Love Letters to Forgotten Things

In a basement lit by laughter and dragon lore, a shy kid found a seat at the table—and a glimpse of belonging. A thank-you to the dungeon masters who quietly changed our lives without ever knowing they did.

It’s the last hot day of the year – when summer exhales its final golden breath and the air smells like memories. This episode is a love letter to that quiet goodbye… the moment you feel time slip warm through your fingers.

A pause button. A whisper. A love letter that never left the drawer. Some songs aren’t meant to be heard—just felt, forever.

Pointlessness vs. Meaninglessness draws a gentle line between despair and delight — between hollow busyness and the humble joy of play. Through stories of forgotten hobbies and creative experiments, Bunny reminds us that “pointless” once meant free. This is an ode to the half-built models, the broken puppets, and the projects with no audience — to the wild, generous urge to make something that may...

We think we’ll remember forever—the laugh of a parent, the warmth in a friend’s voice, the way someone said our name. But voices fade. First the rhythm goes. Then the tone. Until all that’s left is a shadow in the mind, an outline where a person used to be. In this episode, we explore the bittersweet truth of memory and loss, from childhood moments before smartphones to the aching silence left beh...

"Before the Voices Go" is a song inspired by the Love Letters to Forgotten Things piece “Voices.” We remember faces, gestures, stories. But sometimes the first thing to disappear is the sound of someone we loved. Their laugh. The way they said our name. The ordinary voice we assumed would always be there. A song about memory, absence, and the voices we wish we could hear one more time. About the r...

You Stayed When We Left is an original song inspired by “Driveway,” an episode of Love Letters to Forgotten Things . It’s about one of those ordinary places that quietly becomes a witness to an entire life. A driveway doesn’t seem like much. Just concrete. A place for cars, bicycles, chalk drawings, basketball hoops, scraped knees, and whatever junk somebody forgot to bring inside. But over enough...

The First Person I Never Knew is an original song inspired by “Main Character,” an episode of Love Letters to Forgotten Things . It’s about one of the strangest realizations we can have as human beings: every stranger we pass is living a life every bit as complicated, emotional, ordinary, ridiculous, and important to them as ours is to us. The episode begins with a childhood memory of noticing a s...

I Made This For You is an Americana/country song inspired by “Childhood Burning,” an episode of Love Letters to Forgotten Things . This one felt like it needed roots. The episode comes from something that happened after my parents died, when I found a box containing more than a hundred childhood drawings, cards, and construction-paper creations I had made for them over the years. They had kept the...

You Walked In is a jangle-pop song inspired by “The One Who Walked In,” an episode of Love Letters to Forgotten Things . It’s about a blind date in the late 1990s that almost never happened. Both of us sat in our cars beforehand, seriously considering leaving. We had each been through enough romantic wreckage to know how easily another date could turn into another mess. I was told she was “perfect...

(Mixtape) Never Sent is a short, lo-fi indie song inspired by “Mix-tape Never Sent,” an episode of Love Letters to Forgotten Things . It’s about the strange intimacy of making something for someone who may never know it existed. For a certain generation, a mixtape could be part confession, part puzzle, part emotional survival kit. You chose every song for a reason. You worried about the order. You...

Hey, Hey Hiraeth is an original song inspired by “Hiraeth,” an episode of Love Letters to Forgotten Things . The song takes a slightly different approach than the episode itself. The subject is still heavy, but the music carries a little bounce. That contrast felt right, because hiraeth is not always a solemn feeling. Sometimes it sneaks up on you in the middle of an ordinary day. A smell, a song,...

My Favorite Game is an original song inspired by “Arcade Tom-Boy,” an episode of Love Letters to Forgotten Things . It’s about one of those almost-romances that never really became anything, but somehow stayed vivid anyway. The setting is an arcade in the 1980s: blinking cabinets, cold joysticks, quarters in your pocket, electronic noise everywhere, and one person who somehow made the entire room...

Something from the Sea is an original song inspired by “Coral Necklace,” an episode of Love Letters to Forgotten Things . It’s about the strange, fragile bravery of having a first crush before you really understand what to do with the feeling. At twelve or thirteen, affection can feel enormous while your vocabulary for it is still painfully small. So sometimes you reach for an object instead. A so...

Perfectly Preserved is an original song inspired by “Putt Putt,” an episode of Love Letters to Forgotten Things . It begins with a simple memory: one summer night playing miniature golf with my family. Nothing extraordinary happened. No great revelation. Just windmills, colored golf balls, cheap obstacles, laughter, and the people I loved all gathered together in one ordinary place. But memory has...

🎙️ Because eating under plastic domes used to feel like progress. Remember the fast food solariums of the 80s? Those glowing glass rooms where roast beef sandwiches felt like meals on a spaceship. In this episode, we revisit the sun-soaked greenhouses that made lunch feel like a field trip to tomorrow.

It cracked like porcelain, tasted like sweetened chalk, and ruined your best trading card – but it was always there. In this episode, a tribute to the brittle pink stick that tagged along in every wax pack and somehow made childhood complete. 🎙️ Because even the worst parts of a memory belong to the story.

A glimpse in a parking lot. A heart lurches. For a moment, she was alive again. In this episode, we explore those fleeting seconds when grief turns strangers into ghosts of the ones we’ve lost – and why part of us keeps looking anyway. 🎙️ Because some people remain possible, even when they’re gone.

What do we owe to the paper we keep? In Spiritual Audit , Bunny sorts through old notes, letters, and condolence cards like line items on a life’s ledger. Each scrap carries proof of love, grief, and belonging—but also the haunting question of whether memory lives in paper or in us. This episode invites listeners to reflect on the records they carry, the keepsakes that refuse to be thrown away, an...

It wasn’t cinematic. No slow-motion hero moment. Just a flash of fists, dirt in your mouth, and the quiet lesson of what happens when you’re not ready—and no one steps in. In this stark reflection on a childhood fight, Bunny revisits the moment he first learned that pain doesn’t always come with meaning, and strength doesn't always look like victory. A story about humiliation, resilience, and the...

Hidden down an alley, it was more than a club – it was a secret world of fog machines, eyeliner, clove cigarettes, and fleeting truths. This episode is a love letter to the dance floors and lounges that made us feel like we finally belonged.

There was no map, no sign, no trail—only a hushed memory passed from tree to tree. We called it the Druid Camp, a hidden pocket of pine and cedar where the air cooled, the light turned green, and time seemed to hold its breath. We built fences from fallen limbs, carved tools from stone and stick, and pretended we lived by sun and firelight instead of clocks and calendars. It wasn’t make-believe—it...

Before the world turned grayscale and sterile, there was the 1970s—where every room felt like a folk song, and every appliance came in chestnut or avocado. In this episode, Bunny takes us on a rich, sensory journey through the cozy color palette that made even new things feel like old friends.

The harbor has always felt like a place of safety—a spot where rope and wood, mast and chain, water and memory all meet. But sometimes what feels like an anchor is actually a release. In this episode of Love Letters to Forgotten Things , Bunny reflects on the quiet docks where nostalgia keeps us tied, and how every memory—every love letter—is both a keepsake and a farewell. This isn’t just about b...

We weren’t lying. We were becoming. Tracks, gravestones, and the sacred buzz of a night we never gave back.