 |
|
Home The Stories Kitchen Table Night Traffic Basement Pokhara Foucault's Nightmare Homophobia, Darling Cold Silence Los Feliz Judy Ten Million Years The Last Saturday in May Angel First and Fiftieth Ben and Joe's Sunset Buy Commentary Reviews The Author Biography Bibliography A View from the Edge God would be an atheist Contact The Publishers 
Supporting advertisers helps to provide an income for this website. Clicking on Paypal and advertiser links may allow these companies to gather and use information about your visit to this and other websites; that information may be used to provide you with advertisements about goods and services presumed to be of interest to you. this page last updated 9 July 2009 |
An Angeleno in his thirties
How do I know? Because I drive the freeways, every freaking day of the week. Eight, ten hours a day. I’m a consultant. Office equipment. Photocopiers, computers, the usual. A troubleshooter. A problem anywhere in LA and I’m the guy they call in. Orange County too if the local guys can’t handle it. Sure, I do some repairs. I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty, but that’s not my job. I’m the guy who deals with the problems the repairman can’t handle. I’d tell you about it but it’s too technical and it’s the end of the day and the last thing I want to do is talk about work. Let’s forget work. Let’s drink to the good things in life, like early retirement, your horse coming in first, wine, women and song. No, I’m not married. Used to be, then the wife and I had a disagreement. She pulled out. One. Six years old and the cutest little girl you ever saw. Not that I’ve seen much of her lately. The wife took her to Arizona, back to live with her parents. I pay child support but, let’s be honest, I’m not much of a Dad. Never was. I was too busy working. I’d come in at eight. The kid would be asleep or she’d be all over me wanting to play a game. I’d just want to flop out, see what’s on the sports channels, watch a sitcom. It would be okay if she was a boy, she could watch with me, but a girl, you got nothing in common. Maybe when she’s grown a little things’ll work out better. No-one. Not at the moment. I’ve been looking around all right since Linda left, but... Except one. Now there’s a story, sums up women in a nutshell, it does. Tells you why a man should remain a bachelor all his freaking life. Next story: Judy 
Custom Search
|
"Sometimes you sit, watch the trains, the sunset, the rain. Sometimes you talk. Tell your story if you've a mind to. Trouble is, memory changes things. Things you want to forget. Things you want to remember that never happened. Happens to everybody. Gets so, nobody's story's true. Not yours, not mine. But it's all we've got." First and Fiftieth I'm not sure where the inspiration for this story came from. The narrator, the woman and their very different perspectives all emerged at the same time, but neither character is modeled on anyone I know. It will not surprise you that when I lived in Los Angeles (in the mid 1990s) I was fascinated by freeway system. After three years there, it still gave me a thrill to get on the 101 or the 10 and drive for hours, watching different faces of the city slip by. The story itself may not be the best in this collection, but it's one of my favourites... E-BOOK: £3.50 
PAPERBACK: from £6.00 signed copy from the author from the publisher Paradise Press by the author 
|
