There's no longer layers of secrets - there's only one, and it's the most important secret.
But back to Carson. He's the free-wheeling uncle who blows into town when the wind pushes him that way. He's thirty-six, but retains a boyishness and refusal to grow up and face responsibility that likens him to Peter Pan. He owns neither a dependent animal nor a coffee table. He has never been married - in fact, any attempts at all to probe into his romantic life prove utterly fruitless: it is either so non-existent or so convoluted that it will never come to light.
(When Lou is twenty-four she will run into Carson at some family function and suddenly understand ever aspect of his psychology in a single epiphanic flash.)
Carson is erratic, a little bit manic depressive, a lot of an optimist. He anticipates every plan ending in success, puts justice first... and still, after all of his hospitalizations and rehabilitations and the abuse he's been put through, believes that people are fundamentally good. Carson remains a Hero not only because it's the only thing he knows how to do but because he believes in the work.
I like the airiness and the energy this new draft is giving me. I was told to let the play breathe - and I hope I'm doing that.
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