This is an interesting story but the writing style is so poor I can't make it through. Prose this disjointed would probably make a decent screenplay but it's a bad fit for an essay.
He can turn a clever phrase, but he tends to indulge himself. When he does, he gets way too cute. He's got the descriptive power to be a great writer, but he needs to be a better self editor.
Reading this story reminded me of my endurance-slog through the first few chapters of A Game of Thrones. George R. R. Martin is a fantastic storyteller, but he's also a serial adjective abuser. Same thing here. The story almost gets lost in the words. What we gain in postcard moments, we lose in pacing and flow.
And frankly, the style isn't very good to begin with. It feels inflated and cloying, like a freshman essay in strong need of an editor. But even if it were an exemplar of its style, I'd still hold it to be unnecessary here.
Is that even a sentence?
"logorrheic caddy, yippy-yapping about" or "the crash led to them having some pretty heavy ding-dongs" - this may as well be French from as well as I understand what is trying to be said.
Hint:(nope)
It is. I struggled to make it through two paragraphs.
Unlike Euclidean geometry, arithmetic rises directly from the wayward
human heart, the lub-dub under the physician's stethoscope or the lover's
ear (sounding very much like the words "so soon, it ends"), impossible to
hear without a mournful mental echo: 1, 2, 3, 4, ..., the doubled sounds,
that beating heart, those numerical echoes, cohering perfectly for as long
as any of us can count.