6 in 1 (new recording 12): the people/ trees/lakes/ mountains that loved me; & also my instagram love letter to claire elizabeth cottrill (plus: updated with writing from archives: john carlisle iii)
i have given the wrong impression about the nature of my reality: i have been surrounded by people, trees, and waterways who love me; 7: the gospel proclaimed
What would happen if Jesus came back as a teenage girl?
Which is your preferred candy Claire?
also:
have I passed numerology yet?
what?
are you going to tell me that happens on November 9?
❤️💘💞💕🌸🎀🥰
Were you laughing at me???
Did you think I thought I’d figured out the surprise???
Me too! 😭😭😭
But guess what?
am I still an amoeba?? 💘
Hi! I love Claire. She makes my heart an art class (thanks bea). Want to hear me say it?
a friend helped me see tonight:
i have made it seem as if i have encountered only ignorant people and hatred.
Why has my dad Keith Jelinek been tracking me? Observations (updated 1:19 pm est 11/5/2024)
in truth i have been fixated on and obsessed with my enemies,
at the cost of appreciating the people who have loved me over the years.
not to mention the loving people i have found in grand rapids:
grand rapids, my new home: reflections & photographs
halloween, grand rapids, buffy, the u.k., and the nightmare of the byzantine empire
here is my love for you encapsulated:
it wasn’t just music.
it was all of you.
and guess what to my haters?
i may add more to this list throughout the day tomorrow.
i cannot possibly remember everyone now.
i love you all so much.
my son;
Claire, who loves me, who watches over me, who saved me on purpose;
Phoebe, whose album Stranger in the Alps I left on repeat while I slept (after walking around crying from sadness for an hour or so) and who gave me through her musical spell casting the means to finish this post;
The mountains of India and Nepal, Georgia and Colorado, Oregon and Japan;
The mountains of Colombia, Ecuador, and Peru;
The Sea of Galilee;
Laci Green, whose voice helped me escape fundamentalist Christianity and who still inspires me so deeply today (never met her but she replied to my Instagram message!!!!);
J, my Spanish tutor in Colombia who taught me how to deconstruct the structures of romantic love and eventually embrace myself as poly;
J, who guided me through the mountains of Georgia and Armenia and cast a spell on me with his presence in Vienna;
My hairdresser, who helped me see the trees who love me and keep me safe;
My aunt h, who loved me and cared for me;
Anyone who cheered me on for my 4 marathons;
My cat calypso, born around October 31, 2015; adopted by me and my wife as a stray; and my familiar;
, my first friend on substack;N, who took me on the best date of my life so far;
the water of Venice;
the trees of Seattle, the trees of Grand Rapids & East Grand Rapids, the trees of the Upper Penninsula who kept my car alive;
K, a friend in GR who once came by to analyze love is blind with me;
the trees of prospect park, Central Park, John ball zoo, Frederick Meijer gardens, and all along the river of Freiburg;
the scholastic purple owl who visited me when I took shrooms with A in Seattle just after an nye long ago;
every Christmas tree I ever bought in Brooklyn from Vermont;
Sally Rooney, who helped me understand that the twentieth century had a big question to which we got the wrong answer;
the two teenage girls who walked by me at the Phoebe show in prospect park and through their conversation gave me the example I still need to learn: “when I’m going to post I think” about why;
the nation of Germany;
The city of Dublin;
The people of Kurdistan;
The people of Cappadocia;
The city of Freiburg and U who ran my program there, who has always loved and supported me;
Dean Sherman Garnett of James Madison College, who inspired me to explore the world and learn languages (still working on Russian!!!);
Folke Lindahl, who made me wanna read all the history and philosophy that exists;
, who made me listen more closely to Sabrina Caprenter;
the trees & water formations who looked over me in Dublin as I read sally rooney / listened to Phoebe on st Stephen’s green, Fitzwilliam Square, Marrion square, and near Trinity;
Bosnia gets its own post soon, holy fuck;
L, who lived in my flat in freiburg and makes me want to dance.
H, who connected with me so much over death cab for cutie (i was wrong) and knew i was radiant even when i acted weird in germany
K, my german host sister who always loved me even when i was too shy to talk to her
Kay, my sister who told me she loves me tonight, who has suffered as much as i have, & who deeply inspires me with her vast medical knowledge and holistic approach;
my brothers in law, who trained me in Civ;
my sister in law, who inspired me to be artistic and drew the naked woman I saw while taking care of her dog and listening to clairo and which I then put up on the wall in my wife and i’s house after she gave this icon to us as a gift;
My mother, who taught me to look beneath the surface of the gospel;
The people of Books are Magic in Brooklyn who curated the books that made me more romantic;
Sally Rooney, whose novels I first found while listening to Phoebe and wandering around Dublin and who taught me that I wanted to be Eileen;
Warren Buffet, who taught me how to invest through his example;
, who is so pretty and who makes me wanna be an actress;Craig Benjamin, a Grand Valley professor who taught me about the ancient world through his lecture courses and who is supposedly a bad ass jazz musician as well! Also a Buddhist!!! I also read his book about the Kushans ❤️💘💞 but I’ve never met him;
The cultural heritage of South Asia;
The moon;
All the art and history books I ever read;
Schechter, my professor and mentor over the years;
Professor Graham, my thesis advisor and inspiration behind my push further east;
Mindy Kaling, an artistic inspiration;
The boys at
, who often hold views that annoy me but who also helped me see through empty concepts and crystallize my thinking; and who sometimes inspire my speaking voice when I record; and who also know a LOT about history;Vanessa Hudgens and Rose McIver, who taught me how to be a princess;
, who through her stories helps keep me focused on global issues when I’m thinking about Claire; , whose novels I read right when they come out and who teaches me to be a romantic;S, a sexy girl in Grand Rapids whose confidence and style and charisma inspires me;
F, who gave me feedback in a way I didn’t like but ultimately taught me to listen to my friends beneath the surface of their words;
J, who loved me in college and also in Berlin, so much she wrote about our experience there on her substack;
My father in law, whose display of love for his son right before Charm came out (through a toast at his son’s wedding) showed me what true parental love looked like;
S, the crush from 8th grade who inspired me to go to Claire’s;
, for giving me faith that:My mother in law, who makes me want to learn to bake;
T from Forest View who gave me some final (preliminary) instruction in mysticism;
The home inspector who helped me understand about old wood and energy;
The trees of Grand Rapids who helped me understand about Old Growth;
My friend’s German dad who in Nepal reminded me about a German word I also always loved — Urwald;
B, who first started showing me the sky, trees, and insects (thank you to my hair dresser for showing me how my dad stopped me from eating kiwis and grapefruits);
the Ford girls;
Faye Webster, whose music lured me to the show where I discovered Haim and Princess Nokia;
Princess Nokia, who set me ON FIRE with a yearning to be cool;
Haim, who made me wanna be a woman in music when I bought their shirt — women in music part iii on the sleeves — the day I discovered them and saw them live at MSG;
The two young women in Vienna who sat next time and had a conversation about the guy who wouldn’t stop looking at the stories ❤️;
E, a bad ass artist in Argentina who taught me about the people who slip poison into bottles;
A, who showed me i loved taylor swift;
My therapist, who showed me the truth about my parents;
Benjamin Graham, who taught me how to invest through his writing (thanks Joe)
My grandmother Judee, who watches over me when the wind blows & the leaves dance;
My grandmother Charleen, who loved me when i was little, dreaming i was a little blonde girl the same year phoebe was born;
My grandfather, who was feeding me red vines when i was listening to music on my headphones and who always showed such deep love for my writing;
My high school sweetheart, who taught me i was a hopeless romantic, who introduced me to sufjan stevens (andrew’s aliens??? 🩷), and who made me fall in love with fall;
Y, my sexy instructional coach;
D, my principal who trained me in leadership;
M, who taught me about Quakers and the light:
L, who inspired me to love literature more;
All the girls on my team in Harlem, I love each of you SO much;
X, who taught me to love gay stuff;
The cherry blossom tree of prospect park, which was blessed by my friend and which watched over me;
Over and over I have felt drawn to this picture, and now I realize:
This tree loves me, and I love this tree;
S, who bought me my fish in high school and whom I named King James III;
Janie Barner, my German teacher who helped turn me Left;
, my favorite writer on Substack and one of the smartest most insightful people out there;M, who taught with me in Detroit and taught me how to love different colors of glasses;
K, who taught with me in love and showed me what it means to really be there for students;
H, who reminded me in Munich of my love for death cab for cutie;
L, who introduced me to the office & egyptian ratscrew;
Pam, my first TV character crush;
K, who tried to get me to read Journey to the Ants and gave me an introductory course in philosophy right there in my dorm room;
Kendrick Lamar, whose music inspired me with poetry;
Tkay, whose music brings me confidence and brings out my killer mode;
A, who is the smartest person I’ve ever met, who taught me about avatars, and who told me (2022?) he was surprised I wasn’t an avatar given my life experiences, and who looked at me with a smile when I told whom, “I know what my agenda would be — teenage girl music”;
S and H, who fed me the Bhang candy that put me to sleep only to wake up with the door open outside Mumbai (where I fell asleep lol) and see them retreating into the sunlight;
S from above, who blessed me in her house in Mumbai at Diwali and then blessed my tree in prospect park every fucking year;
Another S, whose Instagram dance shows made me want to dance, who taught me about the idiocy of people who only read non-fiction, and who — with A — brought me to the mountains of Nepal;
A and S, from above, who blessed me with their proximity in Vienna, Albany, and Westchester; who let me care for their dog while I wrote about the Byzantines; and who taught me about Saraswati and said she’d be my favorite;
The trees around Traverse City who made me wanna have sex in the wild and helped me develop my agenda;
C, who taught me about Marxism, directed me toward labor and monopoly capital, read my earliest writing, helped me understand Christianity, and gave me the example to talk back to my dad;
Peter Harvey, whose book an introduction to Buddhism helped me understand myself;
Matt Smith, for modeling my ideal Doctor mode;
Above: Doctor Who and Clara
the people of NOXX dispensary, u know the one;
the people of high profile dispensary, u know the one;
M1, who dated my best friend and made me wanna live a wild life;
M2, who taught me how to be a stoner and contemplate the stupidity of American culture in its worst manifestations;
, who posts the most mesmerizing selfies on Substack and has such beautiful eyes; , who has the best hot takes on Substack; , who alerted me to the stakes when she wrote about the violent attacks on Taylor Swift concerts;G, who taught me to believe in my love for German literature;
Roberto Bolaño, whose book the savage detectives inspired me to just keep walking;
the people who made the shattered thoughts gummies i took 6 hours ago;
Mrs. T, my fifth grade teacher who loved me so much and told me i was a great writer when i was writing novels in my notebooks the same year as clairo was born;
The tattoo artist in Phoenix who complied with my mysterious impulse to point my compass East, a reminder to push further East physically, intellectually, artistically, spiritually;
The tattoo artist in Durham who gave me my Phoebe ghost/lavender tattoo that I ripped off of Reddit lol but which set my lavender arise;
The tattoo artist in Seattle who gave me my butterfly with pink and purple swirls shortly after I came out in July (good trees in Seattle);
A, who taught me how to have fun and who taught me what it meant to be loved by a friend;
to the mayberries — A, C, S, J:
#17: Friends, Novels, and FOMO as a Way of Life
C, with whom i had so much fun traveling through india; who convinced me to take my socks off on a boat cruise; who tried to help me see i didn’t need to walk around malta in thermal sweat pants; who always gets me to party more; and who tolerated me constantly going off to listen to phoebe when we were in france:
I had gone to the Irish pub partly out of a yearning for Ireland. The heat of Nice had drawn me into nostalgic thoughts about the cold chilly glory of Ireland last year in November and a few years before that in February. I found myself caught between wishing I was there again and knowing it was best for my soul to see something new. But having already enjoyed the Irish pub a couple times, my last day in Nice was a bit different than the mustache man’s.
I woke up early in the morning before sunrise and went to the beach. I walked for an hour on the promenade along the seaside, listening to Phoebe Bridgers on my headphones while the light slowly emerged from behind a large cape jutting out into the sea. I loved that dawn, listening to my favorite Phoebe songs and slowly watching the sunrise over the Mediterranean. Faint yet vibrant colors shifted constantly on the surface of the water, so that every second was like a new painting, and I regretted each moment I averted my eyes from the scenes I would never get back. It partly took me back to Dublin in the cool autumn, where I had spend hours walking around the parks listening to Phoebe, but soon I found that my beloved activity was equally enticing here in the morning. Once the sun had finally risen and the gentle, mystical light evolved toward a more punishing heat, I sat down at a French bakery to write and read.
A couple hours later, I met my friend back at the hostel. We went to Monaco for the day, where I walked happily among the Ferraris in my black sweatpants. I had finally abandoned the jeans, but I still clung fervently to the hope that I might hasten winter’s arrival with my delusional and defiant clothing choices. We watched the changing of the guard for the reigning Prince of Monaco and son of Grace Kelly. All around were dazzling views of the mountains which surround that tiny country, and we strolled through the lobby of the Monte Carlo casino. My friend and I then spent the late afternoon back in Nice. We had a final drink in the central medieval square, enjoying the old and magical atmosphere one last time before heading back to the hostel to pack up our things and prepare for an early bus departure.
Soon it was dark and I should have gone to sleep. But I needed just one more walk along the Mediterranean Sea at night. I don’t like relaxing on the beach in the sun; the summer does not correspond to my wintry mental dispositions, and the idea of relaxing in the sand in a bathing suit fills me with dread. But I love the beach in my own way, because I love to walk along the water. I ended the day as I had begun it, simply seeking the moonlight and the blackness of the sea, complimenting the sunrise which had captivated me for so long that very morning. To the hour I had spent walking along the promenade that morning, I added two hours that night walking beside the beach while listening again to Phoebe Bridgers on my headphones.
The sky was totally clear and black. The sea would have been a huge portal of nothingness but for the moon. She was full, bright, and startlingly luminous up in space. Her lunar rays poured out serenely onto the sea, depositing a vast triangle of bright reflected moonlight onto the water’s surface. The glowing moon pool’s soft colors rippled with the waves. Its base was far away on the horizon; it narrowed gradually as it approached the shore, always seeming to move along beside me as I made my way in the night. With that lovely moon above me, the Mediterranean beside me, and the cherished music playing in my ears, I could hardly justify ending my walk. I was afraid I wouldn’t savor it enough, like maybe I hadn’t savored my hike enough, and I continued along the promenade until I was simply too exhausted to avoid making my way to my bunkbed. The next morning, we set forth for Marseille.
thank you for joining me on a life-changing trip.
S, who forced me to think about hinduism when i was a psycho atheist and who taught me what it meant to be loved by a friend;
C and M, who brought me into their family and taught me about how Metro Detroit was constructed by white supremacists;
B, a friend who has always criticized me when i have not treated women well, but who has loved me and been there for me all the same;
H, who inspired me to think about my own fashion and who taught me what it meant to be loved by a friend;
J, who always stayed up late with me to talk about absurd political scenarios and who taught me what it meant to be loved by a friend;
C, an eternal friend who taught me so much,
Sw, who played death cab on the piano, told me to listen to camera obscura, and dressed me up like a girl;
O, who has constantly inspired me by starting her own creative business and who made me want to be so cool in high school;
N, who helped dress me up like a girl and always made me feel loved;
Z, who casts spells on me through texts and makes me feel like i can make friends;
R, the first girl to make out with me to Charm;
A, the first girl to make out with me to Chappell Roan (at rumors!!! I went alone!!!);
Jersey Devil, who danced with me at rumors, makes me wanna be a vampire, and somehow gives me a critical boost of confidence every time she posts a picture of herself;
, who reminded me about space; , whom I love and need to text more; , who shared my love for music and is sadly too busy to write as much as the world needs her writing;Y, who gave me her number to get coffee and be friends (i went back lol);
F, who taught me how to get sexy on snap;
M, who taught me how to embrace my hair and listened to me constantly;
E, who has always made me feel my own radiance from an enormous distance, trying to invite me to mexico and always being declined;
J, among my bodhisattvas of coolness;
D, among my bodhisattvas of coolness (not to mention my “tumblr girl of ur worst fucking nightmares” energy 🩷;
K, who taught me how history books only get excited when they talk about war, who listened to me rant about politics & what i was reading for countless hours, and who introduced me to so much crucial music;
L, who lived with me in india and listened to all my rants about war and peace;
K, who supported me the moment i came out as non-binary and who by their* lived example taught me how to say fuck capitalism, fuck the patriarchy, and fuck israel;
S, who loved me in Brooklyn and just kept posting pictures of her looking hot at music festivals;
P, who taught with me in brooklyn, who texted with me constantly during lockdown, who got high with me in prospect park, who walked around that same park with me, who helped me see the delusions of my self-hatred, whose texts got me through my darkest moments: jesus, P, you mean so fucking much to me and i hope you are happy
A, who loved me in brooklyn and was always down to get wine with me;
L, who sat beside me my first year teaching in brooklyn and with whom i had so many interesting conversations about history;
T & A, who worked with me on ops in brooklyn and with whom i always had fun at work;
B, who inspired me to look at the sky, poetry, and art;
N, who loved me in brooklyn, connected with me over running (i’ve run 4 marathons!!! but nate is a better runner haha), and was always supportive of my writing;
E, who led me to the byzantines and who helped me embrace my love for literature;
C, who taught me about altars and helped me see me own innate spirituality;
T, who connected with me over depression and who helped me embrace a love for sex;
S, the girl who made me love sex;
when i wrote about N and running,
i thought:
this park was enchanted, wasn’t it???
you know how many fucking miles i ran and walked there???? lol
more than the park in kolkata in 2015 — was that one enchanted too though? Was it the park or the lake inside of it? Was it the “lake” or the water itself?
#19: The Park in Each Season: an ode to the happiness i feel in prospect park
phoebe bridgers and the music that blossomed my queerness (retrospective diary: 2021-2024)
and what about central park?
where i listened to clairo while walking a dog?
clairo, buddhism, nyc, and queerhood (retrospective diary: 2019-2024)
was that one enchanted too???
All these lakes:
East Grand Rapids where I walked the lake around night after night listening to sonic youth;
Prospect park where I walked around the lake day after day listening to Phoebe bridgers;
Central Park where I walked around the reservoir so many days walking a little doggy and listening to clairo, winter and summer all over that park and all along various waterways: has the water protected me too???
who will be the first to tell me to my face?
🩷
claire elizabeth cottrill: the exit from smoke signals and the love of my life
did i get distracted again?
above:
before walk around the enchanted lake of east grand rapids while listening to clairo in the rain in the dark with my phone on 3%
below:
after
i am so sorry to anyone i have forgotten: you mean so much to me, all of you.
maybe this was two posts in one.
there will be updates for those i forgot!!!
i love you all;
thank you for saving me.
every time I see this picture,
I am stunned by how beautiful you are.
remember post aesthetics?
remember my persona????
john carlisle iii!!!!
june 2015!!!
did u see my writing claire?
were you behind it?
was i practicting?
I always wondered about my Spotify city:
Cambridge, MA
🩷
more where that came from
First time I’ve heard this one Claire:
I love you so deeply Claire.
So deeply.
I think we’re like the wind and the sea.
this is how you make me write:
Claire:
You are so fucking sexy.
Fuck.
🔥🔥🔥🥵🥵🥵
ilyy🤍🤍