Drugstore Gaucho

There's so much to say. Where have I been, what have I been doing? I know you'd like to know, or you wouldn't be reading. . How I wish I could Twitter every little inane thought that comes into my head and every strange happening that happens to me. For instance, the other day, I read about the saying here, its free to dream or dreaming is free, or whatever. And then I halfway managed to execute the phrase with one of my housemates and he taught me to use it more better. Then yesterday, I bought a scratchpad to write on and I remarked to myself that to dream is free, but to write it down costs 5 and 1/2 pesos. The last month or so has been so totally dedicated to finding a job and getting an apartment/place to stay. I like to think that I did good job exerting myself towards the goals, a commendable effort when its so difficult to chart progress. I often thought or writing a blog post solely about doing these things in Buenos Aires. I guess you're looking at the paragra...

"To a foreigner, a Yankee is an American. To an American, a Yankee is a Northerner. To a Northerner, a Yankee is a New Englander. To a New Englander, a Yankee is a Vermonter. To a Vermonter, a Yankee is someone who still has an outhouse." Everyone in a spanish speaking country has a nickname. Un apodo. So it seems, anyway. Mine is yankee. Except written yanki and pronounced shan-kee, due to the eccentricities of pronunciation here around the Rio Plata. Many people believe that this word is "despectiva" which I take to mean disrespectful. I tell them that it´s not and that the only time I´ve ever heard the word was mainly in the song Yankee Doodle, which does not cause me a feeling of disrespectedness, to say the least. Then I realized I´ve never really been to the South and I found this quote, which I assume to be something in general usage.  As a guy from the midwest, I said to myself self, huh, well I guess the word can refer to me. Now I realize that ...

Hello and welcome back. This blog is ready to begin in seriousness, once again, as I am back in America of South in the country of Argentina. This means a return to form in many ways, there will be a grand detailing of my adventures and misadventures, boring report of my success, hilarious recounting of my failure. There will be many awkward sentences that are born of a Spanish thought straying into my author´s consciousness and gumming up the flow as I awkwardly latinize words into existence that ought not to exist or throw phrasal verbs into the path of oncoming formal sentence structures, terminating in a little self-reference that hopes to excuse what is otherwise an unforgivable run-on? But what is different? Will it be different? Or will it be just more of the same DrugstoreGaucho, that dark-hatted figure, silhouetted in the doorway of adventure? The same guy that threw himself to the rapacious lions (first writing, loins) of the gay argentine dance club? That stalwart fellow tha...

Like I've said before, I've been at home lately--for more time than I have been since high school. I still consider myself an adventurer (and the real adventure will resume at the end of the month, Argentina bound) but I think I've been adventuring in new territory still, territory unused to the inquisitive stomp of my jackboots (purely figurative, I still wear flip flops everywhere). That territory is American society. Honestly, I would be skeptical of anyone that claims to be "adventuring" in their own society, but frankly my own interactions with nearly everyone and everything I come into contact to have such a sense of novelty and unfamiliarity it makes me recall vividly the experience of being in another country. On top of that, I am most definitely isolated from the bulk of society by my current living situation. I live by myself and can claim no strong connections to any of the social fixtures of society. I go to a jam session once a week where the other pa...

This post won't be about travel, I think, which would make it somewhat of a diversion from my standard. But the real goal of all the traveling that I d0, aside from eat and peruse the local fauna, is provoke thought. My thoughts have been provoked a lot here in Kansas City. Over the last four years, I have picked up and set down many, many times. Finish high school, move all my things to Wisconsin get upset about leaving home, spend 8 weeks there, come down for Thanksgiving, two more in Wisco , then Christmas, three weeks at home, then 10, 1 week in Kansas City, 10 at school. Come back for the summer, get upset about leaving school. Go back to school, skip Thanksgiving, spend time at school, come home for winter break, wonder where all the people have gone, go back to school, get confused about where home is, go back to school go to California for spring break. 10 weeks at school, one week in Kansas City. 6 months in Argentina , 4 with one host family, 2 with another. Get upset ...

So, I failed to report on the last leg of my journey. So I shall make a brief description of the events that transpired. This description will be aided by photos, as I took them and took the time to plug in my camera. And Yulie complained that my few posts are far too long. Therefore, I will provide a narrative of my trip using the grammatical/pictorial style of a little Japanese women whose first language isn't exactly English. I went to Rhode Island and I was excited cause they have lots of And I wanted to eat some: As well as All Thanks to: And, also, I didn't: Cause when you're raised in Kansas when you think of: You think of: Which makes you wanna: