"Qui est Charlie Croker?"

[kittydesade]

I adore Eddie Izzard.

I was listening to the other CD of his that my bf has today. There were a lot of funny bits about animals and people in shopping centers and old people and mice and the Italian Job. I didn't realize it was about the Italian Job... the original one, 'cause this is before they made a remake... until I heard him say something about "loading the cheese in the back of the Mini..." and then I remembered the line "You're only supposed to blow the bloody doors off!" I really need to buy a copy of that movie. Both the original and the remake, the remake only because it has Jason Statham in and I love him to pieces. But... yes. That Italian Job skit made my afternoon. I ran squealing down to tell my boyfriend all about it and made him blink.

Also got a good chunk of another chapter and a half or so of Understanding written out. It's so cool. I'm tugging and gently pulling the heartstrings of the readers... I think this is why I'm a writer. Secretly I enjoy being a manipulative little bitch. I throw in a villain, and my reviewers go "Grr. Kill." I throw in a hero or a heroine or a sweet moment and they go "Awww." They're such obedient little fangirls. Mwa ha ha ha ha.

Ahem. Sorry. Inner megalomaniac taking over.

But I was productive today. Mwa ha. I did some productive things, got some stuff written, had fun, puttered around. I need to finish editing the LXG epic, or what I have of it. And I think I need to plot out the next few chapters a little more carefully than I'd originally thought. Meh. This is what happens when I let the story write itself, and it's as big as it is. Oh well. I'll figure something out. If nothing else I'll put up the whole story and then rework it more thoroughly later. I know I keep saying that, but I'll really do it this time. Honest.

I thought about putting in a new journal, for my characters. And then I realized.. wait a minute. I don't even post very often in the one I did that for on DeadJournal. So what's the point? Ugh. So, here. Character stuff.



"Well, last night seemed to go well."

I'm sitting in the computer room, and yet in my mind I'm lounging on my bed, in the highest room in the building of my mind. I've got a terrific view from this room. The bed is a canopied fourposter. Everything is gauzy and whispy and there's a slight breeze. Which is funny, you wouldn't expect this kind of frilly, subtle lace in my mind. Sometimes I don't expect it either, but there it is.

Laurel's sitting across from me, straddling the backwards chair at my desk. She's so tall, so lean and elegant. Sometimes I envy her.

"It seemed to, yeah. Technically it isn't even over yet, either... this is just a small blip in the Matrix."

I chuckle. The self-awareness ... awareness of her circumstance as a character in my head ... it always takes me by surprise that she's so calm about it.

"Yes, technically, you two still have to finish that conversation. But he seemed pleasantly surprised. What's wrong?"

"I don't know. I guess I didn't expect him to be surprised. He always seemed so sure of himself, like he knew what we both were thinking, even when I didn't even know what I was thinking."

I can't really argue with that. The character does seem to have a certain amount of prescience. "He did know, or at least he seemed to know that you wanted to ask him out. But then, he was surprised when you actually did. Maybe he was just trying to catch you out. You know that interrogation technique..."

"Pretend you have the information already and then when the person blurts it out and confirms it or gives you new information, cackle about it. I know."

I wonder, sometimes, what she's really thinking. "He didn't seem to be cackling."

She nods, staring at nothing with her eyes turned to the ground. "I know."

I stand up... she looks like she could use a hug. Or a teddy bear. Or a drink. "Does it bother you, how he acts?"

She looks up at me, and I can tell she's haunted by the failure of her first marriage. "It should... but it doesn't. It really should, especially after what you pointed out about Martine..."

I shake my head, but I can't help smiling. Martine is rather sweet... very attractive, in the dark and mysterious sort... but he's definitely not the kind of guy you'd want to get involved with romantically. "You said it yourself, Martine's crazier than he is... much. Besides, Julia's not doing too badly with Martine."

Laurel nods slowly. "I don't want to end up like Julia, though. And I definitely don't want to do what I did last time. I just..." she looks like she's about to wring her hands in frustration, a habit she had to have picked up from Daniel, or someone. She's never been the hand-wringing type. She's always been a little maternal, very competent, very sure of herself. To be like this, confused and worried and treading carefully to be sure she doesn't trip and fall... it must be very difficult for her.

"You just..." I prompt finally when she doesn't say anything. And at the same time I know how much this must cost her, because she really is a part of me.

"I just..." she sighs, swings her leg over, and starts pacing. Now she really is wringing her hands, which is kind of worrying. "When he showed up yesterday... ratty shirt and ratty pants and ... I thought my heart was going to stop. I haven't felt like that in ... years. Even with all the sorts of 'dangerous'.." And out come the air quotes, "guys I've been dating. Apart from that... they were sexy, and they were kind of exciting, but this is..."

"Something else."

She nods. I start thinking of the words I use, sometimes every day, even if only in my own head. "Does he make your heart stop and beat faster at the same time? Does he make you smile, or infuriate you for no reason you can see? Do you stare out the window waiting for him to walk by? Do you find yourself thinking about him, even when you can't see any reason to? Does he make you feel more alive, more yourself, more comfortable in the world and in your own skin?"

It's sort of funny, and yet strange and tragic, the miserable look on her face when she nods. Some questions get a nod, some just a thoughtful look. I have to sigh, it's inevitable.

"Laurel... you know better than I do how intense this is. I'm not going to tell you to go for it and I'm not going to tell you to wait... you know how delicate the situation is as well as I do."

She nods. "Very delicate. Very... tricky." She sighs and bangs her head gently against the wall. "I guess it's a wait and see kind of thing. I just wish ..."

"... this had all happened before everyone made their mistakes?"

"Yeah."

More sighing, from both of us. It's one hell of a situation, all right. Worse, even, than everything I've managed to get myself into. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. Really." She smiles weakly, and it's a bit of a relief to hear her say that. Since, she really is my creation. "I knew what I was getting into. I'll figure out something."

I go over and give her a hug, which is amusing since she's still so much taller than me, even in my own head. "It'll all work out. It usually does."

It didn't for Daniel. But I don't think either of us wants to remember that right now.