Help us bend
the curve.

Amanda and I finally have a path back. Now I need a little help building the runway to reach it.

Let Me Earn the Help We Need.

Amanda's surgery is officially scheduled for August 17th.

Her expected return-to-work date is September 7th.

After approximately three months without her regular paycheck, income should finally begin returning to our household around October 2nd.

That's enormous progress.

October 2nd isn't financial recovery.It's the day financial recovery can finally begin.

After three months without her normal income, we'll reach that first paycheck carrying overdue expenses, October's new expenses and the remnants of everything we've been trying to hold together along the way.

Right now, after groceries, we have approximately $45 in the bank.

We're behind on $1,000 rent. Insurance is coming due. Vehicle registration needs to be paid. The phone needs to stay connected. We need gas, laundry and basic household necessities.

We're still waiting to learn whether Broadspire or Minnesota Paid Leave will provide assistance.

So yes... Amanda and I need help.

I Don't Just Want Your Donation.

Give me the opportunity to create something for you.

I've spent my life making things.

Music. Art. Ideas. Businesses. Marketing. Stories. Experiences.

I've made people laugh. I've helped people remember. I've helped businesses communicate. I've taken things that existed inside someone's head and helped turn them into something they could actually see, hear, share or use.

My health has temporarily taken away some of the ways I used to earn a living.

It didn't take away my creativity. It didn't take away my brain. And it sure as hell didn't take away my desire to earn my way forward.

That's why I created the Bending the Curve | Fight Forward Supporter Collection.

You can absolutely make a direct contribution if that's what you want to do. Every dollar helps us close the gap.

But you can also choose something personal, meaningful or useful and let me create something in return for your support.

Why I'm Still Fighting

I recently had the two infected teeth removed that had been part of this long health battle.

And shortly afterward, my body gave me something I hadn't experienced in a long time.

For about two days, I was able to spend time without being tethered to oxygen. That alone felt incredible.

Then one evening I cooked dinner for Amanda and me. Chicken in the air fryer. Jasmine rice boiling on the stove. Nothing fancy. Just dinner at home.

And then, for a few seconds... I smelled it.

A hint of the chicken. A little jasmine rice drifting through the room.

I stopped in the kitchen and actually teared up. Because scent is one of those extraordinary gifts most of us spend our entire lives taking for granted. Until it's gone.

That tiny smell made the apartment feel warm. Homey. Comforting. Almost healing.

And more importantly, it reminded me:

Maybe my sense of smell isn't gone.Maybe it's just hidden from me while my body continues fighting this infection and inflammation I've been battling since November.

I've had respiratory flare-ups since then and I'm back on 24/7 oxygen again.

So this isn't some “miracle recovery” story. The tubing is back. The awkwardness is back. The discomfort is back. And the stress of everything we're dealing with is certainly taking its toll.

But now I've been given something I didn't have before.

A glimpse. And a smidgen.

A glimpse of breathing more freely. A smidgen of smelling dinner cooking in my own home.

A tiny preview of the life I'm trying to fight my way back to.

And that's enough to keep me moving forward.

And Eventually... The Mugician Returns.

Music has been part of my identity for most of my life. Right now, my lungs get the final vote on when I can fully step back into that world.

But those two tether-free days showed me something. The few seconds I could smell dinner showed me something too.

I'm still in here.

The guy who creates. The guy who performs. The guy who cooks dinner for the woman he loves and fills the house with music and food and noise and life.

He's still here.

So music isn't gone. It's waiting. And when I'm strong enough, there will be music experiences inside this collection too.

Why This Collection Exists

I could put a donation button on a page and stop there. And there is absolutely no shame in asking for help when life knocks the legs out from under you.

But if I can create something worthwhile for the person helping us... I'd rather do that.

This isn't a traditional store. There isn't a warehouse full of products. There isn't some faceless corporation behind this page.

There's Amanda. There's me. There's a surgery on August 17th. A return-to-work date on September 7th. A first expected paycheck around October 2nd.

There's an oxygen concentrator humming beside me again. There's a financial gap between where we are today and the point where normal earned income can finally begin carrying our household.

And somewhere in there... there was a pot of jasmine rice, some chicken cooking in an air fryer, and a few precious seconds that reminded me what I'm fighting to get back.

That's the bridge.Every direct contribution helps build it. Every creative project helps build it. Every person who shares this page helps build it.

And every time somebody chooses one of these supporter experiences, I get to do something incredibly important to me: participate in our own rescue.

I'm not asking you to buy something because you feel sorry for us.

I'm asking you to look around. See if there's something you've wanted created. Something meaningful. Something useful. Something you've been putting off. Something for someone you love. Something for your business. Something you've always thought would be cool but never knew who to ask.

Let's Make Something.

You help Amanda and me cross one of the hardest stretches of our lives.

And I'll do everything I can to make sure your support leaves something good behind in yours.

Want to Help Without Ordering Anything?

That's okay too. Our GoFundMe remains open for anyone who simply wants to contribute directly.

And if neither is possible right now, sharing this site costs nothing and may put it in front of the person who needs exactly what I can create.

We're Not Done.

Amanda is moving toward surgery and returning to work.

I'm healing from the dental extractions and doing the best I can with the uncomfortable reality of being back on 24/7 oxygen.

For the first time in months, though... I've seen a glimpse. I've smelled a smidgen. And I know there's still something on the other side worth fighting toward.

Now I'm doing what I've always done when life throws up a wall: I'm looking for a way through it.

This collection is part of that way.