Very Last First Time is a picture book I got from the library a lot as a little kid before my brain could process that title. How can something be first AND last? But I knew it was important, and I knew the pictures of the girl going down into the ice hole all by herself to harvest mussels by candlelight (for the very last first time) made my heart feel like a coiled spring ready to launch itself into deep space. Still makes me feel that way, more now, cuz I’m closer to understanding how to treasure every first for its inherent last-ness.

So welcome to the very last first last email of the very last first year of Annie Quarterly! I started this newsletter tentatively 4 quarters ago, and I’m happy to say I love making it and will keep going. I’ve been trying to slow down and figure out which things I’m custom-built to actually do, and which things I’m just picking up because trying things on intoxicates me. Confirmed: though it may change in shape or form, sharing what inspires me is an essentially unabandonable project.

The cold dark end of the year feels like the right time to have a mini crisis re: what is everything? I spent a chunk of Q4 brushing up on the concept of “4D,” both geometric and spacetime flavors. Physics is not something I ever learned about, but if it had occurred to me sooner I would have loved to devote my life to it.

Today I’m enjoying thinking of spacetime as a self-sculpting cake, both eternal and malleable, which can only be eaten one slice at a time. And we are the cake, which we both make and eat. So pass that along to Einstein and see what he thinks. I think people who say free will doesn’t exist are annoying, and I think people who say determinism is tragic are also annoying. I feel they’re both wrong and not having fun with it. That’s why I’m ambiently inspired by the TV show Is It Cake, which I’ve never seen: I feel it tackles all of these issues head-on, the way a train crushes a penny on the tracks. What do you think?

My Physics Homework: Annual Search Terms

What can be said. Rosalía is the self-sculpting cake. Rosalía is history unfolding. Rosalía is all her own. Oh it’s good to be a Rosalía fan — the rewards are rich, rich, rich. She has a generosity of spirit in interviews that I haven’t seen in anyone other than Dolly Parton, she’s collaborating with Björk, she’s writing about Hildegard von Bingen, she is a true artist and star. I don’t have to tell you that my first listen thru LUX had me in tears, because she’s so tapped in. To art to spirit to herself to everything. I’m so happy she’s here. I dream of interviewing her…

Questions I would ask Rosalía if she were currently in an underground labyrinth:

dir. Paul Newman, cin. Gayne Rescher

In honor of me turning 35, I’m reflecting on Paul Newman’s Rachel, Rachel, a vibrant dark picture that’s too raw & risky to be melodrama but too earnest & bold to be anything else. Joanne Woodward, whose face evokes Liv Ullman’s in staggering expressiveness, plays a woman who is notably 35 in a way that is maybe a little too relatable to me. The titular Rachel calls this age “the exact middle” of her life, which was not nice for me to hear, but I don’t claim that concept as someone who will only just be setting up shop as a legitimate psychic in my 70s. I love this movie.

Btw, if your gorgeous superstar husband isn’t devoting his directing career to showcasing how weird and off-putting you can be on screen, just know that’s a choice.

Dreaming is so cool and important. I’m really serious about this. Dreams are what artificial intelligence companies wish they could sell us: a theatrical repository of everything you’ve ever experienced, plus everything you haven’t.

Dreams are how we process being alive and how we speak to ourselves. They’re full of wisdom and ideas. They reveal our own secrets to us, and show us how to build a loving world inside of ourselves and outside of ourselves, whether we remember or not. Every night, the show must go on.

It makes sense to me that we don’t remember all of our dreams by default, based on how heavily a dream can linger through my day and how often I interrupt my own stories with “wait, I might have dreamed this.” Dreams vanishing feels like a protective baseline. But it’s so COOL that when we choose to open the door to our dreams, the knob turns easily. A speakeasy!

Attending to your dreams is a skill any kid can learn: writing them down, trying on their symbols, deciding what they mean, even waking up inside of them. It doesn’t cost anything besides the bravery to meet yourself, which explains why certain cultures call it boring or noise.

If you try with your heart and mind, your dreams will speak to you. But you don’t need to remember them to be grateful for what they do for you every night. Thank you dreams!