Dear friends,

I've done that thing again where I've waited so long to send a (new)sletter that there's just too much to say since I last wrote you at the end of January.

Whoops.

To make up for lost time, I plan to send two newsletters this month. So let's begin the scroll fest with a poem by Kay Ryan, shall we?

It isn't ever delicate to live, but it feels especially less-delicate these days, like we keep spinning our intricate webs as forces around us try to pull them down. Big forces like the pandemic and the utter disregard of its ongoing devastation and danger. Legislation (or lack there of) that actively harms women, LGBTQ folks, minorities, immigrants. The changing climate's crescendo of ravages. Another shooting of children, of queer and black bodies, of pulsing human life. Big forces masquerading as quotidian forces like ailing relatives, no childcare, a new ache in your body, grief, toxic work environments, relationship stress. It is so damn hard not to feel fragile.

This year the webs of my life snagged in little ways, some more painfully than others. When I lost a dear friend who died suddenly at the age of 39. When I missed distant weddings of close friends (including ones I helped set up!) and countless gatherings because I decided to put the health of myself and loved ones first. When I said farewell to one of my life-anchor sister friends who moved to Seattle to begin her residency in family medicine. When I spent hours, days, months on the phone fighting insurance on the phone to get my mammogram and other procedures covered and was reminded that prevention is a myth in our healthcare system and that my body is not on Blue Shield's timeline. When I felt deeply gaslit (not a term I use lightly) by society and people close to me for taking covid seriously.

It's heavy work everyplace, as Kay Ryan so aptly puts. I know many of you feel this in your bones too.

For me the only way forward is to think of what helps my inner arachnid build and rebuild, of what keeps the ropes strong, of what posts I can hang onto, of what inspires me to keep spinning the threads despite it all. There is, of course, labor involved, but this is the work that makes the heavy work lighter to bear.

Enrique and I became official domestic partners in the eyes of California (and the random notary public who authorized our documents) and received three different ornamental garden goats to celebrate (thanks, friends). I started working on my own writing again in earnest and published an essay in Serious Eats about baking with my mom. I reunited with beloved high school buddies for a beautiful outdoor wedding in Los Angeles and ate vegan pop tarts frosted with retro Snoopys at my favorite bakery by the LA river. I made new friends who bonded with me over everything from extroversion, to chronic illness, to loving poetry. I got to collaborate with one of my oldest and best friends, Kristina Closs, on so many artistic endeavors (including the birds and spider above!). And I consumed many works of art and media (see below) that nourished and delighted me.

I hope the threads of your life are holding up okay, and that you are finding--and creating--support and joy in this delicate web we're all spinning together.

Warmly,

Natalie

A Few Things I Enjoyed In the First Half of 2022

(Part II arriving in a few weeks)

{Read}

Fiction: An Unlasting Home by Mai El Nakib | Pure Colour by Sheila Heti | Either/Or by Elif Batuman (read The Idiot first!) | Seven Days in June by Tia Williams | Tell Me How to Be by Neel Patel

Nonfiction: Essential Labor: Mothering as Social Change by Angela Garbes (described lovingly by one of my friends as a "socialist hug," I think anybody who cares about children, motherhood, and caregiving in our communities needs to read this) | In Love by Amy Bloom (an unflinching memoir about helping an ailing partner end his life) | Love is an Ex-Country by Randa Jarrar (a funny and poignant journey in Randa's distinct queer, brassy, Palestinian-American voice)

Romance: As I wrote in my my last newsletter, I'm feeling 0 guilt or apology about enjoying reading romance novels to offset the world's detritus. Novels authored by Jasmine Guillory, Talia Hibbert, Christina Lauren, Sophie Cousens, and Emily Henry were at the top (message me for more specifics, the list is so long).

Poetry: new books from dear friends: Customs by Solmaz Sharif, Rise and Float by Brian Tierney, and A Hundred Lovers by Richie Hofmann | The Hurting Kind by one of my favorite writers (and now US Poet Laureate!) Ada Limón | a new discovery: Birthright by George Abraham | all the poems I posted on my blog in April National Poetry Month

Cookbook with personal essays: Arabiyya: Recipes from the Life of an Arab in Diaspora by Reem Assil, whose Arab street corner cafe in the Mission is my San Francisco go-to. I'll gladly suggest what to order if you plan to go!

Cookbook your gut will thank you for: The Fiber Fueled Cookbook by gastroenterologist Will Bulsiewicz. Because it's not my newsletter if we don't talk about fiber and plant-based diets.

{Watch}

TV: We Are Lady Parts (a comedy about a Muslim female punk bad? Yes please.) | Trying (I adore every last detail about this heartfelt dramedy about a British couple trying to adopt) | Moon Knight (Marvel isn't usually my jam, but the combination of Oscar Isaac, May Calamawy, and hearing Arab music celebrated on TV lured me in | Minx (a wide-eyed feminist in 1970s LA ends up creating the first erotic magazine for women) | Life & Beth (I've never been the biggest Amy Schumer fan but this show felt so painfully vulnerable and the interactions between her and Michael Serra's character won me over)
New seasons of: Atlanta (indescribable; please just watch it) | Insecure (Issa Rae! I will so miss this show and its characters) | Ted Lasso | Succession (where everybody is awful and yet we're still watching it) | Sex Education | Hacks | Starstruck

{Listen}

Music: My 2022 playlist will arrive in the end-of-December newsletter! But in the meantime, early in the year I loved "Change" by Big Thief from their double album Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe in You and Silvana Estrada's gorgeous vocals on her album Marchita

Podcast: I'm not a regular listener of the We Can Do Hard Things podcast, but the episodes with renowned gender non-conforming writer and performance artist Alok Vaid-Menon on What makes us beautiful? What makes us free? and with poet and writer Ocean Vuong on Mothers and Sons are not to be missed.