came out wrong.
I yelled things that mattered.
And two hours later I was mad that I yelled. I was mad that I was mad. I was mad that I couldn’t push this down. I was mad that I couldn’t rise above.
I was mad that I can’t get really mad.
I was angry I couldn’t not see the other side. I was angry that another point of view was presented. I was angry the other point of view made sense. I was angry that I was betraying myself.
I was angry my things didn’t matter anymore.
I was upset my anger wasn’t a righteous sword; it was a wave breaking against the shore. I was upset my anger didn’t feel good; the way I thought it should.
Maybe I can’t stay angry because I’m wrong. Maybe what I was upset about was stupid. Maybe I could have handled things better. Maybe this repetition thing is getting old.
The next day I looked in the mirror and reminded myself “I’m stuck in this skin” Then I watched an episode of Futurama and thought “For Now”
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Most Recent Top Songs
Jamie xx - All Under One Roof Raving (like an academic piece you could shuffle to) Run The Jewels - the whole damn RTJ2 album (why are you reading this when you could be listening to this) Lupe Fiasco - Mural (more bars on one song than Iggy Azalea's whole album (guessing)) Purity Ring - Flood on The Floor (Purity Ring reminds people why their Shrines album was like the sound of 2013 even though it came out in 2012) Drake - Energy (I couldn't believe it either, but this track is pretty crazy) Every Time I Die - Idiot (how Keith Buckley still pulls this off after 10+ years of touring is beyond me)
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watch us go
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Return to Form: #1
Awhile ago I used to set a ten minute timer and just write about shit and sometimes it comes out mopey or depressing but it was pretty necessary and I’ve sort of let my writing blog fall off recently and I need to get back on that.
Recently things have been going sideways. I haven't always been a person that knows what he wants but I’ve always figured out a way to get it. But now it seems like I’ve had a polarity switch; now I know what I want but it’s a carrot on a stick. The harder I run the closer it seems. Nothing really world-ending has happened, but my inability to get out of my own way is starting to get on my nerves. I hate that it takes me thirty dollars to get drunk while my friends get wasted off of two Karbachs and a lemon drop. I hate that it’s getting harder to see colors the way I used to and now everything is just a bunch of random letters and numbers.
#0101DF is blue.
#000000 is black. So is #071019.
There was a point to that but honestly it doesn't matter and that what I hate the most. The points don’t matter to me anymore. It used to mean something to be right but it now seems like everyone would rather be happy than right and I want that too. I’d rather write than be happy. I swear.
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“Honestly, it’s amazing that the two of you didn’t kill each other a long time ago. I’m only gave you guys six months. Lost a bet.”
The rusty pickup truck hits a pothole in the middle of the dirt road. The woman’s head bounces off of the upholstered ceiling. Bits of foam and dust sprinkle her light blond hair. The driver’s lip twitches, causing a bit of tobacco scented dribble to pool in the corner of his mouth.
“I mean, we always figured him to be one of those boys who found himself a girl who couldn’t find anyone else. He wasn’t too bright, he wasn’t good-looking neither. He was just one of them kind-hearted boys with a man’s temper. Can’t fault him for that.”
The gray pickup truck hits another pothole, this time having to swerve to do so. The truck is very familiar with these country roads. So is the driver. Her head bounces off of the ceiling again. A bruise is beginning to form. An impression of the top of her head is starting to form in the foam lining of the roof. The driver would have to take care of that later.
“Still, you knew what he was and who he was and we knew what you was and what you wasn’t. We tried telling the boy but honestly, you had that boy so under your thumb I’d imagine that if you told him to jump he wouldn’t say shit. He’d just start jumping tell you told him to stop or he fell over.”
The worn tires on the truck began to whine as the driver drove off the road. Another pothole was coming up and he didn’t want to leave her wanting. This pothole was a large one, so large it sent her up into the air when the front tires hit and bounced her twice against the roof when the back tires hit. The driver heard a loud crack; Amber slumped over onto the driver. A mixture of her sweat and his whiskey caused her hair to stick to his unshaven jaw.
“Distasteful, you know? This whole business, I know. But it isn’t like you really gave us much of an option. You have your side and these laws and I’ve seen them at work. I’ve seen it before. You’ll make a fuss about how he hit you once and how he enjoyed the bottle and suddenly what you did with that iron was just you trying to save yourself. Bobby was rough but honest. And I know if you wanted to go I know he wouldn’t have stopped you. You dug a hole where there didn’t need to be one.”
Amber began to moan. That’s all she could do. The sock the driver found in the bed of his truck didn’t allow her to do much else. She looked at the driver, who looked like a leaner version of his brother and their father before them. “My mother gave me so much shit about you. Did I ever tell you that? You know, he was her favorite, no disputing that. He was always a little pudgy, that kept him from looking too much like our father. You know I couldn’t do much about it. I had that rat-bastards face and body. One night I was downstairs and looking in the fridge for a tall boy I thought I had. It was around when it stops being late and starts being early. She crept up behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist. She had the whiskey about her, and she said ‘I always knew you’d come back and save me from these bastards.’ I turned around, and she saw it was me and she beat me something fierce. All I did was look like him. All I’m ever trying to do is not look like him to her. But that’s all she sees. She looks at me and sees him. She looks at Bobby and sees hope. Saw hope. She don’t see much anymore.”
The road ended, and the truck stopped. The driver shifted into neutral, and got out. The driver pulled her out through the driver’s side door and walked over to the ledge. It wasn’t particularly high up, only about forty-five feet. It was enough.
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People should know where their EDM comes from.
an important map of my youth
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ESPN IS GETTING DEEP
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Someone a Chick-Fil A loves me
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new purity ring such wow
Purity Ring | Begin Again
you be the moon I’ll be the earth and when we burst, start over. Oh darling, begin again.
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If you need to post pictures of a guy sitting on a cloud six times a day to feel like a good Christian than you probably aren't one. If you feel the need to judge others for their lifestyle, follow these simple steps: 1. Find the tallest building in your city. 2. Stand on the roof 3. Figure out the fastest way to the ground floor.
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Hey! Do you have ableton and/or any VSTs? Also what kind of music are you into? It'd actually be really fun to produce with someone
I have ableton and some M4L and some Native Instruments stuff. Also I have some stuff on soundcloud, www.soundcloud.com/paperchoirDo you have a soundcloud?
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I really hate it when I hear someone being told that they can’t do something. There’s power in words and if I didn’t believe in anything else I believe in that. I’m not suggesting that everyone just blindly support every hair-brained scheme that their friends come up with, but if someone is passionate, truly passionate about something then the last thing you should do is bring them down.
There are not enough passionate people in the world. For better or worse, we have created a society of worker bees, content with slaving away until they’ve stuck their stinger somewhere it doesn’t belong.
There aren't enough people left that give a fuck.
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