for fucking real.

so, it's confession time.
i have this friend.
and we've lost touch, you know?
but, i know that her man keeps a blog.
when i miss her- and i do miss her,
i check out his blog.
sometimes he posts pictures of her.
and i'm comforted by how she looks just like she did when we were tight,
drinking margaritas together,
running together with the sun coming up,
or that one year when it seems like all she did was pick up the pieces of me,
over and fucking over again.
tonight's one of those nights.
see, i'm coming off a 4-day bender when all i feel is misunderstood by the folks around me.
she'd know what to say tonight.
say, shit. really she'd just know how to look at me and it'd be alright.
she's there in his blog tonight.
but just like most of his posts, i have to dig deep to find her,
buried underneath all the references to new shit they've bought,
or the fucking 8 million pictures of their house remodel.
she's in the corner, right?, like he snapped the shot and said, fuck, jess. you're in the shot.
you're in the shot.
but, i'll take that.
the glimpse.
i don't like all the shit, though.
and it reminds me of why i worry about her.
cuz, what the fuck.
stuff together never equals a life together, but man, you two are trying real hard,
to make that formula work.
i wanna click on the blog one day and be real surprised.
i wanna see him seeing her. and her seeing him back.
and i want all that for her, and for me, and for fucking all of us. right?

submedia rocks.

this is some of the best sh*&%@t around.

take a look at it.

diana

ain't she cool?

cellophane

my grandpa died not too long ago. it had been over a year since i'd last seen him. about ten years ago he made videos for all of his kids and grandkids. we each got our own. they are these amazing compilations of old super8 video he'd shot of us as kids, but the best part is he taped himself looking at all my grandparents old photo albums of all of us. so, this video is narrated by him as he's looking at all these pictures of me and my mom, and other folks. and, like a lot of people i bet, hearing his voice on that tape as he talks about me being a cute kid and my mom being just a kid herself or talking about my gram with curlers in her hair...that stuff feels like gold to me now.

people ask if we were close when i tell them he died. i don't know how to answer that. he let my mom come back home when she was homeless and i was just a few months old. he adored me. when i grew up he didn't really understand me. it was enough for him to hear through my grandmother that i was ok through the years-we didn't need to talk much.

he mattered to me.

about two years ago, with the help of my friend daniel, i made this short movie about him-here it is.