Words of Jordan

My name is Jordan Kit and these are my words. Pick up a copy of my collection of poetry and short stories, Ignoring the Mistakes

[fypotpdi-blog]

A New Beginning

Hey y’all. Perhaps you’ve followed some of my past writing blogs such as Start Fresh, These Words, These Words, or more recently, At Home At Sea. Perhaps you’re a new friend. Any way you slice it, I’ve started this blog as a repository for my thoughts on running and beyond so as not to diverge too abruptly from my other tumblrs. I’ve lost over 50 pounds in the last year, and I’m just so much happier than I was before. I’m hoping to detail some of that journey through an improvement of both physical and mental health, the two being inextricable. Should you choose to follow me you can expect posts with the following bent: -Running (all flavors: trail, road, track, and beyond, and everything along with it) -The Great Outdoors (we have a beautiful planet, and if you’ve got it, flaunt it) -Writing Concerned with the above (okay, not too big a departure from the past) -Gratuitous Story Sharing My first post will be a basic race report from my first 50k, which I ran this last week, the Fool’s 50K put on by Western Reserve Racing, in the Cuyahoga Valley National Park in Ohio.

Thanks for joining me on this.

[juststartfresh]

Hey y’all, I’m starting a new blog that is more outdoorsy and fitnessy in addition to my writing, and I’m giving you the perfect out: If it doesn’t strike your fancy, then do nothing! If you can see this, I can’t express enough how thankful I am for your passing patronage over the years. This was my first tumblr, and I made so many friends, and shared so much work over the years, and it has been an excellent run. However, I’m in a very different headspace, and rather than spook a lot of good, decent folks off with the weird stuff I’ve been into recently, I’m going to move into my new format on a fresh tumblr, and give y’all the opportunity to join, or say “Boo! Hiss! Fuck that!” at your own discretion. Thanks again, you beautiful people. My new page: Find Your Place on the Planet, Dig in https://fypotpdi.tumblr.com/

[wordsofjordan]

The blood that contradicts

the full moon rises and some new evolutionary  development intervenes: we have forgotten that we are animal our basest faults, tied to our bones, the salty taste of our blood but restraint becomes the hallmark of a life so delicate and were we so human, that night we looked out over the bay and blue gave way to green yellow orange purple black and the dewy grass couldn't cool you down were we so human, in rationalizing but it was just a very basic response the primordial will to survive fearful of the variable

[wordsofjordan]

You could never truly  capture a sunset in a picture or remember the subtle twists and curves of particular clouds that gave contrast or find the words for that green that exists in the spaces between purple and orange but you can always remember the way it felt looking out over the rooftops forgetting anything but that precise moment you felt present and really in it there is no other, no self just bliss folding in

[wordsofjordan]

Thought #19

What a gift, what a crime to be alive at all. What a sordid mess we've all walked in on a happy accident in the dark best forgotten a note left behind: we were never here

[wordsofjordan]

Words from the bottom of the bottle

Don't you remember? The way the light played off the morning dew after we stayed up      all night talking about how it's all going to end The spaces in the conversation on all those hours long phone calls,      all the "still there?"s The tree on the ridge that bent to a real crook, that I thought I could      climb, but couldn't The night I ate mushrooms with Marty and was fearful of the pulsing      night sky throbbing above The taste of your red wine and my cigarettes folding together      in a hot moment The smell of the bonfire a few blocks down when you cried on the      front steps The hungry feeling after I got ripped off in Denver and we got to L.A.,      with $4 to spare, no safety net The lash of flames against your cheek when I burned my novel and the      whole damned can went up The quick flutter of the heart when you woke up, whisky worn off,      and felt the warm touch of my shoulder against yours The light sort of rain that fell the day you took a chance on a better man,      how it fell with more scent than substance I collect these moments like stones to carry toward some unknown destination, some place atop the hill, a backward sort of place where you still remember my name

[wordsofjordan]

I'm such a narrow fool

[wordsofjordan]

Getting my next batch of writing ready for Lillian and I started my fourth novel. Second extant novel.

[wordsofjordan]

Third night of no booze, third night of getting some writing done. Sure there's argument for causality in there.

[wordsofjordan]

I don't know what to say, but I'd like to announce that I'm deferring all my writing to Lillian. I trust her to do with it what she thinks right.

[wordsofjordan]

Line for later use

We carried the weight of the people we'd been like heavy stones. Sometimes openly, in our palms, sometimes hidden away in pockets. The weight was always there.  Only when we came together did we set our stones beside each other and marvel at how fine they looked together. I often wondered why we spent so long carrying these things that held us down like that.

[wordsofjordan]

He began to live much like a hermit and he'd spend all morning listening to Elliott Smith cooking an enormous breakfast convinced that it's a nice thing,

not a lonely thing,

and Fridays were walks uptown, with cigarettes from the pack he swore he threw away,

and Sunday morning was a brown bagged beer pulled from knapsack

drunk on the side of a hill,

wondering where all his bluebirds went

the clouds rolled by and the trees bent and swayed, both tossed by the same wind.

[wordsofjordan]

I just listened to the song for for the first time since it played in my bedroom when my mom came in to tell me that my grandmother passed away so many years ago. What a surreal moment. I just remember waking up and feeling that nothing at all was right. My mom just walked into my room, in tears, and I just knew. I hugged her like I'd never see her again. "Play" by Flunk, from the OC soundtrack of all things. How odd, how fragile is life.

[wordsofjordan]

La Cave Du Vine

The lights, the lights So soft and warm A kind touch in the dark Soft tunes lazing In the too hip atmosphere Candles lit and votives out How forgiving a place The cigarettes are too much But the beer is cheap And how warm, how rosy my cheeks Thinking of you In the basement bar of Coventry Of the things we did to one another Thinking of The lights, the lights

[wordsofjordan]

This is my penance

I have a tendency to be a despot in love this is something I did not know until much too late I overidealize and I built you up to be someone so much different than who I fell for originally worse, still I overidealize myself. perhaps more of a crime and all the more regrettable felt so damned sorry for myself when I had an equal hand. So, I'm sorry. I'm not who I used to think I was, you deserved so much better, and it took the long way around to realize that. Please remember the finer bits and forgive me,  for this is a penance, and it's all I have left.

[wordsofjordan]

The worst thing a sailor can do to yeh, is be perfectly honest.

On the whole, a positive breed, all “fair winds” and “calm seas” to yeh. But a sailor’s never worse than perfectly true, a level answer and a true read. What a life to lead what a thing to be

   Reblog

[wordsofjordan]

To work aboard a ship

     The sun rose over the placid harbor. The tugs hadn't left dock yet. Freighters were still chugging along at ten or so on the Canadian side. The single sound over all of the North Coast Harbor, save for the occasional squawk of gulls and slosh of minor chop against the starboard side, was the twist and click of the key turning tumblers and opening the stern gate to the GOODTIME III. Rubbing sleep and hangover from his eyes, he turned a new key in the door's padlock and opened that, too. He strolled along the familiar deck. The same ragged carpeting he'd walked miles and miles upon. Up the forward ladder to the second deck, and doubling back toward the aft end of the ship. Looking out over the lake, he was disappointed not to spy any freighters coming in, or any expectant tugs waiting with the same patience and diligence for their laker as a loyal dog showed waiting for his master to return home from a long day of work. He walked to the aft stairwell and continued up another deck, and turned to his right to marvel upon the skyline so many take for granted. Burke Lakefront Airport, the Doubletree Hotel, The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, the Science Center, the Browns Stadium, and the William G. Mather. Just as quickly as he turned affectionately toward his city, he turned back as he had thousands of times. He strode the length of the deck and let himself into the pilothouse. He sat down in the captain's chair, laid hand on the wheel, and looked out over the harbor with a keen eye.      To do anything else in the morning, he thought, was such a waste.

[wordsofjordan]

a change

The things that once stirred him fireflies blinking in the canopy of the tree line the autumn smoke smell on that old red hoodie beautiful girls in sundresses and sunglasses walking downtown the sky reflecting green across the water's choppy surface cool rain on a warm day  these things came to taste like ash and all that mattered was good friends and strong drink