On deliciousness and overflow

Hi!

The year began quietly. Which, frankly, makes me suspicious. No fireworks. No grand rebrand. No “this is my year” energy. Just a soft landing. Like a cat choosing a spot on the couch and daring you to move around it.

I’ve been thinking a lot about deliciousness lately. Not in a wellness way. In a very specific, mildly irresponsible way.

For example: Sumo mandarins. I accidentally bought them in Buffalo thinking they were $4 a pound, which already felt indulgent. Turns out they were $4 each. I had a brief moment of reflection, then immediately decided this was a sunk cost situation and committed fully. Now that I’m back in California they’re slightly cheaper, and I am still making deeply unserious eye contact with them every time I peel one. They are perfect. They taste like winter decided to be nice for once.

I’ve also been putting real cream in things. Actual cream. From Alexandre Farms. In my chai. Sometimes even in protein shakes, which I don’t usually drink because they feel like a personality choice. Adding cream turns them into something Victorian and faintly unhinged. Like I’m fueling myself for a long letter-writing session in a drafty manor. Highly recommend.

We moved last week, and everything is still half-boxed, half-chaotic, but the floors… the floors. They’re oiled wood, and walking on them barefoot feels inexplicably luxurious. Softer. Warmer. Like the house is gently congratulating itself. Every time my feet hit them I think, Oh. This is doing something to my nervous system.

Here’s what’s been clicking for me:

I’ve always been creative. That part never went anywhere. But when I actually fill myself up with rest, pleasure, quiet, novelty, joy, the creativity that comes out is different. It’s not hustling. It’s not trying to justify itself. It’s overflow. It’s the good stuff that spills when nobody’s asking for output and I’m not trying to be impressive. The holidays did that.

I’ve been taking jazz piano lessons purely for my own edification, which is adult code for “because I want to and no one can stop me.” I’m not trying to get good at anything in particular. I’m just wandering through chords, letting my hands make questionable decisions, enjoying the luxury of playing without a point.

And then there were the family music incidents, plural. At one point, we accidentally formed an ambient band. I had the bass. Miles, my youngest nephew and certified chaos angel, took the middle and played whatever felt right to him in the moment. Bernie, who is nine and already far more confident than I have ever been, improvised a melody line on top. We looped a few chords. The kids found string sounds. Everything went very floaty and cinematic very fast. It was ambient. It was legitimate. I fear it was good.

Separately, on another occasion (because one musical event was apparently not enough), my mom produced an Instagram steel drum. My other nephew, Theo, took that very seriously. My dad, who does not play the violin, picked up a violin anyway and committed fully. This was not ambient. This was chaos. It was joyful, loud, and deeply unserious in the best way.

Between all of this, I’ve been working on a song called APPLE & BANANA with the kids, who are actually on the track with me. Processing their vocals in Ableton and turning them into little chops has been, without exaggeration, one of the purest forms of fun I’ve had in a while. There is nothing like hearing tiny voices pop out of professional music software to remind you that art does not need to be solemn to be real.

All this fullness had a side effect: two songs wandered out into the world this week almost by accident. One sparkly and space-adjacent. One darker and stranger, written a long time ago about a fictional woman uncovering massive fraud and realizing that survival sometimes looks like pretending everything is fine. I didn’t plan the timing. I didn’t make a big deal. They just… left the house when they were ready.

Which feels correct. I don’t have resolutions this year. I don’t have a word. I barely have a plan, which is saying something. I definitely didn’t buy a big year long poster board size calendar like the bro influencers recommend, which I’ve done way too many years in a row

What I do have is a deep appreciation for pleasure that doesn’t need to be optimized, creativity that comes from overflow instead of pressure, and the quiet confidence that when things are this full, whatever spills next will be worth paying attention to.

If your year is also starting softly, sideways, or with an emphasis on enjoyment over urgency, I hope you trust that too. We are not behind. We might just be very, very full, in the best way.

With love,

Lauren 🍊🎹✨

P.S. If you happen to run into any new music of mine out there, tell it I say hi. No pressure.