The first character I ever remember making up was a girl named Aurora, who I started telling stories to myself about in second grade. She was a princess who lived above the clouds in a ~magical sky kingdom and had a pet unicorn and was betrothed to a super handsome dude who looked kind of like Tuxedo Mask in breeches. Seriously. It was pretty much the girliest thing ever, except for the part where she and her parents were locked in an eternal war with a bunch of giant sky-rats who occasionally kidnapped Super Handsome Dude and tortured him hideously until Aurora rode in on her magical unicorn and kicked their asses. I remember being really interested in the torture parts, because seven-year-old Jason loved ponies and ruffles and sparkles and GORE. I never wrote any of these stories down- pity, I bet they were awesome- and they have mostly disappeared from my head, but I remember the basic outlines of the world. Rainbows! Sunshine! EVERYBODY DIES.

Oh, and also I gave this Aurora chick blue hair because I read a book which featured a girl with blue hair and I thought that was just about the neatest thing in the world, further proving that I haven’t really changed much since elementary school.

I was thinking about this before, and began to wonder if the book actually existed or if I’d just imagined it. So I Googled “books about blue-haired princesses” and got… surprisingly few relevant hits. Clearly this is a niche market just begging to be exploited. Eventually I found the book in question, which was written by Carol Beach York and called Good Charlotte. I took a look at some of the reviews. I now know how to boost my eventual book sales with little to no effort. The next novel I write will be called Simple Plan.

So maybe not. But I’ve been getting my ass kicked for the last few weeks ON A DAILY BASIS because I’m not half as athletic as I thought I was and also, who knew that the Spiderman suit would be really effing hot on the inside? So now my blog has no substance BUT it gives me a place to think about the things that I am actually not a massive failure at (like distracting myself):

I am a creature of many talents- I can bake pumpkin spice cookies and peanut butter cake, recite “Jabberwocky” from memory, impersonate Tim Gunn (badly), lie, sustain debilitating injuries at whatever job I happen to have, put up with people even if I don’t like them that much, provide running commentaries on Tarantino movies, clean up after people who are sick and vomity, dance like Michael Stipe in “Losing My Religion,” make toast, get barrier at concerts, remember all the lyrics to “Konstantine” even when I’m drunk, build card houses, play “Saturday Night” by the Misfits on bass, overanalyze novels and occasionally short fiction, win at Scrabble, and assemble fantastic playlists for any and all occasions. Also sometimes I write things that are mostly not true.

so it was as dark as it gets in berkeley and i dressed to thrill.

So today I got up at four, like you do, because I’d agreed to shoot this ~thing for these crazy kids I met at UCLA – TL;DR they were like JASON YOU ACT and I was like, sometimes? And so I am apparently doing something pro bono for a bunch of my amateur directing peers and have probably pissed off the SGA but this is probably the last chance I’ll get to play around with cameras before I disappear into the Shroud of Silence that is Spiderman.

I am a Nice Person. And mostly, I get paid to wake up at four in the morning and tool around in parking lots and then I get paid for it, if not in money than at least in foo. I was in a pretty good mood, despite the whole morning thing- God, mornings are so unholy I want to KILL THEM WITH FIRE – and despite the fact that one of the dogs threw up on me this morning and I kind of always think, anytime either of them gets sick or sleepy or does that dog thing with the lolly head that they’ve gotten into my ganj/PERFECTLY LEGAL TABACCO and I’ve accidentally killed one of them and it’ll just end badly so I sit around and pet them until they assure me they’re not going to keel over when I hit the door.

SO. I put on my headphones, walked up the hill to bus my way to Berkeley, walked out to a sort of sketchy lot or something and promptly came face to face with the dude whose short film~ I’m supposedly starring in, because I am a STAR, at which point this guy gives me a totally freaking sweet gift to thank me for doing this thing that I would probably do anyway, regardless, because I love tooling around in the dark et al, see above.

So then he gives me a cupcake.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I asked.

He wasn’t.

Thus started the best fucking day ever, basically, most definitely the best day I’ve had since I watched other people get drunk at karaoke while I had like, freaking sweet tea or some junk. Which was about three-four days ago, so my days are just getting better. BUT. Here’s a rundown of other things I did, all of which aren’t as great as eating a cupcake:

- Bought purple pants. (This was an accident.)

- Had an Embarrassing Moment at the sex shop up the road:

Sex Shop Dude: Blah blah blah let me tell you all about comic books AND ALSO we have a sale on today, how about that!
JASON: Oh, yeah, dude, just slip that plug right on in there OH MY GOD I SHOULD NEVER TALK EVER.

- Attended an Arty Film Screening. Particularly enjoyed the First Film Ever of some chicks I went to UCLA with last year, which was a parody of cheesy 70s sci fi and included Carnivorous Space Moths. Also liked the one about the dolls who killed people.

- Got drunk with a bunch of students and learned, for the umpteenth time, that the quickest way to an art kid’s heart is to tell them that visual arts programs require way more work than any other program in the world, ever.

- Shortly afterward, had a surreal encounter with an equally drunk dude who I christened Mr. Badtouch for his apparent inability to keep his hands to himself. WHAT IS/WAS WRONG WITH YOU, MR. BADTOUCH, NO YOUR HAND DOES NOT GO THERE. >:(

- Ate the best cupcake in the history of time. Seriously. Nothing will ever taste better to me than that cupcake. It had pink frosting and everything.

Yes, I’m a feminist. Yes, I consider patriarchal society to be a detriment to the human race, not just one half but as a whole. Yes, I believe that misogyny exists in the trans community (as it does in pretty much every community) and needs to be examined, yes, yes, yes.

But if you call yourself a feminist and yet see the choice of transpeople to transition as selling out to the patriarchy? FUCK YOU.

In fact, let’s take this a little further.

If you call yourself a feminist and yet denounce sex workers as selling out to the patriarchy, FUCK YOU.

If you call yourself a feminist and yet denounce women who choose to practice BDSM as selling out to the patriarchy, FUCK YOU.

If you call yourself a feminist and yet denounce women who choose to be stay-at-home moms as selling out to the patriarchy, FUCK YOU.

If you call yourself a feminist and yet dismiss racism as simply an outcrop of sexism (thus dismissing issues particular to women of colour and further alienating them), FUCK YOU.

If you call yourself a feminist and yet see the choices of other women (and, in fact, men- because men can be feminists, and transguys are men, see how that works?) as subject to a rigid code of conduct beyond “consensual and safe”, FUCK YOU.

Because if you call yourself a feminist and any of the above apply to you, you’re part of the fucking problem.

I’m not saying that no one should ever critique, say, the leather community, or the trans community- after all, no choices are made in a complete vacuum, and society does influence our choices, and (to an extent) our identity. But feminism is supposed to be about choice. Not just your choice. Not just what you think is “okay.” Not just what passes your damned muster. EVERYONE’S choice.

Besides, if someone goes through a procedure as expensive, extensive, invasive, and stigmatizing as transitioning, you better damn well recognize they’re not just pissed that their moms never bought them Tonka trucks.

This rant brought to you from the If You Don’t Know Jack Shit About Something, For God’s Sake Don’t Make An Ass Of Yourself Trying To Look All Sympathetic And Stuff Diner, with a side order of “I can’t believe I still have to explain this shit!

AND ON ANOTHER NOTE. It is not okay to disregard a girl’s thoughts, opinions, or art just because…

… she slept with someone!
… she slept with a lot of someones!
… she slept with someone you want to sleep with and IT’S NOT FAIR!
… she wears “slutty” clothes (what does that word even mean)?
… she likes boys!
… she likes girls!
… she likes boys and girls!
… she looks “girlish.”
… she looks “boyish.”
… she doesn’t look the way you want her to look.
… she doesn’t say what you want her to say.
… she’s cis.
… she’s trans.
… she’s not the same race as you.
… she has tattoos.
… she has a handbag and a tiny dog.
… she’s thin.
… she’s fat.
… she knows someone famous.
… she might have fucked someone famous.
… she has a blog in which she occasionally mentions someone famous.
… she has or has had an eating disorder.
… she’s an immigrant.
… she works in an industry you personally consider degrading (the fashion industry, the porn industry, the sex industry, whatever).
… she’s a virgin.
… she’s not a virgin.
… she’s religious.
… she’s not religious.
… she had an abortion.
… she has kids.
… she’s young.
… she’s old.
… she did something at some point in her life that you wouldn’t have done, or would have done differently, or would have been smarter about, et cetera ad infinitum.

Can we as a species move the fuck on from this bullshit notion that men are people and women are types? That only the “right” kind of girl (and what’s “right” for a girl changes all the time anyway) deserves our time and attention and respect, and all other kinds are disposable? That a girl is only as good as her stereotype, or her reputation, or the length of her skirt, or the colour of her skin, or what her job is, or what she looks like, or how much boys like her, or how closed she keeps her mouth, or how closed she keeps her legs?

COME ON.

Classing up L.A., one palatial estate at a time.

So! The Golden Globes got me a little nostalgic, and now I’m on memory lane as well as on my blog, so hey, join in! I should be embarrassed to admit this to anyone, but I used to keep all the award I’d ever won on top of my fridge next to a box of Kleenex and (usually) a bunch of bananas. The first time my mom came out to visit me in the City (L.A., it was a Big Freaking Deal way back when I left Rhode Island again), she’d remarked casually on how neat I’d been able to keep things (even though I hadn’t) and complimented the location of the apartment (which was over a take-out in WeHo and maybe a little bit left of respectable). But when she got to the kitchen portion of the impromptu tour (there were three rooms!), she’d stood for a full three minutes in slack-jawed awe as she saw my Big Freaking Deal coveted awards lined up neatly above the freezer full of fish sticks.

Apparently, as I gathered during the successive My Son Does Not Appreciate Anything of Value lecture, you’re supposed to put those in a special case. So on the day that she went back to Providence, after fixing me with a steely-eyed Mom Glare and informing me that I basically don’t deserve nice things, ever, and probably other people who are less dickish and ungrateful than me would have found a nicer place for their BAFTA, I toddled off like the good son I am in search of A Nicer Place for My Trophies.

I’d lived in L.A. for about six months at that point, though lived in this context should be taken to mean that I’d been paying rent for an apartment I saw for three hours a day a couple of times a week, maybe. That portion of the Jason Bellamy Experience is over now, though, since I’ve moved on up in the world to Tobyfox’s palatial estate and in that time, I’ve been able to realize that I have basically no concept of what California looks like.

So! Today, all drunk off my Golden Globes fever, I spent three three solid hours wandering and trying to stay out what shadows were floating around at ten in the morning and keeping my eyes more or less to the front before it sank in that I’m actualfacts living in the ritzy part of Los Angeles. It did comes with the picturesque lawns and relatively low crime rates! As opposed to where I’ve been living since about 2006, which was more likely to be voted as a Best Place to Live if maybe the polls were run by drug addicts and graffiti connoisseurs. Within my first ten minutes of walking through my old neighborhood (which I’d been assured was pretty safe, and which I took to mean that there hadn’t been any massive gang wars or knifings going on in the street), I’d heard at least seven ‘scores’ ‘going down’ and was hit up twice for spare change by ridiculously cordial homeless men.

If you’re curious: my trophies are still sitting comfortably in their Place of Shame on the top of the fridge. Except now I don’t have the bananas and I’ve gotten a fancy plastic cover to go over the Kleenex box.

So, a compromise! Instead of waiting around for It to Get Better, I present an Official Jason Bellamy Short-Form Musical Video Production, available for download for a nominal monetary fee ($2.00US a pop!) from this here blog, WHICH you can also access through CBS.com WHICH may also link you to iTunes in the coming days for a slightly higher price maybe? All proceeds go toward six LGBTQ youth groups across this great nation of ours, willing and able (more able with more donations!) to provide a safe space for LBGTQ youth. Obviously. Hence the name!

SO. Without further adieu, “This Too Shall Pass”:

SO, okay, I’m not like a ~vain dude or whatever, mostly because I’m too awkward to start the kinds of conversations that would end in ‘oh my God Jason you are just the foxiest thing alive/fox-Fox pun/I can’t even look at you, that’s how cute you are right now’, BUT, I am remembering the last time I sold my body and I’m sorry, but LISTEN, I am worth a lot, okay? So, because I’m really civic-minded and all about the charity and stuff, I’ve done the necessary research to build you all a compelling case for Why You Should Want to Take Me Out:

We are Foxes!

1. I’m married. Okay, so, maybe this isn’t something that necessarily sounds like something you want to get on, because I can’t even dole out the sloppy drunken smooches (but this is mostly because I don’t drink, not because of the marriage deal because hi, I’m a free bitch and Tobyfox is probably a swinger or something), but me being married should totally sweeten the deal for you. Why? Well, it shows that I can commit, because I’m commited FOR LIFE to this one thing, but think about what that means for our date – for the whole time you’re with me, I will be literally ALL ABOUT YOU, which means I’ll carry your purse/murse/handbag (because though I am mostly not a fan of the penis, this date is going to be totally sexless either way, so hey! I am open to any and all gender presentations) and probably I’ll also pay for dinner! DISCLAIMER: I’m aware this date might not actually involve a dinner, but if it doesn’t, I will totally bring you a granola bar in my own murse. BASICALLY, what you need to take from this is BECAUSE I’m married, I’m good at being considerate and kind and totally freaking whipped. NEXT.

Look, mostly shirtless!

2. I’m a nudist. This doesn’t need a whole lot of explaining, because hey, the thrall here is that I am totally naked a good chunk of the time, so unless we end up going to like Frou Frou Von Pricey-Chic’s House of Solid Gold Flapjacks, we can totally be naked together! It won’t even be sexy, BUT IT COULD BE* The thing that you should take from this on a deeper level~ is that you can be totally free and easy in my company SO no fancy dress/makeup/grooming/manscaping of any kind required for An Evening With Jason Bellamy – we’ll be naturalists and we’ll like it and everyone will feel so relaxed that it will be almost stressful! Which brings me into my next point -

Obviously enjoying some herbal. Obviously.

3. I have been known to enjoy the herbal. WITHOUT GOING INTO DETAIL, because this is a very, very public forum and I still sort of want to pretend like my grandma wasn’t at my wedding therefore didn’t get to experience how fantastically herbaled out all my interactions with my peers/not my peers/my family/my life-partner~ are. Also, you know, the herbal under many other names is still sort of slightly scandalous in our North American society, SO to quickly summarize: 1. I have it. 2. I use it regularly. 3. I share so, so much. And I will share with you!

I drew the design but did not in fact paint it onto my own chest, I fail.

4. I’m too artsy to even exist, basically, which includes but is not limited to my passion for fashion~, my thing for randomly slapping paint on stuff, and you know, that like acting thing I do sometimes? Basically, if you haven’t experienced any of my fashion, you are missing out, but you also need to know that I make my own clothes, and I can make you some too! You will be so fierced out by the time you finish with me, because I will literally KNIT YOU A PONCHO with homespun wool (not spun by me, but one of my arsty art-school friends because we work in a fair trade economy with each other and I get the wool while she gets my homemade wine). If that’s not your bag, I have recently gotten into BODY PAINTING SLASH PHOTOGRAPHY, so we can work out something that combines both the nudity and my love of the painting and my love of the herbal and my love of cameras and you will leave feeling SO CREATIVE. FINALLY, if that doesn’t work for you, I AM AN ACTOR, which means that if all my personality traits are too crappy for you to even live with, you can send me a short character description a couple of days in advance and I will TOTALLY TAILOR MYSELF to suit your needs.

If you don't buy me, I'll get sent back to the pound!

5. Finally, I’m super cute and I think everyone else is cute also, so I’m already amped to go where I go with whoever I end up with, but what you need to remember about me is that I am actually SUPER INTO CHARITY, so. Vanity or whatever aside, I just really, really want to make sure that I’ve done everything possible to get as big of a donation possible for as many charities possible because seriously, we can afford to dig deep.

SO. If you got through this and don’t want to date me or like, steal me away from my husband and make me live in your pocket, wtf. I don’t even know what to say to that, except SAD PUPPY EYES, I HAVE THEM. (See above).

* but it won’t because of the married thing, HOWEVER, I totally won’t even try to stop you from ogling my sexy, sexy bod if you so choose~

so this is my phone! SERIOUSLY. i'm not cheap, i'm just eccentric.

Confession time! I still have one of those cell phones where you have to push buttons like three times while the letter’s still highlighted in the little Black Box of Doom or the word won’t get spelled basically at all, and I don’t know how to use T9 because it just baffles me, honestly, SO. Yes, that’s the phone I’m working with right now, even though various Very Important and Trustworthy sources tried really hard to use the recent rash of random-ass phonecalls I got recenty as an excuse to replace my phone. Which I bought in 2005. ANYWAY, the important part of this is that right now, I’m typing this blog on that phone, so everything above and below and including this has been typed with me sitting here poking the crap out of the little buttons with my big meaty paws in three seconds or less.

Why am I doing this? I’m INSANE, for one, and also apparently really into torture because I have to delete every second word completely because I’m just too anal and manic and now super into posting things with typos ever. But mostly, it’s because I just realized I haven’t even touched my precious, precious, anti-Tumblr blog in about two months and this needs to end! Why? Because my blog is my baby and you are all, as readers, the momentary caregivers of that baby, like I’m a super neglient parent who just heaves the kid off on the steps of a Blockbuster and hauls ass out of the parking lot in time to get to the 7-Eleven before they stop selling lotto tickets.

SO given that I love my blog, it’s aready weird enough that I fell off the face of the earth, but it’s also pretty weird since the last two months have had a lot of Big Life Events for me. LOGICALLY, you’d think that I would be sitting in the corner at some fancy industry parties furiously scrawling down notes about my evening~ so that I could write some awesome true-to-life prose about the little details of my Fancy Industry Life. But instead, I woke up this morning at a not-insane hour and looked around and was like what.

What.

It’s August? How is that even possible, what happened to July? It actually scares me a little how much of a non-exaggeration this is, because I have a Secret Paranoia About Growing Old, like one day I’ll wake up in the twilight of my life and realize that I missed everything because I was working too hard. SO. Let’s have awesome, postivity-riddled time for reflection, where I forget about working for maybe ten minutes (while on the way to work) and update the world on what I do when I’m not busting my ass for no reason.

Wedding! It’s Bliss! – so on July 12, I was lucky enough to recruit a ton of ~celebrities and boringmundanefolk who birthed me and stuff to come out to Vermont just long enough to watch me join in the legalest possible union with young Tobias Fox. Which, in turn! Has damned me to a life of people mistakenly thinking that I’m an actualfacts Fox at this point! But I’m not! Stop sending me credit card applications with the wrong surname because I think that means I can’t legally apply!

So What Did We Learn From This? – what I learned is that it’s actually possible to get people to come chill in a field if you’re inviting them to celebrate your love, because everyone wants to celebrate other people’s love – I love celebrating love – AND that I’m now in a position in my life where I can sit down and muse about things philosphically. Being married is like being in a big field, tripping balls and hoping it doesn’t rain, but with one person and forever, in as much as if you think about being in a field with one person for hours upon hours and it doesn’t scare the crap out of you, you’re probably in it for the longest possible haul. So when I go home to sleep for two hours in Toby Fox’s palatial mansion before going back to work, and I’m not thinking things like ‘ohmygodhowamigoingtostayinthisfielditcouldRAINpossibly’, it just reinforces that marriage is probably the best life choice I’ve ever made for myself and I will never actually stop being so deliriously happy that we opted for it, ASAP, so as to maximize our time~ together.

And What Else? MARGINAL NEGATIVITY TIME – SO I am beyond stoked that Prop 8 has finally freaking been opposed hard enough to make the people who have control over that kind of thing re-evaluate the feasibility of continuing to oppress that silly equal rights thing into the future. I am so stoked. There were victory laps and a Red Bull toast and lots of clapping, so yay, Death of Prop 8 Celebrations! But. But. This is my only issue, literally a month after I moved my ass over to Vermont, and flew a bunch of people who live in California to Vermont, because that’s the only place I could find that would let me get married outside of freaking Canada …it becomes legal. In California. Where I’ve lived for about half my life. And this is totally just an Alanis Morrissette kind of Ironic thing, where it’s not actually ironic and just inconvieniences me slightly, so in summary, YES for equal rights! DAMN for the timing!

My Working Situation in 100 Words or Less to Round This Bitch Out -
1. Yes, I’m Peter Parker! YES. Once again, the Gods of Timing have decided to confer with the Gods of Awkward Press Releases to make sure that this comes out right at the beginnings of the really, really irritating but not unexpected cries of OH MY GOD NEPOTISM that follow the whole legal binding~ to a big-time Hollywood director/actor/screenwriter/etc, to which I say wtf he didn’t write Spider-Man, get out.

2. Burlesque wraps on August 15 and then I never have to wear nail polish again, except when I really want to for a fancy evening or a cocktail party or whatever, and I am more pumped to watch the finished product than anything else, so coming this fall~ you and me and everyone around us can go and enjoy taking in my first sort of indie-ish film (in awhile) together.

3. Criminal Minds resumes filming for the sixth season in maybe two weeks, so I’ll go from busyish to BUSY OH MY GOD and thrive on it because I’m insane, like I said, so! You can help to enable my workaholic disease by prepping yourself for the season premiere on September 23.

Peace out~
jbellamy

my main man glows like a thousand suns OR leftover from that time i painted him

It is either earlyearlyearly or latelatelate, but I could not possibly tell you which! Because I’m pretty sure that I was still awake, maybe waking up, at this time yesterday (?) And I would love to fill this paragraph with waaaahmylifeishard, but it is not, in fact, difficult at all for me to work stupidly weird hours and run myself into the ground to satisfy my sick, mostly masochistic need to keep myself working as much as is physically possible. Technically, TECHNCALLY, summer – in as much as summer ever happens in California, which is not at all ever even – is my break period~ wherein I’m supposed to mostly rest and chillax and regroup so that I’m fresh for when August rolls around and we start shooting for the September debut. This is in no way a secret to anyone who would tell me to rest and chillax and regroup, but my past four summers have been filled with ridic busy-work meant to keep me from going into a coma of boredom and unproductive feelings. Summer 2010 is shaping up to be my busiest in recent history, and SO I offer, to gain some perspective, Jason Bellamy Will Have a Heart Attack Before He Turns 30: Summer 2005 versus 2010.

2005: I Re-Enter Hollywood By Nuding It Up and Somehow Get a Pilot WTF

Okay SO, as the internet will tell you, I opted to deal with not being cute anymore by first, taking off MOST of my clothes and awkwardly filming people in the bushes (and also filming plastic bags, but w/e) but then by moving back to my homestate to be normal and work at frigging Jamba Juice until I could no longer stomach the smell of exotic fruit. My grand reentry – because there’s no way you can follow semi-nude with anything other than either full frontal or SIMULATED BLOWJOBS – was shot during this summer, when I spent most of June/July trailing around the desert-y states with Felicity Huffman on our Transamerica(n) voyage. Because it was produced by wonderful people and filmed with equally wonderful people, it did a great freaking job on the award circuit~ but I’m an ungrateful ass and skipped out on all that in favor of begging people to cast me as one half of a serial-killing/rapist duo for like, twenty minutes of screen time in a pilot that had more or less just been optioned and had no actual people attached to it outside of MANDY PATINKIN (!!!) and SO, long story short, apparently I didn’t stop being a total spaz in the time I went to go and learn to be worldly~ so I knocked over a chair and walked into a door during my audition and then I became Spencer Reid and the whole rest of my summer was dedicated to shooting that pilot on a wing and a prayer and went on to get viewershi of like, 19 million people. And feed and clothe me and stuff.

2010: I …Do So Much Shit That It’s Kind of Mind-Boggling and KICK ASS.

So currently, currently, I am spending my time waking up earlyearlyearly or latelatelate, or maybe just not sleeping at all. That is not just because I like to punish myself with freezing showers or evenings of trying to wash makeup unlike any kind of makeup I’ve had to wear before off of my face – with the possible exception of Aliceing it up, which was actually shockingly easy to clean up after! – but because I am currently filming~ an upcoming feature film~ that is mostly an awesome freaking time (because being on set is always an awesome freaking time, what am I even saying) called Burlesque, which will come to you at some point in the new year? I believe? FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, DON’T QUOTE ME ON THAT. In any case! I ran to this set, located wonderfully close to my abode~, about a week after I finished filming another beautiful, good-vibe-ish-ful feature film. This week was full of things like Cannes! And Australia! And then sleeping forfuckingever because who can even work after living what borders on a lifetime (mentally) in France/Australia? No one! (Except me, because sleeping pisses me off mostly!)

(two paragraphs? ohmygod) So also, because again, breaks are like offensive to my delicate sensibilites, I’ve got these grand plans for a good time at the June 20, L.A. concert portion of the Coach Benefit to support the Red Cross. Combining a cause with my workaholism seems to have benefited me in the past, like, a lot, because altruism is a grand thing, so please join with me in feeling the warm fuzzies of helping people and come on out to the show. Starting this summer, I’m also engaged! No date yet, probably a few months from now because I’m busy living life large and stuff, but I will most def. keep you posted as details arise~

Peace out, Cub Scouts!

have some more for your trouble, that was one tiring read.

1. The Offspring – Pretty Fly (For a White Guy)

This is basically my life except with a do-rag.

2. Lit – Miserable

There was a time when I just sort of wanted to like, make a tiny (huge) nest of all the Pam Anderson memorabilia in the world and just like roll around in it while clutching a homemade Baywatch VHS to my chest.

3. Eve 6 – Inside Out

So ANECDOTE TIME when I was in high school AP English because I totally did go to high school sometimes, just not the prom or anything super awkward like that, this guy essentially printed out the lyrics from this song and the song that is about to come below it and wrote them on a looseleaf or five and handed them in as ~original poetry~ to a teacher who, you know, OWNED A RADIO at the time, thus heard these SUPER POPULAR SONGS and was like wtf, guy? (WHOSE NAME I REMEMBER but am not releasing so as to protect his lame ass from internet shame).

4. Incubus – Wish You Were Here

SEE ABOVE.

5. Korn – Falling Away From Me

There’s no actual amazing and creative anecdote to throw in on this one, it was just my favorite song during my senior year and sometimes when I’m wondering what the fuck I have left in me to throw on celluloid these days, I like to sit down in a dark room with the heat turned way up and like, get under a desk or something and listen to this like the whole world was actually still that small and stupidly cloying. I’m so fucking method. And I get that this song is the most LOLS INAPPROPRIATE one to ever have this association with, but fuck it, this is still where I go musically~ when times get rough.

]]> http://bellamybellows.wordpress.com/2010/05/05/05-05-10-jasons-ultimate-nu-rock-ill-advised-pop-punk-playlist/feed/ 0 bellamybellows http://bellamybellows.wordpress.com/2010/03/29/03-29-10-lookatthisfuckinghipster/ http://bellamybellows.wordpress.com/2010/03/29/03-29-10-lookatthisfuckinghipster/#comments Mon, 29 Mar 2010 03:50:07 +0000 bellamybellows http://bellamybellows.wordpress.com/?p=29 ]]> My semester is rolling to a halt, which means I’m entering the mindfuck territory of WHAT WILL I DO WITH MY TIME. I have no idea what the answer to that is, even though pretty much everyone else is probably going lols, Jason, of course you’re going to go and act and do your job basically, since you kind of finished college a long, long time ago. Which are entirely true facts, I agree, and I do have some things on the horizon that only the fine folk at IMDB would be aware of (so the world, basically) but in the meantime, I’m dedicating myself to something that I like to call Jason’s Lame Arty-Art Shit.

This title could probably be applied to my entire ~career, with minor exceptions because, you know, my craft and all totally errs on the side of lame arty-art shit, because acting! and theater! and stuff, but what I mostly mean is that I have rediscovered my passionate love affair with painting stuff whenever possible.

As past blogs have revealed is that I have aboslutely no space left in my house for more arty ministrations, since I have literally completed all the rooms in my house in terms of jazzing them up with random make-work projects. The Bellamy Compound is pretty much a hodgepodge of macrame and collaging at this point. Such as:

Exhibit A: The Bellamy Bathroom

Exhibit B: The Bellamy Kitchen

Exhibit C: The Bellamy Bedroom(wall)

We now move into actual Jason artsy-art lame shit, because I got desperate for canvas and was like, talking to my main man about how I was painting the most awesome PA I have ever ever met who was fantastic and let me make her into a peacock lady on a Sunday night when we both had to sleep and go to work in the morning and then try to pick off all the rhinestones from her peacock-ness. SO because he’s awesome he was like w/e, Jason, you can paint on me and I took that and ran with it because I just really freaking love painting on people.

SO.

Here is a pretentious visual of me preparing for this shoot~ under the guise of capturing my camera so everyone could copy this and get the same results at home~ as if you even actually want them but I am wicked impressed with how this particular project turned out. Yes I actually fucking took it in a bathroom mirror.

The Neon Man, of which there are also several fucking fantastic face shots but someone is SHY ABOUT HIS FACE so I kind of need to beg for permission and if that fails the world will just never know how fantastic this actually turned out unless you come over to my house and see it on my wall because it’s actually kind of beautiful and fantastic and again, best ever love it. Love it.