If there is any person who has been a part of this show without having actually appeared in it, it’s David Naimon. Back in episode 7, Rachel said she feels like “we’re in a throuple on this podcast with David” and then asked if we should finally invite him to join us. Well, we did, and this is it.

We start off in a very Between the Covers-ish kind of space, discussing form and genre in podcasting and how that all applies to the making of Hey, It’s Me. But by the end, we wind up in an extremely Hey, It’s Me place. After all, wild tonal shifts are what this show is all about.

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In today’s episode, Rachel and I are talking about in this one is neurodivergence, the stigma around mental health diagnoses, asking for what we need, and having to hold other people’s feelings.

It’s an interesting thing, making a show where there is such a gap between recording and release. Every episode becomes a bit of a time capsule. There is almost always something one or both of us has changed our minds about since we recorded, or that we no longer feel. Or, as in this case the situations in our personal lives or in the world at large have changed.

We recorded this episode in August. The election hadn’t happened yet at that point, obviously, but it was also still relatively early in Rachel’s son’s cancer treatment. We aren’t the same people we were at that point, and our lives don’t look the same—in some small ways, in some big ways.

We have recorded a conversation about the election, so you know. That will be released at the end of December. It’s possible by then that the things we say in that episode won’t be relevant anymore, or won’t represent how we think or feel anymore. But that’s okay. This show has always been more about the process than the end result. As we’ve said: we don’t know what we’re doing, but we’re doing our best.

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I am always so happy when I get the chance to talk with Sarah Gailey. They’re now officially part of the Four Timers Club on KTCO (along with Rachel Zucker), and I couldn’t be more pleased about it.

For this latest conversation, we talked about Sarah’s new novella, Have You Eaten?, which follows a group of four young, queer friends as they traverse a collapsing America, and which asks the question “What does it look like to take care of each other in a time of crisis?” It’s a question that feels so urgent right now, and for a while now. Sarah and I talked about the experimentation in fiction, vine-ripened tomatoes, cooking as an act of care, and what apocalypse means. And in the second segment, they almost made me cry by being nice to me (though they would vociferously deny that “being nice” was what they were doing, and fair enough), and then we talked about sin-flattening and high-control groups, and the necessity of interpersonal repair.

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(CW: cancer, grief)

After the message you heard in the previous episode, it understandably took some time for things to get to a point where Rachel and I could sit down and record a conversation. When your son gets diagnosed with terminal cancer, it changes a lot about your life. But eventually we did find a time to talk to each other about what her life has been like since her son’s diagnosis. It is, as you might expect, a difficult conversation. But I suppose that is what we’re here for.

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(CW: cancer, grief)

It’s kind of a strange thing to be making a podcast that is more or less about just ourselves, and one of the stranger parts of it is recording the episodes so far in advance of when we release them. The version of us that you hear in an episode when it posts is not the same as the one living in the world on that same day. That’s always been true, and it’s always true of any podcast. But Rachel’s life has changed a lot recently, and in very difficult ways, and it’s felt a little weird that the show hadn’t caught up to that yet. Well, now it has. Rachel’s son has cancer, which she found out not long before the message she sent me that we’re sharing as this episode.

This episode is different from our previous ones, in form and in content. It’s kind of hard to listen to—though, at that, not as hard as living through the things Rachel talks about. But if this show is about us, then this is where we are right now. Or, at least, it’s where we were at the time we recorded these messages. Life continues to proceed, often painfully, sometimes with spots of peace or joy or levity. We don’t know what we’re doing, but we’re doing our best.

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I had a chance to read Rachel Edelman’s debut poetry collection, Dear Memphis, this past spring, and I was struck by how familiar the feelings and questions of these poems felt to me. Questions about what it means to be from a place where you and your people are held apart. About what heritage and inheritance mean, about the difference between exile and diaspora and migration. About being part of a minoritized, oppressed group that nevertheless experiences privilege, and sometimes participates in the oppression of others. About what home means. For Edelman’s speaker, these questions arise from being Jewish in the South. For me, similar questions arise from being Japanese American. It’s not the same, of course, but the way our experiences seemed to rhyme intrigued me, and led to a wonderful conversation about the book, about self-awareness, and about connection through letter-writing.

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For September’s first episode of Hey, It’s Me, I wanted to talk about Chappell Roan’s album The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess. More specifically, I wanted to talk about why it wasn’t quite hitting for me, despite being a breakout hit and despite the fact that I both appreciate and admire it. That led to a broader discussion about participating in culture that isn’t your own, and how respectful distance can be problematic.

Then, for the second episode, Rachel sent me the audio for a forthcoming episode of Commonplace, in which the guest was her undergraduate photography mentor, Lois Conner. I should note here that that Commonplace episode is still forthcoming, so you can’t listen to it yet. But I think that our conversation about the episode is still interesting and comprehensible without listening to Rachel’s conversation with Conner, because we’re talking less about the details of the audio and more about things like the nature of photography, why we make podcasts, and what it means to give attention (and to want it).

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Jennifer Baker has been one of the people I’ve looked up to for a while as a model of literary citizenship, so when I heard that she had a YA novel coming out, I immediately pre-ordered it. Forgive Me Not is a powerful and insightful book about the American carceral system, as well as a moving coming-of-age and family story.

The story follows Violetta Chen-Samuels, a high school student in New York City whose life has gone off the rails, culminating in the death of her younger sister in a drunk driving accident that Violetta caused. In this version of New York, juvenile offenders are given the option of enduring Trials—a sort of codified form of “tough love”—instead of incarceration. But despite being intended as a reform of the criminal justice system, the Trials, too, are harsh and retributive. Forgive Me Not delves into the harms of our carceral system, and how race, class, gender, and other systems of marginalization interact with it, and ultimately the question of forgiveness and punishment.

Jennifer and I had a great conversation about how she approached writing her characters, why it was important for her to focus on systems rather than individual guilt or innocence, and how to write about serious topics for younger readers.

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Rachel and I are trying to commit to a two-episode-per-month schedule for Hey, It’s Me, and so far it’s going pretty well. For our first episode in August, I asked to talk about Star Trek, and particularly what it was about the more recent series that didn’t really feel like Star Trek to me, even though I have been enjoying them. As always, we wandered a bit far afield from that premise, to conversational spots including Star Trek as personal foundational text, cozy fiction, optimism vs. hope, and the cultural role of motherhood.

For our second episode, Rachel sent me the first section of her novel-in-progress so that we could discuss it. If you’ve been listening along, you’ll have heard us mention the novel a few times before, but one piece of context that might not have gotten mentioned is that the book’s main character is named Rachel Zucker, and another major character is named Mike and talks exactly like me. As many of our episodes do, this one does get a bit meta. But I think that there’s also some really interesting discussion about the art-making process, not to mention that the dynamic between two friends trying to talk around and into a sort of challenging topic. I am really interested to know how this episode in particular strikes listeners.

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I’m pleased to welcome writer Rachel Lyon back to KTCO for a conversation about her latest novel, Fruit of the Dead. It’s a compelling and (I thought) chilling contemporary retelling of the Persephone myth, told from the perspectives of Cory, a young woman seduced by extreme wealth and privilege, and Cory’s mother, Emer, who has to go looking for Cory after she seemingly disappears one day. The story is about addiction and sexual assault, about power and class, about mothers and daughters, and about what it means to have agency and to come of age. I thought it was incredible.