Tag Archives: friends

My Room from Rose Pacult

15 hours of footage compressed 2k x speed into 5 minutes looped with audio recording of my mom singing things to me in my room.

made at 3045 N Southport Ave, Chicago IL 2015


Celebrate Valentine’s Day

love Valentine’s Day is approaching, and that means insecurities and anxieties are approaching, too.

Aside from the consumerism that has morphed into the “holiday” that is Valentine’s Day one must separate the romanticism from a meaning that can be found in the day.  Valentine’s Day is an opportunity to express your appreciation for a person, or persons.  First and foremost, the relationship can be of any sustenance.  It can be a friend, a lover, a relative, a spouse; the titles are limitless.  Valentine’s Day should be seen as an opportunity to remind someone why he or she are in your life, and what they mean to you.  This does not mean an extravagant gift by any means! If anything a material gift can detract from the truth being communicated.  Take the time to write a card, a poem, a letter, a note, a package to someone you care about.

If you are struggling to channel your romantic spirit and need to say something sweet to someone you love, may I make the humble suggestion of Pablo Neruda’s Love Poems, or ee. cummings, or Sylvia Plath’s Love Letter, which is a personal favourite of mine:

Not easy to state the change you made.
If I’m alive now, then I was dead,
Though, like a stone, unbothered by it,
Staying put according to habit.
You didn’t just tow me an inch, no–
Nor leave me to set my small bald eye
Skyward again, without hope, of course,
Of apprehending blueness, or stars.

That wasn’t it. I slept, say: a snake
Masked among black rocks as a black rock
In the white hiatus of winter–
Like my neighbors, taking no pleasure
In the million perfectly-chisled
Cheeks alighting each moment to melt
My cheeks of basalt. They turned to tears,
Angels weeping over dull natures,
But didn’t convince me. Those tears froze.
Each dead head had a visor of ice.

And I slept on like a bent finger.
The first thing I was was sheer air
And the locked drops rising in dew
Limpid as spirits. Many stones lay
Dense and expressionless round about.
I didn’t know what to make of it.
I shone, mice-scaled, and unfolded
To pour myself out like a fluid
Among bird feet and the stems of plants.
I wasn’t fooled. I knew you at once.

Tree and stone glittered, without shadows.
My finger-length grew lucent as glass.
I started to bud like a March twig:
An arm and a leg, and arm, a leg.
From stone to cloud, so I ascended.
Now I resemble a sort of god
Floating through the air in my soul-shift
Pure as a pane of ice. It’s a gift.

Lena Dunham Snug Time

“I thought about you the whole time, I promise”


We started this soiree back in April of 2012 when Lena Dunham first introduced Girls to the public.  Spooning on a 1970’s era felt couch I never experienced being more at home than those days with Naomi.  We had known each other for years, but we didn’t really know each other until we started watching Girls.  It became a routine of spoon-feeding each other freshly baked Funfetti cake, giggling, crying, and spooning on Sunday nights.  We were new roommates, and Girls brought an exciting dimension to our relationship.

But things change.  People change.  People have to move on.  Episodes turn into a season, and a season turns into seasons.  My beloved Nay left Chicago for the West, just as people had to watch loved ones leave on the Oregon Trail for new horizons, I watched Nay settle in LA.  I moved too.  Settling in Poland from our little nest in Chi Town.  Things Change.

I made a promise to myself, no matter where I ended up, with whoever I would end up with, Girls would remain a Naomi and Rose endeavor.   Watching Girls on that felt covered couch instilled a tradition I wanted to last a lifetime.  I vowed that when the third season came out, I would find a way to make it to another couch, to Naomi’s couch, to watch the season just like we did before life happened.

I made it three weeks into the third season of ignoring reviews, ignoring blog posts, ignoring conversations and tweets relevant to the phenomena.  But damnit, I was not strong enough.  Late in the night, nearing the blinking hours of early morn, I succumbed.  I broke down.  I heard Jenna was in rehab and I needed to know and I needed to know then.  I don’t have any excuses, I do, however have deeply haunting guilt.  HBO GO soothed my anxieties, calming me into a few clicks until the brilliant Dunham creation splashed across the screen.

Naomi, I thought of you the entire time.

When I laughed, knots twisted in my intestines.  When my eyes became heavy with wet salty tears, a wispy ghost squeezed my hand to calm me.  Naomi, I felt you there.  Around 4 AM I broke down.  Pausing the show was one of the hardest things I did in those two hours, but I managed to do it.  Shamefully, I sent the text “Hey! Are you watching Girls?” In my heart, I knew she probably was, nestled into some other person’s couch.  Laughing and crying, just like we once had.

She didn’t text me back.

I heard through a third party source, her boyfriend, my brother, that Nay was watching Girls. But Nay and I, even when apart feel the eternal stronghold Girls has on relationships: she watched it alone, just like me in the depths of that guilt stricken evening.  I told my brother to pass through the grapevines that I had thought about her, the whole time.

I like to think she thought about me too.

Now, I don’t know if I will watch the next episode coming this Sunday.  But the likelihood is high.  The Girls pheromone transmits at a frequency too high for anyone of sane mind to deny.  All I know, is that I’m gonna call that girl, Naomi, and ask her to maybe Skype me.  So despite the physical distance separating us, we can still be together, nearly back snugging on that felt couch like all those years ago.

We can do this.