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Exploring Love With Jordan Stephens - Notion

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In his new EP, Stephens explores love and dismantles hyper-masculinity.

WMD

What is normal though? Not struggling?

The absence of struggle is one of the most bizarre scenarios I can think of.

If normality is cuddling into a beige custard of unconscious comfort then feed me oddity.

Let me normalise bitterness and better my sweet.

I don’t go to the gym to lift air

I don’t read books to finish them

I don’t wash to waste water

And most importantly

I don’t feel bad for no reason

We do not listen to violent voices

They do not belong to us

They are reflections of mirrors broken by neglect

Instead, we understand that each piece

Is part of a much bigger picture

One that doesn’t shatter

An understanding that our struggles

direct us towards unity

They connect us in ways more human

than normality

Your voice is the one that’s willing

Your voice is the one that wants to give

There’s no real existence without struggle

and the more that we embrace that

The less we’ll struggle to exist

There’s no rush

There’s no pressure

There’s no perfect

We’re all weird.

YourMoon

I’ve always been the sun

Especially to my mum

Do you know what I mean?

The centre of the universe

A provider of brightness

Raised up thinking

my rays would sink in

To all those who I meet

Warm them up

Make them want me

A brief holiday

To be admired in retrospect

Do you guys remember that time?

But in the same way

I don’t want to make you blind

I have a shadow reminiscent

Of an eclipse

I’m not trying to eclipse you

I don’t want to battle you for the sky

So why am I so desperate

to be magnified?

And cause fires?

Appear higher?

Because of course,

You enable my presence to feel lighter

There was a time

when I didn’t even want to sleep

Too distrusting

To even count on sheep

But now I think I now what you mean

It’s ok to be assured of my dreams

And be your night time

The moon is still bright

And easier to hug

And silently reassures the sun

That it’s seen.

Taken on my iPhone last year. Lil bubba

For Issa...

I lost you in the clouds once

Crowded by a thousand silver linings

Both of our ears were burning

Black phone screens pressed

A few words at best

I tiptoed and scanned

But couldn’t see you

Too many characters and narratives

It was overcast

I cast another hoping glance

I felt the makings of a storm

Thunder on account of bad reception

Rumbles of a missed connection

Maybe I was never going to find you

This festival is massive

Felt like I’d blown my chances

Even if you stood against the wind

And then a crowd parted

And your hand spread out

five fingers, a golden pentacle

Waving sunshine

You became clear

And that shadow of doubt was cast behind me

You are joy

And I’m happy

For Alex...

Have you heard of Hotfoot?

“Slow and steady wins the race”

They used to say to her.

“Take your time”

“Good things come to those who wait!”

Hotfoot didn’t believe any of it.

By the time she hit 25 she had done everything.

Absolutely everything.

She had beaten all the tortoises as well as all the hares.

She’d had every feeling and sensation

Seen the best and worst of herself

Accepted it -

Found love, fallen out of love

Made millions - given it all away

and now through pure speed, desire and spirit has transcend into another dimension devoid of language or really the need to communicate where her and a handful of other hotfoots exist in a continuous state of bliss and all their haters are getting parking fines

For Randy...

Four shots of coffee in the morning

One for each wheel

One for each season

One for each personality

He could not start his day without an awakening comparable to New Year’s Eve,

and indeed he found a sharpened resolution.

Fireworks behind his eyes celebrated his daily escape from the jaws of sleep

He emerged victorious in his battle against blurriness

Coffee cup held high, he toasts the air and readies the daily grind

“Here we go!”

The man exclaimed before knocking back his jet black fuel.

“Who are you talking to?”

Said the person beside him.

“All of them!” He said.

For Ross

Hope is like water

Without you’ll die but you can also drown in it.

A big old cup of hope is wonderful

as long you remember that you have to pee and that will probably inconvenience you

Have a swim in hope, but don’t lay there

Don’t float around on past memories

that didn’t turn out

how you would have watered them too

We’ve all got to burn

We’ve all got to walk into the fire of acceptance at some point

And it’s only at that point

when your skin is dry and heart combusting

when red feels no different to blue

when pain almost becomes an afterthought

That you’ll really want to take another dip.

But this time, that hope will feel cold.

The best kind of cold ever.

Shelf Doubt

The pain of not quite being good enough tickles my blood cells more often than I pat myself on the back. Even patting myself on the back would feel more like self harm than congratulations. Sunny days tend to shine a light into these corners but they come back. They always do. Shadows shaped into taboo telling me that my mood is a result of my footing. That my past errors have lead me to this point. In spite of signs telling me that I’m the right place. What a joy that would be. To see a sign simply saying that “I’m in the right place”. I think that’s my dream. In my dreams I’m in utter darkness. Not darkness like after a moment my pupils tune into the memory of daytime, darkness like stepping forwards or backwards both feel like falling over. A darkness where laying down and standing up are exactly the same thing. That absence of light is more often felt than seen. It’s a state of mind. In this dream I feel so nonexistent that I want to disappear. I feel so abandoned that I want to leave. No one’s there and screaming would be a waste of breath. It’s difficult to know whether or not my eyes are shut. And at this point; when fear begins to really move me, I feel an object knock against my forehead. Cold metal or steal or something. It’s terrifying. I grab it and I pull it.

Click.

I’m in the middle of anywhere. Sun rays on my face feel like I’m just about to cum. An inescapable land mass of freedom. The sweet scent of possibility. Tears turned dried salt, I can see my limbs again. I know where to put them. Direction wants to help. I lift my head and see a sky blue. It’s not the sky though. It’s a blue painted onto the background of massive rectangular sign with emphatic white writing across it. The words are in a fancy font, all joined up and friendly. There are white arrows surrounding the phrase, pointing to it. It says

“You’re in the right place.”

And in that moment, smiling doesn’t quite do it.

Imagine if that came true.

Environmental Orbism

It’s all the same

Fear Bliss Love Hate

It’s all just part of a giant nothing

A giant nothing as small

As the tiniest darkest

Non existent

Point of everything

A constant dial

That spins

And restarts

And begins

and turns

And disappears

And begins

And everything that you said

And everything that you didn’t

Is there

In the middle of the wheel

That rotates around nothing

And creates everything

Only to become nothing again

The point at which I’m most scared

Most terrified

Is the point at which I’m most peaceful

The dot above the i

The little i

Is the extent of my being

The largest dot in the tiniest world

Where the biggest nothing

spins and slips

Into every idea

And around we go...

bacK

Good to have you back

They say

You seem taller

I arched my back

Last year

And that meant

That I was gone

Apparently

I’d gone away

When in fact I was at home

More than ever

When struggling

To be yourself

Does that have to mean

That you’re not there?

Imagine what my back will say

When it arches

Again

It’ll say

I can make you disappear

Without moving

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