HeyJaredNew Orientations
Hi, I'm Jon. This is my personal Substack, a place where I explore a range of topics from a definitive perspective: my own. Stick around if you like writing that walks the thin line between sincerity and playfulness. I write poetry and non-fiction mostly.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 13
- Latest publication
- Sep 17, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Aug 15, 2026
Latest issues
Ruined blank photograph #1 (opens the original)
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Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedA man with tanned skin wearing a sailor's cap, perhaps. He smokes. He is seventy years old, or more. He looks as though he has lived here all his life, by the sea. He watches people pass. He's wearing a vest. Or maybe he's wearing a striped t-shirt, like Wally. But no, I can't be sure. That detail is lost. He watches the water, the sunshine dancing on it, the pedalos, the woman in stilettos, the fat man yelling something at
The truth is thin (opens the original)
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Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedThe truth is thin. It turns in on itself, it turns itself in. It is so thin it is hard to grasp, yet when you feel it it seems simple, magnetic like an old receipt: eggs bread coffee mint oats butter beer. Because the truth is thin the truth appears to come from within. But that's not exactly correct, it's not really the answer you expect, though its close like a new belief: the truth is a meeting. <d
The gift (opens the original)
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If anyone gives you £36 million and says they want “nothing”in return,know that they’rea lying piece of shitand the world would be better offif they were shot into spacein a five metre by five metre capsule,along with a hungry bengal tiger.Thanks for reading New Orientations! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.<input class="email-i
A thinning (opens the original)
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Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedPerhaps it's beginning, a slight distancing, a thinning. Bubbles in a drink, a straight-lined, uneven shape of sun. In another universe I have a dog and every day I go, smiling, to the pub. In another, I have found comfort in keeping my clothes on my body, which is rich with grease and dirt and sores. This is a physical politics, constant emergence, the muck of cardboard and old shit and fag-ends and sycamore leaves beside a
The drive to work (opens the original)
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On the drive the workI listen to podcasts,but that still doesn’t compensatefor the drive to work. Thanks for reading New Orientations! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.</
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