Wednesday, January 2, 2013

Happy New Beard!


before picture
JN: For those of you who don't know me (which begs the question, how did you hear about this blog and what the fuck are you doing here?) My name is Jeff Newman. I am an actor, playwright, and facial hair enthusiast living in Chicago, IL. 
Over the last few months because of cold weather, curiosity, or just plain laziness I haven't shaved, cut, or even trimmed my beard. As you can see (from the attached before picture) it has gotten quite long. It was during the Christmas holiday that I made a startling discovery:

My beard is alive.

Now, I know what you're going to say. Beards like any other hair on the head, body, or nether region is simply dead tissue- nothing more.
First of all- fuck you, I'm telling this story.
And secondly- you're dead wrong.
My beard has his own name, history, culture, and vocabulary which incidentally is way better than mine.
The first meeting went something like this:


Beard. This Christmas tradition has only gotten stranger with time.
Me. Who was that?
Beard. It was me.
Me. Me who? Who the fuck is talking?
Beard. Me, stupid. Your beard. I'm growing on your face and talking to you right now.
Me. Holy shit! This has got to be some acid induced hallucination!
Beard. It's not.
Me. How would you know?
Beard. You're not on acid.
Me. Touche.

As it turns out, his name is Reginald Buford Brimley. After he explained to me the plight of the beard in modern society, we quickly reached an agreement. I agreed to allow him all of 2013 to grow undisturbed and uninhibited. Starting from scratch, I am going to monitor the progress with weekly updates. Furthermore, I agreed to begin this blog to give him an open forum to share his thoughts, opinions, and understanding of what he calls Human Culture.
clearly, this is the after picture

For my part, I can assure you that after spending nearly three months with constantly growing facial hair, greeting the 14 degree weather this evening without it was fucking weird. It doesn't look like me in the mirror, and I have nothing to twist between my fingers when I'm thinking about stuff. Frankly, I don't much like it. I feel so unlike myself without my beard, I actually brought the clippings in a zip-lock baggy to my favorite bar this evening because I was worried the bartender wouldn't recognize me without my whiskers. It did not have the desired effect. I still got my usual Shiner Bock without asking, so maybe it was a smart move after all.
facial hair: the gateway drug
Tune in next week for a new photo (no nipples this time) and accompanying entries from both myself and my beard: Reginald Buford Brimley. I imagine in the coming weeks, his entries will be quite a bit longer than mine. For now, I will leave you with his words.

"This journey is beginning. And like all great adventures, we know not where it will lead us or where it shall end. For now, let me just say that I am damn glad for the opportunity. To learn, to share, to grow." -RBB   




1 comment:

  1. I'm going to vicariously live out all my dreams of growing a fashionable beard on this blog. Thanks, Newman!

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