My First Blag Entry

       Greetings internet brethren! Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Alec and I'll be your guide for the next three months as I navigate Argentina's countryside, the inner workings of my own media-addled brain and the always nourishing world of blues and rock and roll. This being my first post, I feel somewhat obligated to provide a certain amount of introductory content, an orientation to my blague if you will, but more on that later. First let me say, I'm genuinely psyched out of my mind for this expedition, and I'm really excited to be writing for an audience, you guys: my friends and family. Enough with formalities though, let's get dirty.
       I know what you're thinking. What the hell is a blague? For that answer I must digress. I forget exactly when it happened, but once upon a time not too long ago I was surfing the internet and I happened upon a rather humorous t-shirt. It simply read, "No One Reads Your Blog." If you don't understand the joke allow me to explain. Within the internets there exists discrete social circles analogous to the stereotypical social groups that you probably remember from high-school: the sportos, the motorheads, geeks, sluts, bloods, wastoids, dweebies, dickheads...not to quote a John Hugh's movie or anything but you get the point. Anyhow, bloggers used to be a diehard internet clique back when the internet was just starting out (remember when AOL sent you a cd-rom every other month?). Bloggers were for the most part made up of social pariahs who couldn't really make friends in the real world, but online they had their very own support group of anonymous friends who empathized with their problems. Anyhow, things are different these days, and blogging has become a respectable activity. Where was I? Oh yes. So, I found this shirt online, and at that very moment I vowed to myself that I would never start my own blog. Well, I like to think of myself as a man of my word, so being the punny logophile that I am, I've devised a way around that vow. Listen close now. This is NOT a blog. I know you thought it was but it's not. This is a blague, which brings us back to the question: What in tarnation is a blague?! Well, calm down and I'll tell you. Blauge [bläg] noun: a joke or piece of nonsense. ORIGIN mid 19th cent.: French, literally 'claptrap, nonsense.' So, please remember: I am not keeping a blog. I'm producing quality kitsch nonsense. One last PSA: from this point forthwith I will be spelling blague ---> blag. Used in a sentence. "Did you read Alec's latest blag?" "What the hell is a blag?"
       Well, I must be off to slumberland, but before I bid adieu, I'd like to give a shout-out to my suite mates Tom, Diego and Casey. I really miss you guys and I plan on introducing stump to the farmers. Even though my sleep deprivation is rendering my literary musings more and more loquacious, neurotic (loquacious is loquacious), and borderline incoherent I'd like to leave y'all with a couple of blues songs that have been frequenting my ipod as of late.
       I've recently discovered the blues, and I feel like a whore that's just found religion. Oh my god, I love it. The blues that is. It's just got soul, unlike today's stuff and unlike anything else at all really. I just feel happy when I listen to it. Therapeutic really. Now, I don't pretend to know anymore about the blues than the next fellow, so I suppose we'll just learn together on this one. Anyhow, this first song is somewhat time appropriate (in the sense that I'll be waiting for a plane come wednesday. I leave for Buenos Aires on the 15th. That's tomorrow!!!!) and a real classic: Waiting for a Train by Jimmie Rodgers. A delightful song for a lazy sunday afternoon no matter what day of the week it might be, this song is sung by none other than the Father of Country Music. Born 1987, Jimmie Rodgers was one of the very first country superstars to grace Amurica, home of the diabeetis. Our next song is similar in that it's also bluesy but the similarities end there: A'hm a Nigger Man by Scatman Crothers is a catchy tune to be sure, but it's the song's emotionally charged content that is really interesting. The first thing that strikes you is the jarring song title, however the song lyrics are even more brash: "I'm the minstrel man, I'm the cleaning man, I'm the poor man, I'm the shoeshine man, I'm the nigger man...watch me dance...I got the devil in me, it's the man you see." The song comes from 1975 American animated film Coonskin, which follows the adventures of an african-american rabbit, fox and bear who climb to the top of the organized crime ladder in Harlem. As illustrated by the song, the film satirizes racism and black stereotypes. What's really neat though is the singer, Scatman Crothers. Born May 23, 1910, he's best known as that black guy who gets an axe to the stomach in Kubrick's The Shining. A real interesting man, here are few cool facts about him: at the age of 15 he played music in a speakeasy in his home town of Terre Haute, Indiana (he performed for Al Capone once), he was good friends with Jack Nicholson and he was the voice actor for Hong Kong Phooey if anyone remembers that cartoon... remember the dog who did kung fu, and his car thingy could transform into any kind of automobile, and his cat always saved him when... oh dear I'm rambling. 
       Good heavens. Now I'm really tired. Oh well. The next update will definitely be about the actual trip, don't worry. But, now I must see a man about a dog, and not in the modern sense but in the traditional sense. Look it up. Whatever. Goodnight darlings. Till next time... ~ Alec the Adventurer