The Art of Asking; or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Let People Help

Epilogue

I came back from Australia. I’d written way more material than I needed. I figured whatever was left over, I could blog.

Neil and I are still trying to figure out where we’re going to live. The intimacy/commitment Venn diagram continues to merge. I’m trying not to keep score anymore. I’m learning.

Anthony stayed fine for a while, but at the moment that this book is going to press, he isn’t fine. He stayed in remission for over a year; then the cancer came back. His doctors decided he should get the bone marrow transplant. He’s going to have it within a few months. Nobody knows what’s going to happen. He has a donor lined up, a perfect match, that person is a gift-giver of the highest order. The doctors say Anthony has a 40 percent chance of surviving, but who knows what that means. He’s also back on chemo. I’m not touring very much, in case anything bad happens. He also helped me edit the book.

Lee is still running the Cloud Club. He also helped me edit the book. I’ve kept my apartment there. It’s currently being crashed in by Michael Pope (who also helped me edit the book—and who is making a new, epic experimental film that will no doubt rope hundreds of volunteers into its vortex). And a few weeks ago my apartment housed an entire Bulgarian family.

Yana has a new job. The Australian government assisted her financially during her recovery and unemployment status. She took the donuts.

Gus is still making ice cream at Toscanini’s, but the Harvard Square branch closed permanently due to local construction. You’ll have to go to Central Square to get a scoop of chicory root or bourbon black pepper.

Casey is also still living at the Cloud Club. She’s painting and teaching art to preschoolers in Brookline.

Instead of getting yet another fish after Everything, Casey decided to adopt a cat from the Massachusetts Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.

She named her Something.