…he is not chosen for the jury. He gets as far as the courtroom for the interview process between the attorneys and potential jurors. He even gets a seat inside the box. But he finds himself so baffled by the line of questions from both the defense and the prosecution, so surprised at their apparent lack of communication skills, so impatient with people who want to tell their stories but inevitably end up saying their experiences would not color their ability to be fair and impartial, that he just clams up, doesn’t say a word. The attorneys end up learning absolutely nothing about him, so why would he be picked? Don’t misunderstand; he’s not disappointed. Did he sabotage his own chances to avoid serving? He doesn’t think so, but simultaneously understands that his lack of participation likely prevented him from being chosen. It’s all good. He’s happy to get out by noon, to have an opportunity to visit a new record store in downtown Oregon City, where he looks around for a while, but doesn’t buy anything. He drives home for lunch and a nap. The alarm went off at 6 a.m. this morning, and that hasn’t happened in a really long time.
He started a new book today, James, by Percival Everett. He’s excited about this retelling of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn from the perspective of Jim, Huckleberry’s “friend,” Miss Watson’s slave. Only two chapters in today, but already convinced that this will be a wild ride. His first revelation: Jim is the first person narrator in this novel and speaks (or writes) perfect American English, but code-switches in the dialogue! That is a masterful and profound move, he is certain. He wants to think about this some more.
Finally, he has no idea why he has started to write about himself in the third person.
michael jarmer 