The Yellow Window (458 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 0.51 on 29 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by <monkeylove.at.easy.com> (View user info) at 2008-04-28 06:09:08 EDT
Jayne says the only way forward is to satisfy the what, the where, the when, the how, and the why. She calls these the five interrogatives of resolution. But then Jayne says a lot of things. She says he ought to start writing and there's entry forms for a competition on the coffee table in reception. And she says she's brought the next session forward to the coming Friday. 'Competition closes in two weeks' she adds when he's reaching for his coat.
Last week a tramp was stabbed to death in the small park next to her building and still the police tape cordons off his shortcut. He stamps down the hill with its red brick solicitors' offices and late night bars and bookshops and off-licences and estate agents, before passing under the scaffolds of the university extension, the copper sheet facade already oxidizing green from the sea air. A lot of construction happening in this part of town but the next recession will put an end to it. South-West always suffers first. Half way down Mayflower Street he stops off to collect his weekly order and by the time he's carried the boxes to the car park great patches of sweat have darkened the underarms of his shirt. Neon lights flash over the oily concrete. The boot slams shut. He looks at himself in the window, remembering with a sigh he's got to spend a tenner in the supermarket to get the free parking. It's another twenty minutes before he's on the road.
As usual the traffic chokes the top of Molesworth and he shifts hot and turns down the radio so he can hear himself. It had started as a drunken treatise one evening on how the council had conspired to turn the lights against him by implanting a micro-chip in his bumper. And it had sort of developed into a wooden horse that got ridden harder each time he wheeled it out. The council employed covert traffic agents to monitor the progress of his every journey so whenever he approached a junction they would radio ahead and unleash a chain of cars to prolong his wait. The same agents would ensure he seldom got a parking space, and they probably tuned the speed cameras onto his frequency so he'd get a flash for speeding. He sometimes wondered just how powerful that chip really was. Maybe it could be connected to the frequency of the transmitter masts, which would certainly explain the trials-by-telephone he'd been subjected to of late. The traffic notches forward. 'Oh thank you Mr red light - saw me did you? Couldn't possibly let through more than three cars at once now could we? Thank you very much indeed.' Shifting his weight with a gasp, he snatches a handkerchief from his shirt pocket and mops his forehead. The pills have wrung every drop of fluid from around his heart and by the time he gets the car in the drive he's desperate to pee. The bins still haven't been collected.
* * * * * * * *
The pine kitchen table bore the crescent scar from the jam jar he'd slammed down some years back. From where he was seated, the window looked out across the driveway and the ragged brown wilderness of the elderly neighbour's garden. He took out a pad of paper from the drawer and a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. He decided he wanted to start with the what. And what, he wondered, would that be? Their marriage, presumably, but it wasn't clear - things seldom were where Jayne was concerned. He decided he would write about how they met and see how it went.
They had both been at a works do several months after the finalisation of his first divorce. He stood by the punchbowl with his jokes and his tie for most of the evening, refilling his glass too often and progressing to morose. Jill came over to him and took the ladle from his hand, said he should save some for her. Somehow he contrived a pass and somehow she contrived not to recoil from it. They went to back to his house and shared his bed but that was all that happened. Nothing more. She left early to fetch her uniform and called when she said she would and from there it just escalated. If anything, it was she who made most of the early pursuit. On several occasions he was in two minds whether or not to keep it going. But there was something in him which tended to pitch for the improbable. He'd not even found her that attractive and for a time was unable to imagine them as a couple. It's strange how that sort of sentiment can come full circle: at first you can't picture somebody being part of your life and before you know it you can't picture them not being so. Absent from him she ceased to exist.
At a quarter past three the cat came in through her flap and started crying for food. But when he thudded into the kitchen to feed her she bolted down the steps and sat in the middle of the garden half quizzical half defiant. He took some Coley fillets from the freezer, microwaved them soft, slid them into the bowl he'd just bought. With her fork he broke the fish into pieces, his glasses steaming over as he did so. She'd be back. She'd eat the lot when his back was turned.
He opened another bottle and considered the where. Where? He had his theories. The most likely of the wheres was Trudy's, with the new carpets and the big television and the pictures of her son all the way up the staircase like a shrine. At the time he'd been more than happy to slip out of the invite and let Jill attend alone. There was a game on that evening and the fridge was full of beer. To be honest, he wasn't that keen on Trudy anyway: the woman was a leech. Whenever she came round he ended up watching the clock, silently screaming for her to sod off home, and silently screaming at Jill for wasting so much energy on her and for getting too tired and too drunk to make love. He'd drain half her glass every time she went to the bathroom just to try and keep her sober. And the conversation invariably consisted of angsty monologues about how the ex-husband refused her this or refused her that. As if it was the done thing. Burden your hosts with your problems. And Jill remained so patient. But this is digression. In the event, it seems United weren't the only ones to have scored that night. Something was different from thereon in. Jill came back swaying, stumbled up the stairs, and was asleep by the time he reached her, curled up and impenetrable
User Reviews
Submitted by woolfe (user info) at 2008-04-29 10:41:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Yawn-inducing
Submitted by SkullBiter (user info) at 2008-04-29 04:06:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Only when its shite.
:D
Submitted by jasumthin (user info) at 2008-04-28 22:09:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by HotWillie (user info) at 2008-04-28 16:04:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by experima (user info) at 2008-04-28 10:38:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by monkeyswithguns (user info) at 2008-04-28 08:55:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2008-04-28 06:28:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
So yeah, here's the thing:
I couldn't read this. Just couldn't. I'd read 4 sentances and then my brain just shut down. I'm sat here with my stapler in my hand, pointing it at the desk tidy quietly going "pieu, pieu" absent mindedly thinking that there was something I'm meant to be doing.
I blame that post with the pier and the drowning woman. It has eroded my ability to concentrate.
...
pieu, pieu, dakka dakka, woosh
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2008-04-28 08:51:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I admit it was a bit labored to read in places, but the style in general is OK has the potential to be an interesting story. It definitely reads as unfinished, I'll read the next chapter when you post it.
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2008-04-28 08:49:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
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Submitted by Toshi (user info) at 2008-04-28 13:46:40 BST (#)
Ranking: 0
Hi Orphelia,
You confused me by refeering to me like that. I just want people to read my work and give me honest feedback, I am studying for my BSC at the minute.
Thanks.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
lol.
What has science got to do with ... on never mind.
You spell like TheGoat.
:)
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2008-04-28 08:47:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Good luck with your Bronze Swimming Certificate mate.
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2008-04-28 08:47:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I very much like your first two posts, I will rate later.
Please cease from rating mine, sending them round the MRR breaks Uber and makes Bart weep.
Submitted by Toshi (user info) at 2008-04-28 08:46:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Hi Orphelia,
You confused me by refeering to me like that. I just want people to read my work and give me honest feedback, I am studying for my BSC at the minute.
Thanks.
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2008-04-28 08:42:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
What, are you actually saying you are not an alter?
the 'ummmmmm' shit, quit it, you sound like el
Submitted by Toshi (user info) at 2008-04-28 08:39:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
ummm ok
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2008-04-28 08:33:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Oooh look, some other coward not able to post shit on their original account.
P-lease.
Submitted by Toshi (user info) at 2008-04-28 08:22:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Sorry I didnt realise you needed something to look at. Reading must get tough.
Submitted by SkullBiter (user info) at 2008-04-28 07:59:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
You don't have a picture.
:D
Submitted by SkullBiter (user info) at 2008-04-28 07:30:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2008-04-28 06:28:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
So yeah, here's the thing:
I couldn't read this. Just couldn't. I'd read 4 sentances and then my brain just shut down. I'm sat here with my stapler in my hand, pointing it at the desk tidy quietly going "pieu, pieu" absent mindedly thinking that there was something I'm meant to be doing.
I blame that post with the pier and the drowning woman. It has eroded my ability to concentrate.
...
pieu, pieu, dakka dakka, woosh
===
My work here is done.
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2008-04-28 07:05:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
It is good to see that once again Berty leads public opinion. I am so massivly bigged up now that Berty shall refer to himself in the third person.
Submitted by DrogoRoch (user info) at 2008-04-28 07:04:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I tried with this I really did. For some reason i couldnt get into it. I really struggled. Jill/Jayne?? I got confused what and who and why we were reading about them. I reached the end and other than: Divorcee who was also pretty bored of his new bit and???
Sorry I have nothing else. This actually made me feel like I havent woken up properly yet, which is worrying as it may mean my reports are fucked up, now I have to go back and check them and that kind of annoys me.
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2008-04-28 06:55:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No, you've got to write whatever you want however you want and learn SUB-CONSIOUSLY.
Otherwise it isn't learning, it is play acting. Writing is like being a boy in a strict Victorian houshold; you wear a special spiked ring on your dick so that when you have an erection at night you hurt yourself. Only then can you truly learn to be a damaged individual, or 'writer'.
Submitted by HurtByTheSun (user info) at 2008-04-28 06:53:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Nothing wrong with the paragraphs for me, I just think it's kind of boring and a bit clunky.
Submitted by Toshi (user info) at 2008-04-28 06:49:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I am not horrid. Only if you mix my apples and oranges.
I shall remember to write in paragraphs containing 3 lines in future.
Lines of coke to burn ones eyeballs.
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2008-04-28 06:46:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Right then you horrid little man, I will break this down for you.
What you have created here is a monolithic pain in the arse. You don't read this, you demolish it with your eyeballs. There's no flow, no sexy accesability. It is like reading maths and for us English (and English derivitives) it is very early in the morning for that sort of thing.
Now I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt because I'm sure that if Ghostbusters has taught me anything it is that even whithin the incinerated, rock-like remains of a hell dog there may be a hot bird trying to get out.
Submitted by F.J.Bell (user info) at 2008-04-28 06:43:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No, they're not exactly complex or anything, but things read better on uber if they are chopped up into paragraphs of two or three lines.
At least that's what I find.
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2008-04-28 06:41:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Toshi (user info) at 2008-04-28 06:35:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Well that's something Berty.
At least you said something, Uber seems to prefer chatroom posts.
---------------------------
Banter is the best bit of Uber, Toshi. It is like beautiful people leaping about in a park and doing kung fu, only with words. And ugly people. In a car park.
Still kung fu though.
Submitted by Toshi (user info) at 2008-04-28 06:39:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Chunky????
I guess that's constructive criticism but I fail to see how you can identify many of the paragraphs as being 'chunky'
Submitted by F.J.Bell (user info) at 2008-04-28 06:37:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I couldn't read much of this, possibly because the paragraphs were quite chunky. The first couple of lines were okay but then after that it all kind of merged into 'block o' text'.
Maybe I need my vision tested.
Submitted by Toshi (user info) at 2008-04-28 06:35:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Well that's something Berty.
At least you said something, Uber seems to prefer chatroom posts.
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2008-04-28 06:28:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
So yeah, here's the thing:
I couldn't read this. Just couldn't. I'd read 4 sentances and then my brain just shut down. I'm sat here with my stapler in my hand, pointing it at the desk tidy quietly going "pieu, pieu" absent mindedly thinking that there was something I'm meant to be doing.
I blame that post with the pier and the drowning woman. It has eroded my ability to concentrate.
...
pieu, pieu, dakka dakka, woosh