Elvis Presley, Eric Clapton, Elton John (the first concert I paid for myself and went to myself with no parents), Etta James, Edith Piaf, Enya, Elvis Costello, Eartha Kitt (sorry, Madonna, your cover of Santa Baby doesn’t even come within the same galaxy as Eartha Kitt’s version), Eddie Izzard (whom I abso-freakin’-lutely adore), Edward G. Robinson (the deliciously evil Dathan in The Ten Commandments who had the hots for Aaron’s girlfriend), Elaine Hendrix (has she ever played a nice person? She does vile so wonderfully.), Eliza Dushku, Eli Wallach, Ellen DeGeneres . . . The list could go on and on and on. Lots of fantastic musicians, writers, actors, etc., who claim E as their initial.
E.T., which when I first saw it fascinated me so much I actually sat in the theatre and watched it a second time. But I must confess I don’t really care for it anymore. Not sure why.
Every Silver Lining Has a Grey Cloud—years and years ago, I was having a rough day. The incomparable Izzybella, who was my roomie at the time, called the radio station and asked them to play a cheerful song and dedicate it to me. The DJ had an interesting sense of humour, because the song he dedicated to me and played had the phrase “every silver lining has a grey cloud.” Izzybella and I couldn’t help but laugh at the lugubrious nature of events that day.
Elizabeth! aka Izzybella! The best 8th birthday present a girl could ever hope to have, and the best friend anyone could ever hope to have. I love her so much, and love having her in my life.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning. I love her works, and the story of her life makes me really sad. I’m glad she got out from under the thumb of her awful father, and glad she had some happines and joy in her life before she died.
Edgar Allan Poe. He was one of the first poets that I fell in love with as a kid. He had a gift for conveying a wonderfully eerie atmosphere through his use of assonance and rhythm. I remember borrowing from “The Raven” to create an invitation to a Halloween party my then roomie and I were hosting.
Endometriosis. I hads it. I hates it. That’s some seriously nasty stuff, and is a huge contributor to my childlessness.
Emily of New Moon, and the sequels thereto. It took me much longer to find the Emily books than the Anne books, but L.M. Montgomery added a touch of the supernatural to the Emily books, and I just loved them. I felt like I lived through every struggle that Emily had to deal with, and I was glad to be along for the journey. If your only experience with L.M. Montgomery is through the Anne books, you would definitely do yourself a favour by exploring some of her others.
Edward Cullen. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Just kidding. Buffy would stake him in seconds flat. He’d rip off his shirt so he could sparkle her into submission, but no sooner would he have done so than the stake would be through his heart and he’d be nothing more than a cloud of glitter. I’m just sayin’. (And I just bought a graphic novel, Nancy Drew: Vampire Slayer–alas, they only had volume 2, and I’ve ordered volume 1 but it won’t be in until the weekend, so I’m not reading it, but I’m willing to bet Nancy Drew would stake Edward, too, only she might flirt with him first. Dunno. I’m heroically restraining myself from reading Volume 2. It’s hard. Because hello! Nancy Drew: Vampire Slayer. What’s not to love?) (Did they turn Ned Nickerson into a vampire? Because that could be interesting. A sort of Spike-Buffy thing, only with a vapid Spike and a nosy interfering Buffy.)
That is all for today–you may now return to your regularly scheduled life.