Definition and Etymology of the Word "Blog"?

No, I don't know the answer, nor have I looked it up, nor do I really care to. I do know what it is and that it's not a particularly attractive word. I also know that another title is about to be added to my list: Blogger (really, what an utterly unattractive word). Who is interested in what I have to say, I do not know; but to those who venture in only once, or to those who will be checking regularly, I invite you to read and enjoy, agree or disagree with what I write about. I have little tolerance for nonsense, "bs" and fuss, just to warn you. I write what I think based on my experiences, my thought process, my feelings and present mood. Not much of an introduction at all, but there shall be much more to come, this I can promise.

I am sitting comfortably atop the well worn cushions of a Spanish Revival sofa inside the Bourgeois Pig in Hollywood--bathed in a soft light tinted blue from the walls, which appear at times lapis lazuli, other times a punk-blue, and often times the shade of blueberry that Violet Beauregarde  took on when her vulgar vices led her into the fate of metamorphosing into an enormous version of the berry (did Kafka ever receive royalties from Dahl for this?). Through my headphones plays the amazing Agustin Lara singing "Amor de Mis Amores", "Arrancame La Vida", "Farolito" and others, accompanied only by his muse, his voice, his piano and the charming nostalgic patina of the recordings of a bygone era--distant not so much in recorded time as much as in thinking and notion, continuity and perspective. Some moments later, I am taking a pause from Agustin and listening to Sir Winston Churchill's first public speech as PM of Great Britain. His Harrovian accent unmistakable; his words extra-mortal in his magnificent, awe inspiring style of speech. His precision tool of communication that displayed so well his unmatchable intelligence, intuition, wit and charm.

Another day in Los Angeles--Sunday, to be exact. Took an Ethiopian luncheon using my bare hands as is the custom, with an Eritrean friend of mine here in LA working for Lufthansa. We chatted in French over mouthfuls of this-and-that. At midday, went to Oasis on Wilshire and really enjoyed what I saw, heard and felt: a refreshingly hip and contemporary atmosphere without compromising the Word--the perfect church for LA "hipsters" and "Hollyweird" kids!

Across Wilshire passing Hancock Park, Mid Wilshire/Miracle Mile, Koreatown, La Brea...Left on Vermont, right on Sunset and over to LA's "upper east side" to my adopted neighbourhood: Silverlake. 

Ecco la! My favourite gelateria in all of Southern California: Pazzo Gelato on Sunset. Mike, the creator/gelato artist, prepares his own fior di latte every morning as the noble, only acceptable way of preparing the dense, creamy, addicting, euphoric ribbon-like folded layers of gelato contained in each stainless steel terrine. I chose Mascarpone, Mandorle, and as always, my favourite, made from 100% imported Sicilian Pistachio "butter": Gelato al Pistacchio (o, Santa Maria! La cosa piu buona che ti fara' impazzire del piacere).

You won't find daily postings for this "blog"; but rather, when something noteworthy or significant happens, or something entirely insignificant happens--depending on the day, and my mood. Through my thoughts, musings, et cetera, I hope to introduce to you a special new place, a new dish, a new thought that otherwise may never have been brought to your consciousness. Not all will enjoy or agree with what I write; so be it. This is Alex, and this is my first posting.