Crawford Slug

bye mr. damon
2005-03-02— Posted by: allegra has ceased operations. I sent him an email saying how very sad I was, and now I am forced to reconsider this blog – is this something I should be doing?

enough sleep
2005-03-02— Posted by: allegra

Today I’m wearing hunter green to the Apocalypse. Suits my colouring, and my eyes *are* green. Got to be well dressed for the end of the world, as we know it, even if I do feel fine.

My King Cobb Steelie CD came in but I haven’t picked it up yet.

I am going back into the recording studio (doesn’t that sound fancy? but it’s in some guy’s apartment, so forget the notion I’m awash in cash) on Thursday night. Mike found him for me, after Gomi turned out to be unavailable until after the Apocalypse. A quick review of my songs brought up about 6 that I really should record, although I’ll be lucky to get one done on Thursday. Then Friday I wanted to go to the Fark party at the Jolly Taxpayer (I really did) but I promised Keith faithfully that there would be no Fark parties for me until AFTER he hit the age of majority. Then we can go get smashed together. We’ve already picked out the bar we’re going to go get drunk in when he turns 19; Steamworks. Considering that Keith’s tolerance for alcohol, never great, has completely evaporated over the last six months, I figure it will be a cheerfully cheap date, even if I have to bring a bucket. And these days, if I drink 6 beers over the course of an evening my ability to get my eyes to track before noon the next day is severely truncated.

Friday the hot tob will be yodelling my name in tight four part harmony. Yesh. This sentence, about how tense I am, would probably not win me any new fans, so I am performing a preemptive product recall. Anyway, I’m looking forward to a soak.

My mother has gone completely insane (I can just imagine her jerking to attention as she reads this) because she wishes to commission a family portrait done in the style of Edward Gorey. For those of you who are Gorey fans, you are dying of jealousy that your mother doesn’t do things like that; the rest of you are contemplating different versions of wtf? I am trying to convey that even if the Apocalypse is coming, I am still trying wring the last drops of fun from the sanitarily moistened towelette of life. Actually I don’t feel too bad. Really.

2005-03-02— Posted by: allegra

This won’t mean anything to anybody but me. This is the crest of an imaginary character. Picture somebody smarter (and a better horseman) than Giles, tougher than Buffy, prettier than Spike, more polyglot than Willow, more musically gifted than Oz and with more difficult family dynamics than Xander. That’s Lymond. The all time, all round, best hero ever. I love him more than words can say. Francis Crawford of Lymond and Sevigny, may he live forever.