LJ year in review Meme nicked from everyone
I can't remember the exact instructions, but it's that meme where you post the first entry (that isn't a quiz or a meme) for each month in the year. Here goes:
January -- Nicked from Neil Gaiman's blog: "May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you're wonderful, and don't to forget make some art -- write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself. "
Words to treasure...
HAPPY 2005!!!
February -- Working... crampy (Female TMI!)... fishing for terribly-written "Matrix" fics to roast on GAFF... writing a few odds and ends of fics and ficlets...
I finished reading Anita Diamant's "The Red Tent" last night: It's gotta be one of the best biblically-inspired novels I've read, and it gives you a completely different perspective on the Old Testament. Most of the time, and Christian writers are the worst offenders, you wind up with the anachronistic notion that all the Old Testament patriarchs and/or matriarchs all practised the Jewish faith, regardless of the fact that it really didn't get nailed down until the time of Moses. I know a lot of readers coming to this novel cold will be shocked to hear about the wives of Jacob revering the early Semitic goddesses like Inanna and Gula, but I found it fascinating and enlightening.
March -- Okay, I missed the Oscars last night, and I didn't have the Ref Award Noms up beforehand: I got busy with work and other things. But... here they are now, though the list is subject to revision, so you might want to bookmark it. This year, we have a new award, the Leo F. Mulhare (Memorial) Lifetime Achievement Award, which is named in honor of my grandfather, the greatest character and one of the best story tellers I knew personally. Without further ado:
BEST PICTURE: "The Passion of the Christ"; "Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow"; "I, Robot";
BEST ACTOR: Jim Caviezal, "The Passion..."; Tom Hanks, "The Terminal";
BEST ACTRESS: Maia Morgenstern, "The Passion..."; Bridget Moynihan, "I, Robot"
BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR: Stanley Tucci, "The Terminal"; Hristos Jivikov, "The Passion..."; Giovanni Ribisi, "Sky Captain..."
BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS: Monica Bellucci/Rosalinda Celantano, "The Passion...";
BEST FILM SCORE: "I, Robot"; "The Passion..."; John Williams, "The Terminal"
BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY: "I, Robot"; "Sky Captain..."; "The Terminal"
BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY: "The Passion..."
BEST DIRECTOR: Mel Gibson, "The Passion..."; Terry Conran, "Sky Captain..."
BEST SPECIAL EFFECTS: "Sky Captain..."; "I, Robot"
BEST ART DESIGN: "Vanity Fair"
BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY/EDITING: "The Passion..."; "I, Robot";
BEST ANIMATED: "The Incredibles"
BEST (MOST NOBLE?) HERO: Elasti-Girl, "The Incredibles"; Joe "Sky Captain" Sullivan, "Sky Captain..."; Jesus Christ, "The Passion...";
BEST (WORST?) VILLAIN: Syndrome, "The Incredibles"; Satan, "The Passion..."; The security head, "The Terminal"; The Mysterious Woman, "Sky Captain..."
"I-DIDN'T-SEE-THAT-COMING" AWARD: The true nature of the Mysterious Woman, "Sky Captain..."; Gupta's way to help Navorsky sneak out, "The Terminal"; Claire's master plan, "The Stepford Wives"
MOST MEMORABLE LINE: "Lens-cap", "Sky Captain..."; "Behold, mother, I make all things new...". "The Passion..."
LEO F. MULHARE (MEMORIAL) LIFETIME ACHIEVEMENT AWARD: Jerry Orbach [posthumous]
April -- I am not going to mention the News Item That Nearly Killed Me. I don't want to start any arguments, and I'm putting it behind me. It wasn't my battle, but I hope to God that I never get in the middle of something like that.
But... I had a great day other than that. I went into Lowell: printed out some stuff, collected a few needed pictures and things. I nipped into the Barnes and Noble downtown and got the "Star Wars Episode III" comic book tie-in (A friend of mine online did some of the artwork on it ::Waves:: Hi, Laurie!!) and one of the "Hellblazer" collections, "Rare Cuts".
My folks and I went up to the Northshore Mall, partly to poke around the Carmelite Gift Shop and partly to bring Mark his Easter basket/present; he works nights at the Carmelites' shop. I got Gabriel Amorth's "An Exorcist: More Stories", a follow-up to his "An Exorcist Tells His Story"; the author is the Chief Exorcist of Rome, in case you were wondering. I re-read his first book after seeing "Constantine" earlier in March. Mark and I nipped into the *large* B&N up there: I was looking for Neil Gaiman's "Smoke and Mirrors" short story collection, as well as any of the "Sandman" books. I got the follow-up to the main comics "The Dream Hunters", and when I went to pay for it and "Smoke and Mirrors", Mark suprised me by paying for the latter: he kinda hijacked the book from me. He had a gift card he hadn't used, so he made me an Easter present of that book. Ain't he sweet!
Then, we went to the IMAX theatre at Jordan's Furniture in Woburn, where we saw "Robots". The plot is a bit thin: a young robot with big dreams ventures to the big city to fulfill that dream, only to find that he has to help that city save itself, as part of making his dream come true. But the sight gags and the visuals and the characters and the voice talents are what really make the movie work, like a colorful, giant Rube Goldberg contraption.
May -- Just read this on Neil Gaiman's weblog, an extract from his speech at the Nebula Awards:
Gene Wolfe pointed out to me, five years ago, when I proudly told him, at the end of the first draft of American Gods, that I thought I'd figured out how to write a novel, that you never learn how to write a novel. You merely learn how to write the novel you're on. He's right, of course. The paradox is that by the time you've figured out to do it, you've done it. And the next one, if it's going to satisfy the urge to create something new, is probably going to be so different that you may as well be starting from scratch, with the alphabet.
June-- The AP, the Associated Press, one of the most reliable and prominent news sources in the country, has picked up our story; I just found out, via the Yahoo Group for the bunch of us trying to save my parish, that the New York Times is going to carry a story about the impending closing.
You can dodge the issue, O'Malley and "Manning", but you can't hide behind your excuses forever. To paraphrase the Merovingian, we survived the Know-Nothings torching the original wood-frame structure in the 1850s, and we will survive *you*.
The exterior. The steeple got knocked off the belltower during a hurricane in the 1930s, but it's still a great example of German Gothic architecture
The interior, facing the sanctuary. This is an older picture: a few years back, the walls behind the altar were painted blue
July -- Finally got my hair cut, since it was bugging me to no end: it was making me hot, and it was getting caught in my shirt/work-jacket collar constantly. I've gone from looking like a weedy version of Death, in the "Sandman" comics, to looking like a slightly shorter, scrawnier version of Trinity (to my eyes: I've discovered to my shock that the cropped hair-do, combined with the glasses and the shape of my face, makes me look like Daniel "Wooden!Harry Potter" Radcliffe's big sister).
August -- I'm almost finished with Chapter Five of "The Smoke of Satan..." which should be hitting this LJ some time tomorrow night. It's only a short chapter, but the damn thing came out in fragments, so I've been trying to knock it into some semblence of coherance as I type it, which has slowed down the process.
That and I've borrowed the Demon-Hunter's Holy Shotgun and used it to hunt down some Sues in the fandom. I've already trussed one up over on the Place Where Badfics Are Sporked; the other one will be on display tomorrow night.
I don't know what exactly went on, but early this morning, I spotted a rather pleased-looking Flood emerge from Cecie's room. We gotta get her back with Joe somehow, before she starts helping the Floodwatchman concoct some little scheme against his boss: Cecie detests the Merv (She's an even bigger "Matrix" geek than I am: she thinks I'm utterly wierd for having a crush on the Merv. What I want to known is why she's getting friendly with his 2IC...), to the point of trying to get a poke at him once in a while, which makes the Keymaker wonder if she's some relation to Trinity.
September -- Another lovely Neo/Trin fic: I love writing this pair as much as I love writing a younger Merv/Perse...
Title: New to Zion
Day/Theme: September 1: Here we are
Series: The Matrix
Character/Pairing: Neo/Trinity
Rating: G
Note: Takes place just after the first movie.
Trinity led the way along the maze of passageways leading from the freight elevator to Zion's rabbit warren of apartments, hewn out of the living rock. Neo followed close at her heels; he'd wanted to carry her duffle-bag for her, but she had insisted she could handle it: he was still shaky after that hit he'd taken in the Matrix. As they walked along the catwalk past a row of other rooms, she glanced back to him; like any newcomer to Zion, he peered around him, taking in his new environment, which had to be almost completely alien to him. His gaze met hers: he'd clearly sensed her looking at him. A shy smile crossed his face and she felt the corners of her mouth quirk up.
"So this is home?" he asked.
"It's the only home base I've known since I unplugged thirteen years ago," she replied. "We're almost there."
She paused in front of one of the doors and took a key on a cord attached to a ring inside an outer pocket of her bag and unlocked the door. She pushed the door open, letting him enter first. "Here we are," she said.
"Looks cozy," he said, stepping through the door.
"Watch your step: the floor is lower than the door," she warned. Even as she said it, he stumbled a little, but didn't fall. She put her free hand out and caught him under the shoulder.
"I'm okay," he said, reassuring her, but he let her hand steady him as she stepped into the room, after him, her gaze meeting his as she set down her duffle and turned him toward her.
EDITED TO ADD: Got this in under the wire...
Title: Chatelaine
Day/Theme: September 1: Here we are
Series: The Matrix
Character/Pairing: Merovingian/Persephone
Rating: PG
They had to hurry before the gatekeepers found her, or before they traced his antiquated code, so different from the codestream that sustained them. Merovee led Persephone along the twisting alleys of the city, their footsteps almost deafening against the night-time stillness, he keeping his ears open to the sounds of approaching intruders, she trying not to look back.
"How much further have we to go?" she asked, keeping her voice low.
"Not many more steps, ma cher," he replied, pressing her hand in his, in reassurance. She tasted his strength in that touch and let it give her a sense of safety.
They came to the back door of what appeared to be a high-class restaraunt, on the ground floor of a high-rise hotel building. With a key on the ring in his coat pocker, Merovee unlocked the door.
"Here?" she asked, puzzled.
"Yes, this is but the gatehouse, concealing the entrance," he said. He pulled open the door and held it for her, letting her enter first. He stepped in after her and pulled the door shut behind them.
They entered the darkened kitchen, lit only by the dull red light from the "Exit" sign above them. He guided her past hard-edged shadows of tables and countertops and fixtures. Approaching the double doors to what she guessed was a closet, he let her hand go and took a key from a chain about his neck, under his shirt. His shadow moved across the doors as he unlocked them. The key clicked in the lock; code crackled as he accessed another sector.
A sliver of light cut through the shadows and widened as he pulled the doors open on a high-ceilinged Baroque entryway. Persephone looked up in awe at the plasterwork above, the crystal and gilt chandelier that lit the hallway, the marble-paneled walls and floor.
"Merovee, this is your dwelling?" she asked.
"Yes, it is: my castle in sore need of a chatelaine," he replied. He took her hands in his and led her over the threshold, into another life...
October -- Reminder to self...
...Firewall my brain when I'm reading the news feed on the MxO website, since that will eliminate some, if not all, of the insecurity bouts and shouting and eyerolling from certain members of the collective. An announcement in the "Sentinal", the MxO's "newspaper", that someone had been dropping leaflets with odd slogans on them, including "Don't Trust The Frenchman", has upset Ref -- who knows her significant other is shifty at best, and feels like her face is being rubbed in it -- and angered the Merv, so we all had to listen to him grumbling in French all evening. I'm glad I barely understand him... Well, I may not be able to get every word he's saying, but I think I know the gist of it: he's only doing this to survive when the Machines tried to destroy him and his kind, and if that means less than gentle means, so be it. And then there was this hidden link on the same page, to a secret message which some people are claiming came from the Merv's second-in-command; said entity took one look at it and said it certainly wasn't from him: "The grammatics are too flawed for this to be anything *I* wrote. And what's with the inverse equilateral triangles in place of single quotatation marks?!" Said I: "Maybe it's from your evil, illiterate twin?" Said Flood, very curtly, "I do not *have* a twin, let alone an evil and-or illiterate one."
Aside from that, it was a quiet day: work, poking at fanfics... the usual.
November -- ~2,500 words down; 47,500 to go. I got a good headstart late last night/early this morning, and I also woke up a little earlier than usual to get started. And I managed to get this much done, even though I had to work and go to Mass tonight. Whew!
Now waiting for the MxO updates to download, and me with the 56K dial-up modem. I feel like contacting them and asking if they could just burn the updates onto CD-ROM and send them to me by UPS or FedEx? This could take a while
I asked Constantine if he does Hallowe'en at all. He laughed out loud at me, which set off one of his coughing fits. When he recovered, he said, "Every day is Hallowe'en for me, sort of."
Ref decided to dress as "the Fashion Thing" from the "Sandman" comics, in a slightly messed-up 18th century gown, only trouble is, all last night, she had to keep explaining what she was. We weren't sure what the Merv was gonna dress as, or if he'd dress up for Hallowe'en at all (Not that he has to, he can be scary enough as himself...), but as I was entering the Houseparty's space, I happened to bump right into the Merv: he had his hair bleached blonde-ish and he was wearing a denim jacket over a white tee shirt and blue jeans, topped off with very thick sunglasses. Quite unlike his usual neo-19th century style.
Me: "All right, I'll bite: what the hell are you?"
tM: ::Pushes down the sunglasses revealing the fake pearly whites where his blue-green-greys should be:: "Your worst nightmare." ::Said with an American accent::
Me: "EEK!" ::Internal: Leave it to this guy to dress as the Corinthian::
Unfortunately, Cecie and I decided to have a little fun with this: we kept lobbing "Creepy Peepers" -- Hallowe'en candies that look like eyeballs -- at the Merv's back all evening. He didn't think that was funny at all, and I'm shuddering at what the payback could be.
Hal McGeever on Flood: "I've heard of the fashion police, but this guy is a one-AI version of the fashion Gestapo."
December
Well, I'm managing to pull the fragments of my psyche back together. Oddly enough -- and anyone who thinks soulbonding is a form of demonic possession should take note -- my headspace dwellers have, for the thousandth time, pulled me through the worst, without actually doing anything extraordinary. Certainly not an act of intervention, the way Constantine has done in the past (and which he frankly got sick of doing -- his words, not mine), but something smaller and far more indirect.
I'm not sure who this personage is, but someone in my headspace has been repeating the phrase "Peace on earth, good will toward men... and women... and children... and Exiles... and Machines...", ever since the Christmas/December Holidays decorations went up in the stores. Well, whoever this is, they've gotten louder, but try as I/we might, none of us can figure out who it is. It's either some undifferentiated part of my psyche, or it's a newcomer (I wish I could charge these folks rent sometimes, I'd be rich by now). It also appears to be the same voice who's been screaming "I want Mommy!" when I get especially stressed and upset (and yes, this being has been screaming that a lot lately). Thus, puzzling over who this entity could be and listening to their small message of hope has kept me distracted.
Which reminds me of a funny slogan on a tee-shirt my mom found in a catalog recently, and it's something I imagine a lot of people with headspace dwellers could relate to: "Quiet, voices, or I'll poke you with a Q-Tip!" I love it, since I use Q-Tips a lot to clean the wax build-up out of my ears.
I've also been re-reading what I completed on the as-of-now still untitled fanbrat novel, trying to decide which sections I'm going to post for your enjoyment: there's just too many great parts in it for me to decide easily! I'm trying to get back to working on that, too, but with Christmas coming up, I don't see that I'll get anything substantial done soon.
And speaking of Christmas, I'm doing a major chunk of my shopping tomorrow at the Christmas Fair at St. William's, my old parish. Thus, I won't be online later tonight, no IMing, not even the MxO, since I'll be getting up early to walk up to the church. I've gone there for years, at least since I was 14 or so, and last year was the first year I missed it since I was working/had a cough that wouldn't go away. This year, I'm hoping to make up for it.
January -- Nicked from Neil Gaiman's blog: "May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you're wonderful, and don't to forget make some art -- write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself. "
Words to treasure...
HAPPY 2005!!!
February -- Working... crampy (Female TMI!)... fishing for terribly-written "Matrix" fics to roast on GAFF... writing a few odds and ends of fics and ficlets...
I finished reading Anita Diamant's "The Red Tent" last night: It's gotta be one of the best biblically-inspired novels I've read, and it gives you a completely different perspective on the Old Testament. Most of the time, and Christian writers are the worst offenders, you wind up with the anachronistic notion that all the Old Testament patriarchs and/or matriarchs all practised the Jewish faith, regardless of the fact that it really didn't get nailed down until the time of Moses. I know a lot of readers coming to this novel cold will be shocked to hear about the wives of Jacob revering the early Semitic goddesses like Inanna and Gula, but I found it fascinating and enlightening.
March -- Okay, I missed the Oscars last night, and I didn't have the Ref Award Noms up beforehand: I got busy with work and other things. But... here they are now, though the list is subject to revision, so you might want to bookmark it. This year, we have a new award, the Leo F. Mulhare (Memorial) Lifetime Achievement Award, which is named in honor of my grandfather, the greatest character and one of the best story tellers I knew personally. Without further ado:
BEST PICTURE: "The Passion of the Christ"; "Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow"; "I, Robot";
BEST ACTOR: Jim Caviezal, "The Passion..."; Tom Hanks, "The Terminal";
BEST ACTRESS: Maia Morgenstern, "The Passion..."; Bridget Moynihan, "I, Robot"
BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR: Stanley Tucci, "The Terminal"; Hristos Jivikov, "The Passion..."; Giovanni Ribisi, "Sky Captain..."
BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS: Monica Bellucci/Rosalinda Celantano, "The Passion...";
BEST FILM SCORE: "I, Robot"; "The Passion..."; John Williams, "The Terminal"
BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY: "I, Robot"; "Sky Captain..."; "The Terminal"
BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY: "The Passion..."
BEST DIRECTOR: Mel Gibson, "The Passion..."; Terry Conran, "Sky Captain..."
BEST SPECIAL EFFECTS: "Sky Captain..."; "I, Robot"
BEST ART DESIGN: "Vanity Fair"
BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY/EDITING: "The Passion..."; "I, Robot";
BEST ANIMATED: "The Incredibles"
BEST (MOST NOBLE?) HERO: Elasti-Girl, "The Incredibles"; Joe "Sky Captain" Sullivan, "Sky Captain..."; Jesus Christ, "The Passion...";
BEST (WORST?) VILLAIN: Syndrome, "The Incredibles"; Satan, "The Passion..."; The security head, "The Terminal"; The Mysterious Woman, "Sky Captain..."
"I-DIDN'T-SEE-THAT-COMING" AWARD: The true nature of the Mysterious Woman, "Sky Captain..."; Gupta's way to help Navorsky sneak out, "The Terminal"; Claire's master plan, "The Stepford Wives"
MOST MEMORABLE LINE: "Lens-cap", "Sky Captain..."; "Behold, mother, I make all things new...". "The Passion..."
LEO F. MULHARE (MEMORIAL) LIFETIME ACHIEVEMENT AWARD: Jerry Orbach [posthumous]
April -- I am not going to mention the News Item That Nearly Killed Me. I don't want to start any arguments, and I'm putting it behind me. It wasn't my battle, but I hope to God that I never get in the middle of something like that.
But... I had a great day other than that. I went into Lowell: printed out some stuff, collected a few needed pictures and things. I nipped into the Barnes and Noble downtown and got the "Star Wars Episode III" comic book tie-in (A friend of mine online did some of the artwork on it ::Waves:: Hi, Laurie!!) and one of the "Hellblazer" collections, "Rare Cuts".
My folks and I went up to the Northshore Mall, partly to poke around the Carmelite Gift Shop and partly to bring Mark his Easter basket/present; he works nights at the Carmelites' shop. I got Gabriel Amorth's "An Exorcist: More Stories", a follow-up to his "An Exorcist Tells His Story"; the author is the Chief Exorcist of Rome, in case you were wondering. I re-read his first book after seeing "Constantine" earlier in March. Mark and I nipped into the *large* B&N up there: I was looking for Neil Gaiman's "Smoke and Mirrors" short story collection, as well as any of the "Sandman" books. I got the follow-up to the main comics "The Dream Hunters", and when I went to pay for it and "Smoke and Mirrors", Mark suprised me by paying for the latter: he kinda hijacked the book from me. He had a gift card he hadn't used, so he made me an Easter present of that book. Ain't he sweet!
Then, we went to the IMAX theatre at Jordan's Furniture in Woburn, where we saw "Robots". The plot is a bit thin: a young robot with big dreams ventures to the big city to fulfill that dream, only to find that he has to help that city save itself, as part of making his dream come true. But the sight gags and the visuals and the characters and the voice talents are what really make the movie work, like a colorful, giant Rube Goldberg contraption.
May -- Just read this on Neil Gaiman's weblog, an extract from his speech at the Nebula Awards:
Gene Wolfe pointed out to me, five years ago, when I proudly told him, at the end of the first draft of American Gods, that I thought I'd figured out how to write a novel, that you never learn how to write a novel. You merely learn how to write the novel you're on. He's right, of course. The paradox is that by the time you've figured out to do it, you've done it. And the next one, if it's going to satisfy the urge to create something new, is probably going to be so different that you may as well be starting from scratch, with the alphabet.
June-- The AP, the Associated Press, one of the most reliable and prominent news sources in the country, has picked up our story; I just found out, via the Yahoo Group for the bunch of us trying to save my parish, that the New York Times is going to carry a story about the impending closing.
You can dodge the issue, O'Malley and "Manning", but you can't hide behind your excuses forever. To paraphrase the Merovingian, we survived the Know-Nothings torching the original wood-frame structure in the 1850s, and we will survive *you*.
The exterior. The steeple got knocked off the belltower during a hurricane in the 1930s, but it's still a great example of German Gothic architecture
The interior, facing the sanctuary. This is an older picture: a few years back, the walls behind the altar were painted blue
July -- Finally got my hair cut, since it was bugging me to no end: it was making me hot, and it was getting caught in my shirt/work-jacket collar constantly. I've gone from looking like a weedy version of Death, in the "Sandman" comics, to looking like a slightly shorter, scrawnier version of Trinity (to my eyes: I've discovered to my shock that the cropped hair-do, combined with the glasses and the shape of my face, makes me look like Daniel "Wooden!Harry Potter" Radcliffe's big sister).
August -- I'm almost finished with Chapter Five of "The Smoke of Satan..." which should be hitting this LJ some time tomorrow night. It's only a short chapter, but the damn thing came out in fragments, so I've been trying to knock it into some semblence of coherance as I type it, which has slowed down the process.
That and I've borrowed the Demon-Hunter's Holy Shotgun and used it to hunt down some Sues in the fandom. I've already trussed one up over on the Place Where Badfics Are Sporked; the other one will be on display tomorrow night.
I don't know what exactly went on, but early this morning, I spotted a rather pleased-looking Flood emerge from Cecie's room. We gotta get her back with Joe somehow, before she starts helping the Floodwatchman concoct some little scheme against his boss: Cecie detests the Merv (She's an even bigger "Matrix" geek than I am: she thinks I'm utterly wierd for having a crush on the Merv. What I want to known is why she's getting friendly with his 2IC...), to the point of trying to get a poke at him once in a while, which makes the Keymaker wonder if she's some relation to Trinity.
September -- Another lovely Neo/Trin fic: I love writing this pair as much as I love writing a younger Merv/Perse...
Title: New to Zion
Day/Theme: September 1: Here we are
Series: The Matrix
Character/Pairing: Neo/Trinity
Rating: G
Note: Takes place just after the first movie.
Trinity led the way along the maze of passageways leading from the freight elevator to Zion's rabbit warren of apartments, hewn out of the living rock. Neo followed close at her heels; he'd wanted to carry her duffle-bag for her, but she had insisted she could handle it: he was still shaky after that hit he'd taken in the Matrix. As they walked along the catwalk past a row of other rooms, she glanced back to him; like any newcomer to Zion, he peered around him, taking in his new environment, which had to be almost completely alien to him. His gaze met hers: he'd clearly sensed her looking at him. A shy smile crossed his face and she felt the corners of her mouth quirk up.
"So this is home?" he asked.
"It's the only home base I've known since I unplugged thirteen years ago," she replied. "We're almost there."
She paused in front of one of the doors and took a key on a cord attached to a ring inside an outer pocket of her bag and unlocked the door. She pushed the door open, letting him enter first. "Here we are," she said.
"Looks cozy," he said, stepping through the door.
"Watch your step: the floor is lower than the door," she warned. Even as she said it, he stumbled a little, but didn't fall. She put her free hand out and caught him under the shoulder.
"I'm okay," he said, reassuring her, but he let her hand steady him as she stepped into the room, after him, her gaze meeting his as she set down her duffle and turned him toward her.
EDITED TO ADD: Got this in under the wire...
Title: Chatelaine
Day/Theme: September 1: Here we are
Series: The Matrix
Character/Pairing: Merovingian/Persephone
Rating: PG
They had to hurry before the gatekeepers found her, or before they traced his antiquated code, so different from the codestream that sustained them. Merovee led Persephone along the twisting alleys of the city, their footsteps almost deafening against the night-time stillness, he keeping his ears open to the sounds of approaching intruders, she trying not to look back.
"How much further have we to go?" she asked, keeping her voice low.
"Not many more steps, ma cher," he replied, pressing her hand in his, in reassurance. She tasted his strength in that touch and let it give her a sense of safety.
They came to the back door of what appeared to be a high-class restaraunt, on the ground floor of a high-rise hotel building. With a key on the ring in his coat pocker, Merovee unlocked the door.
"Here?" she asked, puzzled.
"Yes, this is but the gatehouse, concealing the entrance," he said. He pulled open the door and held it for her, letting her enter first. He stepped in after her and pulled the door shut behind them.
They entered the darkened kitchen, lit only by the dull red light from the "Exit" sign above them. He guided her past hard-edged shadows of tables and countertops and fixtures. Approaching the double doors to what she guessed was a closet, he let her hand go and took a key from a chain about his neck, under his shirt. His shadow moved across the doors as he unlocked them. The key clicked in the lock; code crackled as he accessed another sector.
A sliver of light cut through the shadows and widened as he pulled the doors open on a high-ceilinged Baroque entryway. Persephone looked up in awe at the plasterwork above, the crystal and gilt chandelier that lit the hallway, the marble-paneled walls and floor.
"Merovee, this is your dwelling?" she asked.
"Yes, it is: my castle in sore need of a chatelaine," he replied. He took her hands in his and led her over the threshold, into another life...
October -- Reminder to self...
...Firewall my brain when I'm reading the news feed on the MxO website, since that will eliminate some, if not all, of the insecurity bouts and shouting and eyerolling from certain members of the collective. An announcement in the "Sentinal", the MxO's "newspaper", that someone had been dropping leaflets with odd slogans on them, including "Don't Trust The Frenchman", has upset Ref -- who knows her significant other is shifty at best, and feels like her face is being rubbed in it -- and angered the Merv, so we all had to listen to him grumbling in French all evening. I'm glad I barely understand him... Well, I may not be able to get every word he's saying, but I think I know the gist of it: he's only doing this to survive when the Machines tried to destroy him and his kind, and if that means less than gentle means, so be it. And then there was this hidden link on the same page, to a secret message which some people are claiming came from the Merv's second-in-command; said entity took one look at it and said it certainly wasn't from him: "The grammatics are too flawed for this to be anything *I* wrote. And what's with the inverse equilateral triangles in place of single quotatation marks?!" Said I: "Maybe it's from your evil, illiterate twin?" Said Flood, very curtly, "I do not *have* a twin, let alone an evil and-or illiterate one."
Aside from that, it was a quiet day: work, poking at fanfics... the usual.
November -- ~2,500 words down; 47,500 to go. I got a good headstart late last night/early this morning, and I also woke up a little earlier than usual to get started. And I managed to get this much done, even though I had to work and go to Mass tonight. Whew!
Now waiting for the MxO updates to download, and me with the 56K dial-up modem. I feel like contacting them and asking if they could just burn the updates onto CD-ROM and send them to me by UPS or FedEx? This could take a while
I asked Constantine if he does Hallowe'en at all. He laughed out loud at me, which set off one of his coughing fits. When he recovered, he said, "Every day is Hallowe'en for me, sort of."
Ref decided to dress as "the Fashion Thing" from the "Sandman" comics, in a slightly messed-up 18th century gown, only trouble is, all last night, she had to keep explaining what she was. We weren't sure what the Merv was gonna dress as, or if he'd dress up for Hallowe'en at all (Not that he has to, he can be scary enough as himself...), but as I was entering the Houseparty's space, I happened to bump right into the Merv: he had his hair bleached blonde-ish and he was wearing a denim jacket over a white tee shirt and blue jeans, topped off with very thick sunglasses. Quite unlike his usual neo-19th century style.
Me: "All right, I'll bite: what the hell are you?"
tM: ::Pushes down the sunglasses revealing the fake pearly whites where his blue-green-greys should be:: "Your worst nightmare." ::Said with an American accent::
Me: "EEK!" ::Internal: Leave it to this guy to dress as the Corinthian::
Unfortunately, Cecie and I decided to have a little fun with this: we kept lobbing "Creepy Peepers" -- Hallowe'en candies that look like eyeballs -- at the Merv's back all evening. He didn't think that was funny at all, and I'm shuddering at what the payback could be.
Hal McGeever on Flood: "I've heard of the fashion police, but this guy is a one-AI version of the fashion Gestapo."
December
Well, I'm managing to pull the fragments of my psyche back together. Oddly enough -- and anyone who thinks soulbonding is a form of demonic possession should take note -- my headspace dwellers have, for the thousandth time, pulled me through the worst, without actually doing anything extraordinary. Certainly not an act of intervention, the way Constantine has done in the past (and which he frankly got sick of doing -- his words, not mine), but something smaller and far more indirect.
I'm not sure who this personage is, but someone in my headspace has been repeating the phrase "Peace on earth, good will toward men... and women... and children... and Exiles... and Machines...", ever since the Christmas/December Holidays decorations went up in the stores. Well, whoever this is, they've gotten louder, but try as I/we might, none of us can figure out who it is. It's either some undifferentiated part of my psyche, or it's a newcomer (I wish I could charge these folks rent sometimes, I'd be rich by now). It also appears to be the same voice who's been screaming "I want Mommy!" when I get especially stressed and upset (and yes, this being has been screaming that a lot lately). Thus, puzzling over who this entity could be and listening to their small message of hope has kept me distracted.
Which reminds me of a funny slogan on a tee-shirt my mom found in a catalog recently, and it's something I imagine a lot of people with headspace dwellers could relate to: "Quiet, voices, or I'll poke you with a Q-Tip!" I love it, since I use Q-Tips a lot to clean the wax build-up out of my ears.
I've also been re-reading what I completed on the as-of-now still untitled fanbrat novel, trying to decide which sections I'm going to post for your enjoyment: there's just too many great parts in it for me to decide easily! I'm trying to get back to working on that, too, but with Christmas coming up, I don't see that I'll get anything substantial done soon.
And speaking of Christmas, I'm doing a major chunk of my shopping tomorrow at the Christmas Fair at St. William's, my old parish. Thus, I won't be online later tonight, no IMing, not even the MxO, since I'll be getting up early to walk up to the church. I've gone there for years, at least since I was 14 or so, and last year was the first year I missed it since I was working/had a cough that wouldn't go away. This year, I'm hoping to make up for it.