I'll start off by saying that I'm not really a fan of blogging. For some reason, I revel in letting events and ideas go by, unrecorded, off to drift wherever those things tend to go. It's been a habit of mine, for as long as I can remember having good ideas, to simply not write those ideas down. Sometimes, they circle back like migrating songbirds, reminding me to forget them again. Sometimes, they ask me to put them on paper, and I answer back, lazily, No. Sometimes, it's not my idea but somebody else's, a nagging reminder, a suggestion; You should blog that, Matt. And often, it's all of those things, and yet, I don't follow through.
It's only now, when I have lots of work to do, and lots of things with which to procrastinate, that I realize I should be blogging. And so, with 17% battery life and my computer held high above my head at the top of a hill other than the one I live on (so that I might in fact upload this entry onto the internet) I begin to blog.
Today is the 24th day of July, of the year dos mil catorce. Today, I went with three engineers from Santiago and a dozen men (mostly above the age of 60) pa'bajo por el rio, where I basically stood around while the three engineers did their thing, attaching the super-taut cable lines to the wooden poles we've stuck in the ground (because we're setting up a mini-hydroelectric power grid). Sitting there, asking stupid questions, misunderstanding answers, getting joke responses from my stupid-ass questions; this is usually my role. Today, I asked, (without explaining to you the context) en su opiníon, cual institucíon o cosa que usan se faltan Los Bueyes? (What institution or thing that you use is missing in Los Bueyes?). I was expecting answers like a clinic or a store that sells clothes.
Their answer? Una chiva para cojerse. (A goat to fuck.)
