Dukes in Durham - April 25, 2007

If I were in a band, we'd be called "Dukes in Durham". And if I had access to a filesharing program and a cd burner, this is the mix cd that I'd burn:

The Divorce – Yes
Greg Laswell – Amazed
Camera Obscura – I Don’t Do Crowds
Rogue Wave – Be Kind – Remind
Akron/Family – Shoes
Of Montreal – Bunny Ain’t No Kind of Rider
Fleetwood Mack – Never Going Back Again
Chris Garneau – Baby’s Romance
The Finches – Last Favor
Loney, Dear – I Am John
Page France – Windy

And, if I continue to write anymore right now, I'm gonna be a dead man. It's 8pm and I've now been at BRL Billing for 12 hours trying to rack up as much overtime as I can before departing.

$617 to Bangkok - 4/20 (snickering)

Oh man, oh man...I just bought my one-way airline ticket to Thailand after procrastinating for weeks now. Over the past few days, the cheapest flights I'd been able to find were for around $760, but then this morning I stumbled onto one for $617 and pounced on it without reading any of the fine print, so let's hope that I'm not $617 the poorer without ending up in Bangkok. The flight is through Thai Airlines and also happens to be non-stop. I wonder if 17 hours and 10 minutes continuous on an airplane will turn me into a vegetable. Speaking of vegetables, I put in a request for a vegetarian Asian meal just to be safe.

Princeton again, streaking, PB&J, and bribing a Mexican guard - 4/13/07

So I'm back in Princeton again, this time for my TEFL (teaching english as a foreign language) certification. I left at 6:20am this morning with Thomas, another kid in the program who happens to attend U-M, and we made it here in 9.5 hours. Thomas is from East Lansing, speaks 4 languages, once drove to Montana by himself in a straight shot so he could go hiking for a week, and a few years back went streaking through a lecture hall at Michigan State during an organic chemistry exam with two of his friends wearing nothing but a wool hat and a bandana covering his lower face. He was also nice enough to pack us PB&J sandwhiches along with some home made cheese bread with squash on top and a bunch of fresh fruit.
Anyway, like last time, I'm in the library again killing time before our class begins at 6:30. I think Thomas and I are gonna go crash on some couches like vagabonds to recharge before the action begins.
In other news, I failed to mention that a few weeks back Emily and I took a trip down to Florida so she could visit the University of Miami. We stayed in Ft. Lauderdale with my Aunt Roberta, where one morning the climax of our trip occurred when Emily got lost running in the identical looking subdivisions. She had to bribe a Mexican guard in order to use his cell phone and call me. After accidentally hanging up on her the first time and some miscommunication about which subdivision she was lost in, we were reunited and she wasn't very happy. That's all for now, I'm off to nap.

April 2007 - Congratulations

Dear Jared,

We are so pleased to be able to send you to a place we think is a good fit. So this is it! The official email that says Congratulations - you have been offered a post with PiA for next year. I am really excited to be able to tell you this and as we discussed we have you earmarked for the position as a lecturer at Chiang Mai University in Chiang Mai, Thailand. We are sure you could do a great job anywhere, but the post in Chiang Mai came up as the first choice!

Princeton in Asia

So the cosmos aligned in my favor and through some weird stroke of luck, I'm going to Thailand this May for at least a year to teach English and become a Muay Thai champion (though I've been warned about the prevalence of HIV in the country, so blood transfusions might pose a slight problem). There you have it, I'm off to the land of hot trannies and happy-ending massages (note: that's what anthropology majors call exoticizing the other).

My First Jiu-Jitsu Tournament - Feb. 24, 2007

I took 4th out of 16 (though I was ahead 7-0 on points in the 3rd place match before sort of giving up).

Can you say "JARED'S GOT A NEW MUSIC VIDEO"...

http://www.ifilm.com/video/2823916

1/19/2007 - Afterthoughts in the afterlife

So my interviews with Princeton in Asia went well and I think I probably got the gig. I'll either wind up in Chiang Mai, Thailand, or Penang, Malaysia (familiar to some people as the setting for that Vince Vaughn film, Return to Paradise). Anyway, if I am accepted, it will be a tough choice. Penang has amazing weather, a fabulous beach, sweet accomodation, and better pay. Chiang Mai meanwhile is a significantly more bumpin' city inundated with vespas, Muay Thai, and happy-ending massages. I'm still waiting to hear back from the JET program in Japan, though, so that might be an option as well.
After I returned to NYC, I made my way back to Yonkers for a brief interlude with cousin Greg before going out with Mike and his girlfriend for the evening (and by going out I mean that we never made it out of her 4 x 5 ft apartment except for a 35 minute roundtrip trek to a club with a cover charge well beyond our means so we turned around and left). Anyway, when I got to Greg's apartment, I found him sitting on the couch engrossed in the playoff game between the Colts and Ravens on tv. The best part is that he had a Colts' baseball cap and a Ravens' baseball cap placed on the table facing off in front of him.
"Greg...are you serious?" I began. "There's no one else around to even witness your spirit"
"Whatever Jared. Just because you wake up in the morning and no one else is around doesn't mean that you sit around naked all day. Right?"

He had a point.

1/13/2007 - NYC & Princeton

So I'm in Princeton, NJ, right now killing some time at their university library before I head in for my interview to see if I'm good enough to qualify as an international fellow. Funny, I already thought I was an international fellow being that I've been around the world a little bit. Anyway, I don't know what to make of this campus. I'll tell you one thing, it really sucks when you have to poop while traveling, because it never seems like there's an available place to go when you need one, especially on a college campus, so I always tend to search out the closest library wherever I'm at and seek refuge there. I had quite a time just getting to Princeton to New York. I almost got on the wrong subway back in the city, wasted a ticket, barely made the train out of NYC, and then didn't have time to buy a ticket before boarding a $2 shuttle to the campus and therefore had to pay an extra $5 for purchasing it after already boarding the shuttle. I stood in the pseudo-light-sun showers after deboarding the train getting my bearings for a moment and debating whether or not I was feeling intimidated being amidst an ivy league campus. Being the overcompensator that I am, I just decided to start being ultra critical of everyone I passed instead. I flew into NYC on Thursday afternoon and hung out with my cousin Greg. He's a 33 year old big kid who never really matured beyond his college goofball self, and together we went to one of the top 5 largest malls in America just outside of Yonkers. That night we watched "Fearless" with Jet Li and practiced our Chinenglish (kind of like Spanglish, except that neither of us really speak any Chinese, though Greg did study Mandarin for a bit and lived in Singapore for several years among many other countries - he truly is an international fellow). Yesterday I met up with my friend Mike who recently graduated from NYU film school and works freelancing as an erotic fiction writer for magazines such as Penthouse in addition to serving as a production assistant on various music video and other types of film shoots. I killed the rest of the afternoon at the Borders right next to Madison Square Garden perusing through a GRE study book and researching my potential trip to Puerto Rico with Emily at the end of February.

New Year's Eve in Chicago - The End of 2006

Max at least provided some amusement by putting a gigantic hole in the wall of the Marriott Hotel stairwell after attempting to save Emily’s friend, Jen, from taking a disastrous spill herself. Jen, the girl we stayed with during the weekend, had quite the New Year’s Eve. She got a bit too drunk and then had the genius idea to smoke hash, leaving her in a bad state puking all over Emily’s friend, Calvin’s room at the Marriott. Jen had no qualms about pulling the trigger several times in attempting to aid her puking process, and she did it with a relative ease and familiarity that sent off warning signals in the head of her friend and fellow cast-mate in the off-off-broadway show, Spellingbee. This friend, Christine, who happened to be high on hash herself, proceeded to freak out in believing that Jen was bulimic. The conversation went something as follows:
“Oh my god, Jen, you’re fucking bulimic. I can’t believe it. You’re fucking bulimic.” Christine screamed as tears soon began to follow. She was high, mad, sad, coupled with some other indiscernible emotions rolled into one ball of weirdness.
Emily chimed in while sitting on the bed watching the fiasco unfold. “She’s not bulimic, she’s just drunk. You need to chill out.”
Un-phased, Christine continued with tears streaming down her phase. “Jen, how can you do this to yourself? You’re fucking bulimic. I’m calling Kristin and telling her. This is a serious problem.”
Jen, not exactly functioning in top form, wags her finger at Christina. “It’ll be our secret.” She slurs. She obviously has no idea what’s going on.
“Christine, are you insane?” Emily asks. “She’s not bulimic. I’ve seen millions of girls do this before. Obviously you never went to college.”
It’s too late, though, as Christine has already begun leaving a message on Kristin’s voicemail with a firm resound that Jen is bulimic and this must be remembered in the morning after everyone sobers up.
We all split soon afterwards. Christine refused to leave with us and abandoned Jen to our devices in getting home. Getting back to Jen’s took forever being that it was New Year’s Eve and impossible to hail a taxi, so we were forced to take the “L” with Jen iron-clasped to Max’s arm and puking every step of the way. Happy New Year.
Oh, on an end note, there was this adorable little black pug named “Olive” that belonged to one of Jen’s roommates and constantly insisted on wedging itself between Emily and I while sleeping together at night on the world’s most narrow couch. Olive was adorable, but she smelled kind of bad and snored. Emily hasn’t stopped talking about wanting to get a French Bulldog for the last two days.

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)

http://www.ifilm.com/video/2752099

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!

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).

The Days of Office Work

I work at an office, a medical billing office, where I sit at a computer updating addresses for hours on end - hours that I'll never get back. I dream of being a mixed martial arts fighter and have listened to over 75 episodes of This American Life on NPR. I've listened to so much This American Life that I've begun relating everything in my life back to the stories I've heard on the show. I basically moved into Emily's apartment (Emily being my girlfriend) which is 5 minutes from my parents' house where a racecar bed and trillions of stuffed animals still occupy my room.

A Joke

What did the leper say to the prostitute?
Keep the tip.

The Fight - A delayed post from mid-April

They're not really interested, maybe because I'm not telling the story
right. You can't blame me. It's my first time telling it. But maybe
it's because they're reacting how normal humane people should react
when hearing a story about a stupid fight. Honestly, what good
reasons do kids have to fight on college campuses?
Anyway, I got in a fight last night. I'd be lying if I told you I
really knew what it was about. There was this kid on my friend's
porch being confrontational, and so I sauntered up looking to get in
on the fuss. I'd like to say that I broke the kid's nose because he
was dropping f-bombs (that oh so hateful word faggot), and I've even
possibly deceived myself into thinking he swung first. Who are we
kidding? I'm so sexually frustrated that the aggression has to come
out some how, this kid was up to no good, and so that was that. I've
never been in a fight before; plenty of wrestling matches, but never a
fight. My fist just kind of acted on its own accord when it cut
through the air and connected with his face. Then when he tried to
retaliate, it was only natural that I headlock him to the ground
before resorting to the ole' ground and pound. I hesitated at first
before throwing those blows while he was under me. I think I even
offered him the opportunity for a ceasefire, but it wasn't meant to
be. I connected at least three solid times while on top of him, then
people were pulling me off, but nobody bothered to restrain him as he
tried to attack me again. My glasses got knocked off during the
ruckus, though luckily someone found them, even if they were severely
mangled. It wasn't until after I had left the party did I notice his
blood all over my favorite Addidas jacket.
So I try and recap the story for my friends this morning, but it
doesn't go as planned. They're not really as interested as I
anticipated. For Christ sake, these are the kids that talk about
their close calls with fisticuffs weekend after weekend. So here it
is, my actual brush with fisticuffs, no close calls this time, and
they don't even care. Maybe because we're all about to graduate from
college and this shit doesn't matter anymore. Before telling them,
though, I debated internally whether or not the incident was even
worth sharing, kind of like deciding whether to share the scoop after
getting with a cute girl. The truth is, I don't know how I feel. I
don't really feel anything. They might not be interested, but it was
still an interesting experience. Now I can die knowing that I've at
least been in one fight. The bloodstains on my jacket have washed
away, and in a short while I'll be off to have my glasses fixed. The
proof will be all gone, but the legend shall live on.

long time no speakeasy - May 22, 2006

A letter to my British friend

Yo, buddy, it's been a while. But then again, we're not supposed to be great at this whole correspondence thing (as you so eloquently once put it). Anyway, I'm a university graduate. Pretty crazy, I know. I've been done with school for about a month now and I've done absolutely nothing. I can't even manage to get a job waiting tables in Ann Arbor, even with a college degree. I told myself I'd find a job and dedicate my summer to reading and writing, but about three weeks ago I met this girl and my whole plan went awry. I always figured that getting myself a girl would provide me with a muse and the necessary inspiration to write my first hit screenplay (let alone first screenplay at all)...quite the contrary my friend. I've never been so content with being such a bum. I can't get a job, but at least I got myself a pseudo-girlfriend (we're very touchy about the labels). She even came back with me this past weekend to meet my parents, which turned out surprisingly well. Other than that, I have zero plans for the future. I'm quickly running out of funds, which proves difficult when trying to support a burgeoning alcoholism. At the very least, if all else fails, I've decided to move to Colombia with a friend in September. She has a job teaching bilingual education there with a place to live on the beach, so I figured I'd accompany her along and stay there for as long as it takes to become fluent in Spanish. Hopefully my Latin background will prove useful. Beyond that, I was thinking about interning at a film production company or potentially pursuing a masters degree in documentary filmmaking a few years down the road. My schedule is pretty open for the rest of my life and I'm not too picky, so if you know of any jobs or happen to be looking for a partner in crime, let me know. I'll fly out to London, Berlin, or Bosnia first thing in the morning. Let me know what's up man, it's been quite a while and it'd be great to hear from you. Take care in the meantime.

Some day in March (the 19th to be precise), 2006

Nobody reads my blog because nobody knows it exists. I guess that's sort of liberating in a sense because that means I can write whatever the fuck I want and it doesn't matter. So instead of sending emails to myself all the time with notable quotables and random other shit, I might as well just post it on here.
Random quote #1 (and I'd rather not remember the pedantic text from which I lifted it): An individual's capacity to make sense of the world presupposes the existence of collective traditions; but individuals must be able to experiment with these collective traditions by being allowed to live at their limits.

So yesterday I drove down to Ohio to see one of my friends from studying abroad in Australia, the famous Daniel Sgrizzi. He was touring the East Coast with his band Make Me, and they were playing a show right outside Cleveland at some high school kid's house. It was a surprisingly awesome show. It was also nice to see Sgrizzi again for the first time in close to ten months. As fate would have it, the guitarist from the band they were touring with, Flagship Niagara, was a kid I'd met briefly through a mutual friend two summers ago at New York University. Though I'd only met the kid for a few minutes, I recognized him by his incredibly distinct tattoos. After the show, we crashed at the Make Me guitarist's aunt and uncle's house who live in the old Rockefeller ranch (whatever that means). What I do know is that it was an awesome house in the middle of nowhere and the family raised fighting cocks. Now I'm back in Ann Arbor again trying to finish up the semester so I can go nowhere fast. Nowhere can't be any worse than hear though, and I hear they don't have Latin there either.

December 11th, 2005

Yesterday I blew out my tire on the highway heading back home from Ann Arbor to check out the Berkley wrestling tournament. In light of the unexpected turn of events, I stopped by to see Poppie who appeared to be more unhappy than I’ve ever seen him. It’s because they have him basically locked up in a drab hospital room in a building filled with people who passed their prime back when central park was a flowerpot. I wonder if there’s a more feasibly humane way for him to live out the remainder of his life. Never in a million years did he ever fathom life would be like it currently is for him, and the scary part is that he’s making me realize it at only 21 years of age.
I went out to lunch with Auntie at Rams Horn before dropping in to see the ‘rents’, who while might have been happy to see me, as usual expressed it in the most conceivably opposite way. Upon returning back to Ann Arbor later in the evening, Allen treated Brian and I to an extravagant feast at Red Lobster. We filled ourselves up on lobster, crab, shrimp, heavily buttered biscuits, grilled trout, mashed potatoes, veggies, and of course I washed it all down with my usual order of cherry coke. And also as usual, Allen made all sorts of indecisive revelations on topics ranging from food, to girls, to teleportation, and of course circling back to girls again.

Laners & I at Marshall Fields  

Latin, menial work, autumn, and aimlessness - excerpts from letters

WHAT DO I DO?

I spend time with my roommates, watch a few movies here and there, lift weights,occasionally work at the dining hall, am constantly bombarded with questions about future plans, and study latin. I turned 21 on Monday and got a blender, a juicer, some new chord pants, and a nice shirt and tie. I also got a pictureframe that I put a polaroid of me and my parents in. Lane's currently visiting from his Buddhist Monastery abode in California for mine and my father's birthday. Daddy dearest turns 60 tomorrow. Not a whole lot else going on,though I keep trying unsuccessfully to find time where I can take a trip somewhere.
I didn't observe Rosh Hashana or Yom Kippur, so I guess that makes me a bad Jew (not that I ever do). I've been too busy thinking about things that I have to do but can't bring myself to do. I often feel like I'm headed down a path to homelessness. Intensive Latin is overwhelming (even though I don't even do as much as I'm supposed to for the class), and I get nauseas thinking about the applications I have to fill out for internships and jobs for when I graduate (even though there’s only two and both are relatively easy). I don't know how I'll ever survive. It’s a running joke in my life that I lived in a plastic bubble until just recently. Present times for me are like being in a Woody Allen movie with all of the neurosis, minus most of the fun.
I gave my friend Allen (the Australian exchange-student) a concentration pill a couple of weeks ago in the hopes that he would write a screenplay we mutually conceptualized. Considering I haven't been able to write one to date (because God knows why), the plan was for him to write a masterpiece that we could both take credit for and become famous. He would do all the work, I'd do all the musing, and together we'd ride one another's coattails all the way to the top. I guess I'm always looking toward other people to save me, but maybe one day I'll learn the moral of the story that says only I can save myself (or Jesus, depending on who you ask).

Sometime in late August...

I've been back home for about three weeks now and I've had so much time on my hands, I don't know what to do with myself. School doesn't start for another few weeks and I haven't been able to get a job, but that hasn't stopped me from hopelessly applying for a bunch. I've been watching tons of movies, doing a bit of reading, eventless hanging out with friends, and much staring at the wall. Did I mention that I've been looking at tons of internet porn? I probably should have left that part out.
In case you're interested, here's a summary of how the rest of my travels turned out in Fiji: From the moment I stepped off the airplane I felt like I was getting royally hustled. My flight out of Melbourne had been delayed a day and I hadn't been able to get in touch with Dan and Chris. I was greeted at the airport by a bearded Fijian woman who mysteriously knew me by name. She swept me away to her office and I found out she had been the travel agent for my friends. She told me I owed her $67 cash for an up-front deposit and was supposed to meet Dan and Chris on some island the following morning. I was forced to pay in cash, there was no receipt, I had no way of getting in contact with the guys, and my ATM card miraculously stopped working. Meanwhile, some girl that I had just met on the flight over named Anna was waiting for me while I tried to sort through all the nonsense. Turns out she was the past president of JCH college.
Somehow things wound up working out, and somehow Anna and I had to share the last bed left at some shady hostel that night. When we walked into our room, there was some guy just standing in there naked. Mind you it was a multiple-person room, but this guy made no effort to throw on any clothes even after acknowledging Anna's presence. Total weirdo.
The next morning I set off for Mana. It was like paradise, except that I got sick on my second night and puked up everything in my system. While on the island, we stayed at this cheap lodge but kept leeching off the resort and all of their activities. The first night I won three times at Bingo for a grand total of $35. At coconut ice cream making the next day, though, I got busted for being a backpacker and they kicked me out, but not before I got to have my ice cream. Because we were backpackers eager to save money any way we could, instead of taking a proper boat from Mana over to Beachcomber, they put us on the smallest ghetto jetboat while the weather conditions were terrible. The waves were incredibly choppy and I'm pretty sure I broke my tailbone, not to mention that I might have just as well jumped in and swam by how soaked I got during the ride. One of the waves hit me so hard that I was knocked straight backwards and almost out of the boat. Another near death experience was while watching the fire twirlers at a bar one night. Three times the flame stick flew out of the twirlers hand and landed in the audience, once even setting a guy's clothes on fire. Don't worry, though, the flames for those shows aren't typically as hot as a normal flame. 
After Mana we went to this crazy party island called Beachcomber. Instead of picking up any cute single girls, we managed to befriend this 24 year old associate professor of neuroscience from Ottawa who was getting harassed by this shady guy from LA all night. I also sort of won the chess tournament on the island earlier in the day and was rewarded with a free jug of beer that I couldn't even really drink because my stomach was still recovering from the bad fish that I think I'd eaten the night before. Dan and I and Chris were the only three that showed up to the chess tournament at first, then some other random stragglers, I beat Chris, he beat two other kids, I refused to play another game because I was mentally drained, so I won somehow. We also played tons of scrabble (the weather was pretty bad outside). I still had two days on the mainland after Dan and Chris left, so I spent them latching onto this British couple.
So that's Fiji in a nutshell.