Kevin

For weeks now I've revelled in being able to "master" the reverse-the-car-out-of-the-house manouvre. Its simple enough, and I, like a child, take pleasure at reversing it in full speed; displaying abjuration at the necessity that is the brakes. My mum hates it, and everytime I do it I'll hear a shrill cry of "SYAZAAA SLOW DOWN"..etc. And in return I'll chuckle, delightfully. Its not a case of showing off or poking fun for the sake of it, its giving myself that (here come a yucky cliche) 'adrenaline rush' which I find so insatiable above everything else. The act of letting everything go and putting everything at risk all at the same time. Jumping off a cliff, hoping to land in a safety net only 2mX2m big, for example. But, as usual, the things that I do (which don't receive my mum's blessings, which can amount to many, many things) always come to bite me in the ass sooner or later. This time, I reversed the car at too quick a speed and lo, I hit a taxi parked outside my house long before the 'car-reverse-alarm' could tell me anything. I was mortified, my well-crafted reverse had met with a flaw, big-time, and without anyone to turn to and petrified of meeting the ramifications, I ran away, never to come back. But, no, honestly, it was all 'much ado over nothing'. No scratch on my car, nothing on the taxi, a bump that left no traceable evidence at the slightest. In short, the whole thing was uneventful, anti-climactic and most importantly, uneventful. Have I mentioned anti-climactic? "I didn't do nothing" (thug style).



I've been reading 'We Need To Talk About Kevin' and its an amazing book. Its the type of writing one can only dream of, Lionel Shriver has a way of writing that is fixating. I've come across alot of authors that are just top-notch in their delivery, but hers, to me, is close to perfection.