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I really must do something about old Ripper and his lethal little brat... -
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The electrical failures are as frustrating as I'd hoped ( Read more... ) -
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Damn and blast and bloody! I got back to the Inn late last night after having had a most annoying trip to - but I shouldn't record that. One of the most frustrating things about being a powerful chaos worshipper is that it makes it difficult to plan ahead. This time it was nothing as messy as summoning a demon who kills its summoners one by one, or ( Read more... ) -
At the Inn for Halloween.
The big man was tending bar again when I came in. I've always had the feeling that there was something familiar about him. This time when he turned toward me there was something about the way the light caught him. He suddenly reminded me of an old oil painting that I saw in Maine, years back. It came from a place owned by a family who had a very ( Read more... ) -
Return to Sunnydale - with a surprise or two.
The interior of the Inn had a depressing familiarity when I returned to Sunnydale last night. They always seem to be celebrating a festival. This time it's Halloween, of course. The majesty of All Hallows reduced to virulent orange pumpkins and paper bats. The blond woman with the Liecestershire accent was still on the desk. It might be interesting ( Read more... ) -
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I've been feeling uninspired so I cast about - literally - to find some way to make Sunnydale more interesting. One answer was by literally enlivening it a little. The blond woman at the Art Gallery might find that her silly African carvings have more vitality than she expected! They aren't truly alive, of course, just possessed. They'll need a ( Read more... ) -
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I found it necessary to leave Sunnydale in something of a hurry, a few weeks ago. It was clear that the green alcohol was what I had suspected, and I had no great wish to take the blame for distributing a drug that causes irresponsible behaviour ( Read more... ) -
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I had intended to go for a long walk, away from the Inn. However, I encountered Professor Walsh in the parking area. After a short discussion I told her I was returning to my room and gave her the telephone number ( Read more... ) -
St Patrick's hangover
I still seem to have a wretched hangover, exacerbated by the smell of paint from a wilting shamrock hanging from the light fitting immediately outside my room. I considered making my way down to the bar for the "heir of the dog that bit me". However, when I passed the delivery entrance I saw a small -pile of kegs marked "Finnegan's Green ( Read more... ) -
I know where I am, I think. Where was I?
In my youth, recreational drugs were a craze in my age group. Turn on and drop out, and so forth. It was fashionable to have tried LSD. DMT was a different kind of experience, It always gave a bad trip. I now suspect that the "magick" powder that distributed itself around my suitcase was akin to these varieties of lysergic acid diethylamide.
( ( Read more... )