Song of Myself

Again, personal details have been demanded. I’m supposed to put the “human touch” (intuitively, I suppose that would be mine?) on the Fringe, and thus far, I have been failing. It seems that proper Blogging, unlike other forms of masturbatory pleasures, is not as easy as they look.

For Scot’s Sake

I have met several true-blue Scots (who I have been incorrectly referring to as “Scotlanders”). To me, they sound incomprehensibly like pirates, and every time I try to mimic their accent, I end up brandishing my arm and squinting at an invisible parrot. It’s a very odd look and I hope that people dismiss it as individual adult-retardation instead of blanketing their assumptions across all Americans. If you apply to Scottish university and are outright dismissed, you may either blame me or the 2004 election.

Last night, I popped into a local pub to find people fiddling, impromptu whistling (on what looked like a glorified recorder) and clapping along while guzzling such amounts of booze that would put even the sweetest fraternity brother to shame and under-the-table. I am convinced that Scots, like Russians, are nursed on 80-proof formula or have a complex series of livers which target any ill-effects of liquor into a speech-impediment that has, like the goiter elsewhere, become a symbol of nationalistic pride.

I say all this, of course, in vain attempts to feign indifference to Scotsmen who are a thousand times more appealing than American males; if only for the slight language barrier, which gives me the freedom to imagine all sorts of compliments in-between the gulps and pauses in conversation. I smile, giggle, mentally pick out wallpaper--- no doubt increasing the appearance of lunacy.

I live in such self-absorbed romanticism, that I often mistake daftness for depth having read one-too many descriptions of the quiet-but-silent types who are made of the rock, connected to the earth, and whose lion hearts cannot find expression in the tongues of men (think Tristan in “Legends of the Fall”, and yeah, I know he is Brad Pitt as an American Cowboy, but the point remains---I also didn’t want to admit that Braveheart was the only other reference I could make).