Magic, Squash soup, etc

There’s magic everywhere, if you know how to look for it.

Hi, darling. We live in miracle times - computers in our laps. So this full day of Saturday exhaustion maybe isn’t such a waste, because right now I’m in bed typing to you.

There’s magic everywhere, if you know how to look for it.

(That is literally the only sentence I wrote yesterday)
(I stayed in bed the full day and wrote one sentence)

But we live in miracles times - computers in our laps. So now it is Sunday, and you and I are on my couch together.

We live in miracle times and we also live in wild times. Headlines blare, wars rage, the world seemingly unravels and my body can feel as though it’s following suit.

(I barely even notice it - the fatigue rolls in like fog until I’m suddenly engulfed, unsure when the ground beneath me began to give way)
(By then I’m likely rewatching Veep for the nine trillionth time, because nothing says "self-care" like political backstabbing that is once again timely)

There’s magic everywhere, if you know how to look for it.

The week begins with Gary, my genius manager.

We’ve been working together for the better part of 2024. He enters at the most chaotic time I’ve ever experienced, which makes me feel (1) like maybe I’m the worst client he’s ever worked with (2) like we only have excitement ahead.

(His presence is calm but determined, holding the gravitas of someone who’s spent years navigating choppy industry waters and now understands how to ride the waves with steady grace)
(He is from a long line of Bay Area Italians, recently celebrated his Nona’s 100th birthday in San Jose)
(I’ve never had someone in my corner like this before—someone with the skills, proven track record, and unwavering focus to not only understand my vision but actually help make it happen)
(And look, I’m not saying that a decade and a half of non support was worth it to find the perfect person to be on the team, but I’m not not saying that, okay?!)
(Also helps that he’s the coolest person alive)

There’s magic everywhere, if you know how to look for it.

Every meeting with Gary feels like a hug, an invitation, a turning point. I almost cancel this one because I feel like I didn’t accomplish anything this week, but José reminds me that that is the point of these meetings.

(That maybe I can show up and be helped?!)

Gary and I joke about throwing spaghetti at the wall, but we eventually settle on throwing polenta at the wall because apparently that's an actual Italian thing.

(I love this)

I tell him I’ll do my best on polenta, but that my second infusion starts Wednesday so I might be more lumpy batch than smooth pour. Also, there may not be any polenta.

There’s magic everywhere, if you know how to look for it.

On the walk back to my car the world seems to have gotten the memo re: delightful.

(That’s the thing about magic—it tends to create even more of itself)

I get to work. There is music to be written, polenta to be thrown, things to think about. Two days feel transcendent. The bad effects of the first infusion are wearing off, and the good ones make me feel like I could lift a car (or write something wrenching). I start finger painting again. I start thinking in little sentences, little musical motifs. I hit a little dip and at that very moment Daniel texts me, because he is magic in human form.

I take him up on it. Do I even need to type to you about his magic, when this photo exists?!

There’s magic everywhere, if you know how to look for it.

And then there’s Anna. Brilliant, honest, grounded, creativity in human form. An inspiration who often appears with the kind of uncanny timing that makes you wonder if she’s secretly in cahoots with the cosmos. Before the infusion I bake her pumpkin cardamom muffins and catch her eyes closed mid laugh, a photo that will forever warm my heart.

There’s magic everywhere, if you know how to look for it.

Tuesday arrives. One day until the infusion. Maybe because last time’s was so lonely, so cold, so sad, the vision of Dylan (who by now I hope you feel is your best friend, by proxy), walking up my driveway with three tiny bags because he refuses to overpack is the best thing that could ever exist.

There’s magic everywhere, if you know how to look for it.

Dylan asks me something important.

“What do you need? And what do you not need?”

The question is so compassionate, such a perfect way to phrase it that I am able to voice it all, more or less. And so, when we get to the cold hallways, they just read as the art they are, rather than the emptiness they felt like last time.

When I wake up from the drugged sleeps I have this perfection smile to look at.

(Talk about magic!)

There’s magic everywhere, if you know how to look for it.

Dylan’s presence makes it all seem less terrible. We visit Micah, a friend we’ve known for twenty years, see the world through her perfection baby’s eyes.

Two days in Anna drops by at 11 pm with a god damn shepherd’s pie that her husband Jason made for me. We throw it in the freezer and then sit on the porch for ten minutes with Dylan laughing our asses off before she heads back to Burbank.

There’s magic everywhere, if you know how to look for it.

It’s only when Dylan leaves that the heaviness catches up, an overdue bill finally arriving.

(A slow realization, no less powerful in its quiet return)

But I know better than to go this alone. Sam delivers me sushi from afar for dinner. José, on tour in Europe, is up when I wake up at 4 am in the throes of panic and nausea. My mom, dad and Paulina take regular calls and lovingly hold space.

There’s magic everywhere, if you know how to look for it.

We live in miracle times—computers in our laps. Earlier today, Anna’s husband Jason’s shepherd’s pie got me through (IT. WAS. DELICIOUS). Now I’ve written a couple more words and am sitting on the floor of my kitchen, watching the steam rise from a pot of squash soup that I was miraculously able to cook, typing to you.

That’s the end of these infusions, as far as my specialist in this rare disease that affects only 16,000 misbehaving kidneys on earth says.

(Btw I realized last week that actually it’s a rare disease that affects 32,000 misbehaving kidneys, technically?!)
(But I wanted to keep the continuity)
(So now I’ve done both, been correct re: amount of kidneys and kept the continuity)

There’s magic everywhere, if you know how to look for it.

I received and felt so much of your love this week, and it meant the absolute world to me.

There’s magic everywhere, if you know how to look for it.

The soup simmers, the words come slowly, but they come. I don’t know if the hard days are over, if I’ll feel more fatigue or more car lifting strength. But for now I bask in the warmth. Laugh a little, hope the soup turns out delicious, think about all of you lighting up your little corners of the world.

(It might sound hokey to say all this with the world on fire)
(I get it)
(And also it's true)

So if today’s not a magic-finding kind of day, like mine yesterday, where it’s simply a day for bed, I salute you. And if you are finding magic somewhere, I salute you, too.

(You're mine right now!)

More next week.
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