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Thursday, November 10, 2011

...I Blame It On James Dean.

Recently, I was accused of having an irrational and irrepressible affinity with, what some might call, the "bad boy" appeal. Well, as they say...guilty until proven innocent, and I have absolutely no intention of proving any such thing. I feel no obligation to, indeed, I happily confess! I am completely attracted to the "rebel without a cause" sort of infamy vibe that denotes this class, and, personally, I blame it all on James Dean. Before I get ahead of myself, let me provide some background on our perpetrator here... not to mention some much needed visual representation, for some eye candy and cardiac stimulation, if nothing else.
So dear reader, try not to be too overcome as I introduce you to....
...Mr. James Dean

 I know you are probably wondering, so allow me to relieve your curiosity...he is MINE. He is dead, yes, I am fully aware, but I have already claimed him for the next life, so don't even bother yourself over him. This beautiful man took full hold on my soul a few years ago when I caught a glimpse of his perfection on television as I flipped through local channels. It was a scene from East of Eden, one of only three movies he starred in before his tragic death. I had heard of James Dean...heard he was attractive, rather scandalous, and of course infamous for his characteristic "bad boy" image and appeal. I saw that face and instantly knew, this was James Dean. (I hastened to look him up on Google afterward, merely to confirm my suspicion). And thus, true love---or rather true lust was born. For at that point, the foundation for my adoration was based purely on physical attraction, but true love was still come...and oh how it came! I was soon introduced to the movie Rebel Without A Cause, and I think I can safely say, it was after that movie that I swore my unwavering devotion. It was that movie, and, of course, the man himself, that invoked in me a new perception of the male sex. Firstly, it was decided that every man should be exquisitely attractive, if he possibly can, and more specifically he ought to be the kind of unbearably beautiful--in a masculine way--that would denote the modern perception of a Greek god. Secondly, a man should be manly, but there is a certain sensitivity desired also, but not so much that any actual masculinity is's a sort of "I ride a ridiculously fast and dangerous motorcycle, but I always carry an extra helmet" phenomenon--rather difficult to explain. Thirdly, if one could combine the sex appeal of both James Dean and Mr. Darcy, the planet would simply explode from over-exposure to sheer perfection. Fourthly...well, point in case, you just can't beat James Dean...James Franco, my friend, you come very very close, but you'll just have to settle for second place in the end. Back now to the point of this monologue. The truth is, this--dare I accept the term--obsession, has now fringed into my actual life, breaching the barriers of my secret alter ego's  alternate reality, and affecting aspects of my literal existence. This, I believe, is the only real cause for concern--and when I say concern I do not mean to claim it as my own, I am merely referring to the expressed notions of certain others. Recently it was suggested that perhaps my inclination towards this particular breed of man, is the cause of my lack of success with mankind in general, that perhaps I am deterring the potential for good, healthy offers by wistfully imaging the basic opposite, which is certainly madness! This may or may not actually be true...I offer no confession for this. All I do know is that, healthy or not, I am in love with "the infamy," and I blame it all on James the best way possible.
Farewellings for now!
-Abbey Road Rutter

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