HeyJaredThe Orphanage HQ’s Substack
The Orphanage. Not a literal place in theory, a threshold space for wayward creators, divergent channels, metaphysical muses and feral witness. I am re-claiming ritual & active curiousity as neccesary rebellion and refuge in the creative(s) journey.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 10
- Latest publication
- Sep 26, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Jul 12, 2026
Latest issues
Ritual Diary : Until it Behaves (opens the original)
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(Note: I think this diary entry is where Found (& Fading) started…but I am not sure yet.)I sometimes don’t know what to say.Which is weird for a writer.But sometimes I will sit with a space on a page, or be talking to a face, or fixed on a screen, or even in my own head…and I get it…but I don’t. It doesn’t have a shape. It’s not an epic concept or quirky nuance or deeply relevant. It’s just an awareness of a corner where something is coming and should really be said…it just doesn’t have useful s
Field Liturgies: 2 poems. (opens the original)
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StillI packed my jeans & moved away from the fault linesBut stillI miss listening to the promise of waves the always retreat & rigid return & the sands infant gnawing on my toes The sunblock smeared on yesterday's peeling burn the smell as it melted into the salt on my suit.& all the things that held the world still. Before they constructed freeways through To the next line & I learned how to stand so perfectly still. BUTBut I can’t live in a house that quake
AN OPEN CALL: Found & Fading. (opens the original)
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I have been (obsessively) thinking and working with two words for months.Found.Fade.Which, you know, is very typically me. I apparently cannot just look at a word and move on. I have to take it apart, look at where it came from, see what memories it carries, and ask why it keeps following me around.This is something I do bi-weeklu with Too Many Words, my audio series where I take one word and wander through its history, meanings, strange connections, and the places it leads.
RITUAL DIARY: Dear Tuesday Un-subscriber. (opens the original)
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To whom it may concern — because it doesn’t concern me, or this space. So maybe: Dear Tuesday Unsubscriber.I’m not sure what happened. Was it you? Was it me? Did we drift apart because I started taking pictures instead of asking AI to make shit for my cover art? Was it that I said the word shit... or actually, I think, Tuesday, I used the word fuck, and there was sex and drinking. It was a story about a younger person. I am generally far more refined, or at least good at filtering my youth out o
SACRAMENT OF FICTION: The Miracle Worker. (opens the original)
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I remember I was typing and you were sitting, to my left, on my giant purple and gold high backed floral print chair. You were reading a book—something out of characer and campy about flight attendants. And we were trying it on. Acting as though it was normal.I remember this because it felt very realistic for the few hours we sat there.I remember clumsily pawing at the keyboard, pretending like I was the writer it would take me 20 more years to become.I remember this evening because I had spent
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