2 May 2001
6:06 PM: Poor Tara. Well, it could have been worse. She's not dead dead, just brain dead. So that's completely reversible if they want it to be, magic and stuff. Versus, you know, a broken neck for someone that's not a demon. (Do they spell it daemon? Could you HUP Angel? Would you want to? Don't tell me.) I was very much expecting the non-reversible total death, so this was almost a relief.
Not that he can't or won't go ahead and really kill multiple other people next week.
Buffy, I'm talking about Buffy, you know that by now, right? Yes we do.
Anything else going on? Not really. Meant to come in early today. Actually woke up early-ish. Walked around apartment, read some email. Fell down in bed again. So maybe not so much Mr. Discipline, fine. But I woke up in time for the conference call so that's what matters.
And like a huge idiot - no, not like one, AS the huge idiot that I am, I left Saul's birthday package here at the office yesterday.
Now I am eating M&Ms and Blitzkrieg Bopping and soon going home to go to the Fillmore to see Sigur Ros and maybe learn how to pronounce their name. And that's the way it is, May 2nd, 2001. I'm Walter Cronkite, good night.
Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.
All names are fake, most places are real, the author is definitely unreliable but it's all in good fun. Yep.
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