inreaction

This is all I’ve typed so far, more to come as the week progresses. Critiques appreciated. Are the characters dynamic? Does the voice come through? Is it ambiguous what the narrator knows / feels (I hope so)? UPDATED BELOW with parts III – V

Guy’s Life

I.

Guy’s body is growing old. Each day he wakes up, pours coarsely ground Italian roast into his one-cup French press, almost scalding himself as he pours the boiling water from the kettle over the grinds. ‘Just off the boil.’ What does that even mean?

He’s out the door now, heading on his Schwinn to the Los Angeles University Undergraduate Library. From 10:00 to 4:45 (the terms of his schedule – an hour later than the students and fifteen minutes less than even the insane boss – are a note of great pride fo Guy) he sits behind a slightly outdated white iMac and does as little as possible.

But as he maneuvers his mornings and days, his body grows increasingly fatigued. His wrist cracks audible as he tilts the morning’s whistling kettle. His back clenches as he leans over the bike, knees harmonizing with each jarring gearshift. I really need a car, each morning as he throws one hip over the ball-bashing seat.

So Guy – a symphony of discomforts at just 44 –sits at his white Mac and drifts from one manufacturer to another. Ford? Not what it used to be. Kia? Never buy Korean.

He has been pooling his library paychecks for 12 years now, and though his TV set him back, he is ready to pull the trigger.

But he can’t. Like a young man eyeing the object of his clandestine affection, he approaches the very idea of owning a with such a sense of intimidation that it is unclear if he will ever feel the ownership that a new automobile’s mere aroma imparts upon its proud driver.

The late 70’s Schwinn was not so bad. Biking was, after all, making quite a hipster return to LA’s streets. But its steel frame is too much for Guy. Last week, he was crossing Wilshire when a shiny black BMW decided it needed to make a right before Guy’s red rocket could pass (this happens in many places – Santa Monica’s behemoth parking lot exits become honker’s havens at the first sight of delay). Guy tried to turn to the right as the Bavarian beauty cut him off. The remaining forward momentum he had built up did not yield, and he was thrust into the car as the bike’s chain tore. The driver kept going on its busy path, leaving a humiliated and scratched Guy to hitch a ride from a Korean LAU student. Read the rest of this entry »