Drugstore Gaucho

Long ago, I tried to write some kind of conclusion to my blog. I wrote this, sitting at home on a late night and have tried to touch it up a few times since then. It'll never really be finished, so I foist it upon you, warts and all. Oh, and I don't mention it, but I think I'll be back. I hope I'll be back, after college to study music there and be a trombonist and make enough money to live. Anyway... I've always appreciated "The End" with a question mark. Just who or what does it question? Am I, the writer, challenging you the reader to guess whether or not this is the conclusion of things? Is the phrase itself an admission of the uncertainty of endings and the future? Is it the sound of incredulous disappointment, "The end? Is this all there is to it?" Maybe it's simple ambition, the man in charge of the credits trying to wedge an opening for a sequel. In this case, it's a little of all but especially this: It is a confession of ignoran...

Che, boludos! It's been a really action-packed week. I explain you now. I'M GONNA BE ON A REAL LIVE CD!!! Roommate of friend Brad is an accordion-playing israeli musician composer. He's been working on a record for the last year. And lately on a track called, Take Five Bulgarians, a crazy little version of Brubeck's "Take Five" in a crazy little mixed meter with a weird middle eastern key signature. So on Thursday, I went to a studio and recorded my bit which will be mixed into the bunch. And it was a lot harder than I thought would be, go figure. But I've had my first studio recording experience and the best part. It seems that this is a disc that will be sold in stores and everything. So, not having graduated yet or even being a music major, I'm on a real CD. And come saturday, some friends of distant conntection through my tango teacher invited me to ¨zapar¨with them on saturday in Provincia. For me, provincia means dirt roads, noncity-dwelling, goo...

Cora wakes me from my slumber. There occurred an episode in the club which I am unsure that I want to/lack the creative energy to describe right now. I may return to the theme. In any case, directly after the episode, I was motivated to leave the club very quickly. However, I did not leave with my friend, Brad. This is his story. While I was sitting on a bus, reflecting on my life-changing experience, Brad thought that I was still in the club and commenced to search for me. I was not to be found. Brad, apparently not terribly concerned about my disappearance, decided to stick around inside the club to hear the band play. I should take a minute to explain that cumbia villera is really pretty bad, all things considered. Musically speaking, it is about as complex as a ham sandwhich, which is to say, easy enough to make, but capable of killing Mama Cass. Yeah. The band begins and the people in the club just started freaking out. For all of you interested in the absurd schedule of the place...

Hey Kiddies, I’m back, connecting local pizzeria el continental, which I’m told is a pizzeria buena buena buena. I’ve ordered a pizza fugazzetta rellena con queso cremoso, two pieces of fainá and a glass of moscato, a sweet wine which usually accompanies such things. There’ve been some major changes in my life. I cut my hair, for instance. I got a mullet. Soon this will be a dread mullet. I think that you’ve all had sufficient warning. It will be a dreadmullet, once I’ve accumulated the sufficient length. I’m almost done with all my papers and finals and crap, meaning that here comes the part of supplying my own diversion in or out of Buenos Aires. I’m planning on mostly out. The only thing keeping me in town is my bands performances on Sundays of every week. I’ve had better luck with las chicas outside of town anyway. I guess my reputation gets around. ;-) And finally, the achievement of the hour, my first ridiculous story accumulated in Spanish and told in Spanish. It’s a little some...

Those two pictures tell a story about how hard it rained in Buenos Aires the other day. Excuse my lack of postage (Cora). This is crunch time for me. In the next day, the following things are due: 1 history paper (7-10 pages, double space) Monday 1 tango paper (8+ pages, single space) Thursday? I hope 1 anthropology paper (7-10 pages, spacing unknown) Tuesday 1 "semiotics" excercise (complicated) Monday or Tuesday several radio excercises (uh...) ? 2 literature finals Monday But the good news is, the view from my room is sweet at night. In other news, I went to see Maykel's band "El Portón" play at a place that is two for two on sweet shows. They play music of the Rio Plata, which is a pack of weird influences including african drum tradition, uruguayan harmonized singing, and a lot of highly dancable tropical beats. There was I cha cha line. I did as I was bid by my dark cha cha masters. Since then, I've been hypocritically thinking about how I'm gonna ...

I had a four day weekend. Every other Yanqui in Buenos Aires was heading to nearby megalopolis Cordoba for their Oktoberfest. Yes, they have an Oktoberfest there. It struck me as rather stuoid to go to Argentina for a beer festiva that we have in the United States, so I polled some kids in my radio class where I ought to go. They listed off a bunch of party destinations and some place that I had never ever heard of before. Hmm. Beach, beer, booty or a an exciting journey through the happy-go-lucky crazyplace of the Argentina dairy country. Well, you all know me: Yup. That's cheese. Yes. I went to the Wisconsin of Argentina. Truthfully, I didn't know that before I went. The plus side of my vacation selection is that it put me in with a whole bunch of argentines who were in my boat. Tired of Buenos Aires and looking for some place to recharge their batteries. Turns out Tandil is the typical sort of destination for a real portenho. So, two things. Maybe I am fitting into Buenos Ai...

Pibe - kid; a young person Bárbaro - Literally barbaric; cool, fantastic My friends are cool, ¿eh? Last sunday I received one iteration of a group text message that said "We rehearse at 4. As a price, asado. "Tirada de goma" for dessert.ee I consulted a taxi driver for the definition of the last term, which appeared to be past participle of the word throw (tirar) and the word for rubber. It seemed to me that it might be a delicious gelatin snack. I confirmed this with the taxi driver I was riding with at the time. As it turns out, its an argentismo for blowjob. It appeared that my friends were being funny. Little did I know I at this time, the sender of the text message was being berated viciously for sending me a text message that I was unlikely to understand on various level. Solutions were hatched. I contemplated a response tranquilly. Searching through my relatively modest Spanish armoury, I select "Your mother will be coming, then" and hit the send butto...