Wednesday, December 20, 2006

December 20th - Peacoats and Pocketchange

I'm hurt that after several months on ifilm, my genius "doodoo dance" film has only gotten 45 views. I think that's an all time record for the least amount of views in the history of the website. Anyway, while the upload quality isn't terribly good, here's the link anyway (feel free to watch it multiple times in trying to make it look like a popular video)

In other news, I recently put in my applications to teach English abroad next year through the JET program and Princeton In Asia. The earliest I'll probably hear back from either is in late January. My brother Lane applied to JET as well, so if all goes well, maybe the both of us will be living together somewhere in Japan by this time next year indoctrinating Japanese youth with forbidden knowledge on how to be crazy like a Robbins bro.
Meanwhile, I'm still working at Beaumont's satellite billing center. I think I can feel a tumor taking shape inside of my head from all the countless hours I've spent in front of the computer. I can't tell if it's the hypochondria or if I'm really developing carpal tunnel syndrome. There's a young guy in the office who wears a brace on his wrist as a result of our taxing line of work, data entry. I'm actually at work right now as I write this.
Lane, I, and Emily all went to see Jeremy Enigk in concert (formerly of the seminal band Sunny Day Real Estate) the other weekend. While I haven't really been a fan of going to shows for quite some time now due to the endless standing and awkward eyeball exchanges with all the hyper-conscious teenage and twenty-something scenesters, Mr. Enigk was a pretty passionate guy (which can only be expected when you're one of emo's founding fathers). Since the concert was at the Shelter in Detroit (a rather intimate venue), we got to stand right up at the front of the stage merely inches (maybe a foot) from Enigk's face. When he opened his mouth to sing, even though I knew what his voice sounded like, it was still a surprise hearing such soothing melodies pour forth. He just doesn't look like the kind of guy capable of emitting that level of prettiness. Needless to say, it was a cool show. We followed it up with a late nite stop at the coney island in Royal Oak for some fries and rootbeer. Actually, Emily ordered a milkshake, but who's keeping track...
Speaking of Emily, it was her birthday last Wenesday. It was a bittersweet day - she had to go home to St. Clair for her Aunt's funeral, but she also got accepted into her first law school (not to mention that it was an amazing UFC fight night). Her and I went out for what we anticipated to be a fancy meal at Fiddleheads on Friday night, but the service was poor probably due to the fact that they were closing up in an hour and we looked like two 18 year olds that probably wouldn't tip well, not to mention that one out of my four pumpkin raviolis didn't even have anything in it. Fuckers.
In case you're wondering, my burgeoning mixed martial arts career is going well. I've been training brazilian jiu-jitsu and Muay Thai out at a gym in Commerce Twp for a little over a month now. It should only be a matter of time now before I step into the cage and forever put an end to my burgeoning modeling career.
Lastly, Lane and I finally put together my zine compiled of adderall inspired rants and doodlings primarily from my Freshman year of college (with some added bonuses of journal entries I did when I was 7, 9, 16, and various other ages). It's aptly titled "Jared's First Book". And now, I must depart. Sayounara, Quakers!

Friday, December 01, 2006

December 1st, 2006 - James Dean

James Dean was bisexual. It is well documented that he slept with many men and probably a much greater number of women. This kind of stuff had to be kept very hush hush back in the day, though, for if the public were to find out that the leading man whom men admired and women adored was actually a dandy, the world would have crumbled. The movie studio producing his films had to go out of their way to fabricate different headlines alleging Mr. Dean with various actresses to keep his bantering with boys on the downlow.
The rebel without a cause was only 24 when he died after colliding head on with another car while riding in his Porsche 550 Spyder, which he had affectionately nicknamed "Little Bastard". In addition to killing James Dean, the car and its parts would prove nothing but disaster for anyone that subsequently came into contact with them. This became known as "The Curse of Little Bastard", which went on for 5 years until the car mysteriously vanished on its return in 1960 to the original customizer, George Barris (who later went on to create the Batmobile).