On Frenzy, Devotion

In 2024, my friend Summer wrote 50 days of Stacked, a series of newsletters where she watched and wrote about episodes of Supernatural that released on the day her newsletter went out over the show’s fifteen year run—yes, because of the person that I am, I was catching up on some of these newsletters over a year after they were sent out.

For Day 41 (8.05), Summer discussed frenzy. Specifically, she named the harried urgency of falling into obsession, “acting without thinking,” and finding the spaces to expound upon one’s frenzy. As she names herself in that dispatch, Supernatural is her longest frenzy. Something I admire about Summer is how passionately and deeply she thinks and writes about Supernatural. And not just her smart, cogent analysis of the series, but also just her true, unfettered love for it, which exists alongside her critiques of the show.

I do not think of myself as someone who cares deeply about things, and I’d even argue that I am not capable of the depth of passion I’ve seen friends show for their media or hobbies. When I’ve expressed this sentiment to friends, they’ve pushed back with examples of projects I’ve been involved in, or other interests I’ve expressed. It’s not the same, though. When I think about this level of devotion, I am talking about love for something that is free from obligation or other external gain (e.g. financial or social gain etc.). 

Even at the height of when music was core to my life, much of my relationship to it was obligatory, not devotional. As someone who intended on majoring in music education, my performance was expected. Thinking about visual media, I am notoriously someone for whom it’s easier to name the short list of movies I have watched versus those I haven’t—name a movie and chances are I haven’t seen it. If I do return to a piece of work, I’m usually referencing it for writing or some other creative project. 

However, there are two properties I’ve returned to again and again: The Magnus Archives and Shigatsu wa Kimi no Uso (Your Lie in April). I might write about Magnus at some other point, but back to music for now. Released in 2014, Shigatsu is an anime following a former piano prodigy who lost his ability to hear the notes he plays after his mom, who was also his teacher, died. Once a staple in his local piano competition scene, he’s been absent for some years until his friend tasks him with being the wingman to another friend who’s interested in dating a violinist. 

When I’ve talked about Shigatsu as my favorite show, one of my friends pointed out that she was surprised that my favorite show was a love story. Yes, the characters are in their last year of middle school—ninth grade in the Japanese system—so there are explorations of romantic relationships. I concede that it’s a love story, and fully support this reading, but I think it’s far more interesting a read to say the primary manifestation of love is the devotion the violinist and pianist have for music. Music is their frenzy.

I first watched the show while also in high school alongside friends whom I was in band with. At the time, the repeated refrain we’d say to one another is that the show made us want to practice. The pianist, unable to hear his own playing, can no longer rely on the regimented structures of the way he was taught to learn music. Instead, he is encouraged by the violinist to release himself from the document the composer has left with their sheet music and to play with feeling. In my early viewings of the show, the hook for me was the music itself. As I got older, I was drawn back in part by nostalgia, but also the sheer passion undergirding the motivations of these characters. 

In life, I find myself attracted—not explicitly romantically—to people who are passionate about something whether that be interests, creative endeavors, or something wholly different altogether. Partially, I think I find the novelty of something I don’t experience attractive, but also! To love something deeply and passionately unrelated to the demands of Capital? Hot!

Here at the top of 2026, I’m not going to make any sort of declaration that this is the year I find my devotion. But, I intend on returning to trombone this year, not out of obligation, but desire. More broadly, I want this to be a year I dive more wholly into creating; my own little counter to my dread about generative AI. Maybe more of that at some other juncture. At any rate, I hope you have a frenzy, or find a new one, or, if you’re like me, begin leaning into something motivated solely by your own desires. 

For your consideration

• Speaking of Summer, pre-order her debut poetry collection The Hungering Years dropping 2/24/26. From the copy, “The Hungering Years conjures startling landscapes where we may also experience what it is to be consumed by obsession.” I’m very proud of Summer and I hope you’ll read with me

• On devotion, I recently finished the novel One Yellow Eye by Leigh Radford which follows scientist Kresta Shelley in the wake of a zombie plague. During this period, her husband was bitten and she keeps him hidden in the months following while trying to find a cure. Yes, it’s a zombie novel, but it’s without the spectacle of the zombie. It’s more a meditation on grief asking: What moral and ethical lines would you cross for the one you love? 

• On creating, I’ve made an Instagram account with the same name as this newsletter. It won’t be one to one between these two mediums—that is, what I write here won’t necessarily be on the feed and vice versa—but I hope you’ll consider following along for my periodic creations in time