The end of a short I wrote for my creative writing coursework

Its day break and my sandpaper mouth and I have found ourselves waking up in the company of strangers. Faces that look as haggard as I feel glance up at me discerningly before falling back on to pillows and empty patches of kitchen floor; I guess that’s my cue to leave and lord knows I’m going to take it.

Grimacing all the way, I pull myself up off of the sofa I was lucky enough to have passed out in, make my way over to front door and from there to the bus stop. I light a cigarette my mouth is far too dry to smoke and I sit and wait for the bus to pull up and take me away from the ghost of last night and in to the warmth and comfort of my own bed and the familiar solitude of my own bitter company.

A man sat next to me smiles a little as I choke and cough on my own cigarette smoke, I’m not entirely sure if I feign one back or not but I sure as hell know that I’ve never felt less inclined to smile back at anyone in my entire life.

It’s the long and depressing ride home that hits me the hardest, leaving me with nothing to do but think about my life and how sour things have gotten for me as of late, and how sour I’ve made things for just about everyone I’ve come in to contact within the last six or so months.
As far away from happiness as I’ve ever been, I place my pounding little head against the window and draw little lowercase X’s in the condensation.

I cast my mind back to the night before: drinks too tall, anecdotes half slurred, half spat, the argument Sara and I had for what must have been the seventh time that week and the harsh exchange of bitter truths and threats that don’t sound as empty as they did three weeks ago.

“I’m telling you now; I have had it up to here with you and your self deprecating bullshit!”

“Oh, yeah? Like I have time to deal with you and your absolute refusal to at least flirt with the idea of looking at the bigger picture; what is it you do when you’re not busy thinking about yourself?”

Bitter put downs and snide remarks trailed off in to the ether...

And that was just the bus ride from my house to wherever the hell that party was.
Funny thing is; I can’t for the life of me figure out who was in the wrong back there, nor can I understand why it is the two of us are only ever happy when it’s at the other’s expense.

It’s a life lead in the dark with one hand constantly hovering over the self destruct button, the best and the most I can do about any of this is –

My phone rings and I lose my train of thought. It’s my mother of course and for a moment I debate as to whether or not I should take the call or fall asleep.

I choose the latter

How about....

These are some pictures my ex girlfriend sent to me a while ago. Her dad drew them I think. He studied history at cambridge or oxford and now he's a builder. Strange.

Let me tell you about radical ghosts,little boys with sheets over their heads

Listen i never said that i wasn't afraid of whatever it is im not supposed to be afraid of, and those radical ghosts have been chasing me up all night,
little spooks why'd you bother me so?
im just a man with an itch and conscience painted all blue and black, thats the color of guilt

oh it wasn't my fault that the gallows didn't break
it was never my intention, no, i never really meant...
oh god its just that the hang man had been calling all day and all night

what's a boy to do when he's in such high demand?
its just so rare, you know?
but whatever little spooks
you want a dead man screaming? well i'll give you fuckers this:

hold a sheet, hold a hand, hold a bag over your head
and just keep talking, we'll see where it gets you.

boo.

seeing semi literate shit like this pop up on my facebook feeds page every now and then slightly makes up for the five years of torture that was secondary school.

look at these faggots, he spelt come like cum, doesn't he know how gay that is!?

none of what they've typed is ironic either.

ffffff





Uh, here's some music I wish i'd made: www.myspace.com/iamsorrydarling

Jawbreaker

at new years, towards the end of the night before we were leaving, we were all sat in some girls room sort of coming down and just waiting to get kicked out. i was listening to 24 hour revenge therapy by jawbreaker. i dont think i can listen to certain songs on this album without pretending i'm Blake Schwarzenbach.

ashtray monument came on and i was sort of drumming my thighs without really realising it, i was really going for it and i guess it looked stupid 'cause some people saw and started laughing.

i said to them though, i said i was just listening to some music. they apologised for laughing, and laughed a little more hahaha, i guess i kinda did look stupid.

but, if they knew i was listening to jawbreaker they'd understand completely.

anyway, click the picture and download 24 revenge therapy. listen to songs like "ache", "ashtray monument" and "condition, Oakland"; despite the faggy names, they're all pretty great new years day comedown songs, hell, they're great songs for any sort of day.

see for yourself if you'd drum yourself into mild embarassment listening to this album.

no parkin' on the dancefloor

Yes um.
Went to see fourtet dj at plastic people last night, was pretty enjoyable actually.

I went for a cigarette at one point and had to go to the off license and buy some, whilst I was there a bunch of girls that live at Ewen Henderson who I barely know and have never really interacted with before started laughing at me, the ugliest one there said "what's he doing here?!" she laughed for ages and I was like "uh, hello?" she said something else I can't remember but it was snide.

Not really all that bothered outside of the fact that these chicks were a bunch of dorks, skanks and try hard entry level hipster types. Its no good being laughed at by a bunch of walking fashion faux-pas! They were a bunch of jane's from backwater shit holes about to go do their first line of K at some wack East London warehouse party.

Outside of that the night was really fun, I saw Joe from Hot Chip on the dance floor and proceeded to tell him exactly how much I love Hot Chip (I seriously fucking love hot chip) he seemed genuinely touched and he gave me a hug.

Nicest hug I ever got it was so warm and soft.

How many of those skanks ever got hugged by Joe from Hot Chip? None that's how many.

It was a clean cock tease

I kinda always wanted to make films about awkward romances that go nowhere, or the bitter sweet nuances of the lives of strangers, or about young outsiders adjusting to a world that was never made with them in mind.

Fuck that shit.

If I don't write a screen play with the line "it was a clean cock-tease" or that doesn't star Bill Murray as a jittery care taker, and a young Patrick Dempsey as an awkward virgin who, with the help of the ghost of a dead porn star loses his virginity whilst working a summer job at a run down marina, I'll have basically failed at life.