24 Hour Mourning - A Collection Of Short Stories

By Joe Wright Foreword- Suicide Is Expectation Overload

Im so lazy, the world cannot do enough for me! I am aware of all that goes on, good and bad, wrong and right. Yet I simply continue to live, drift through the wind in a tremor. Oh the pretentious fuck is speaking in an expressionist style, his words will surely never matter, for he is far too deliberately cynical, and dramatic for anything to ever convey larger meaning. How can my views be correct, when others have opposing views, while others simply dont mind to care? All someone with a message can ever do is trust their views. It is simply insane to me that however much I wish to seek truth I can never be completely right, I could never please everyone. Of course this is fantastic, because if I was an evil fool with an evil agenda, it would be awful to think of the pain that my words could ever cause in the brains of literalists. Of course everyone who wishes to transcribe their thoughts are asking for change and change always brings an element of pain. If I were to now denounce capitalism for example, this would of course lead to widespread opinion deviation, as the human race is simply the most diverse race! There is not even an ounce of cooperation in humanity. Everything is determined by orgasm of some kind, even if its individual self gratification. This argument can be taken anywhere if enough thought is given. Its like discussing freedom how free am I? What sort of a fucking question is that? People get a check board out, and they start hitting this question from all kinds of angles. Can I vote freely? What can I wear? What is my place in society? The question you should ask is whats stopping me?

Whats stopping my big mass of living? Thats the question you should ask. Of course the oppression that may exist around you can appear to resemble boundaries, synthetic senile suspicion. This oppression is whats stopping the world! Dont you see? The disease is a superficial boundary. AND THEN THE NUCLEUR BOMBS KILLED THE PEACE FREAKS, WHILE THE CRAZIES BROKE FREE. Dont just smile and nod your head when you agree with something. Ive seen the faithfully desperate human so you could never fool me.

Freedom Bird In A Cage

I am the subliminal danger. The mind of invariable thought. Soulful and sincere, awaiting endearment of some kind. Perhaps forever intoxicated in the confines of my mind. The windows of the skull (My eyes) are constantly alive, absorbing the world I am yet to confirm as a reality of sorts. Caught in the gas light lament of everlong, my thoughts never stop, so how could they have ever begun? At this stage I am not sure youre ready to turn your faith in to a story of stronger, frivolous significance. As a rambler, and with knowledge of rambles I am aware of your frustrations at the lack of orgasm this text has provided you so far.

A Leap Of Faith
I am weird and wired. Plugged in beyond belief! Sunk in eternal contradiction of the most extraordinary psyche. Fluorescent lights gleam like god, and the words of mouths seem sentimental beyond reason. I am loved and coxed arbitrarily by other pain junkies in touching distance.

There is no pain among us however, our plasticine longs to roll around and become a great emulsifying, melding pool of juvenility can surely not be wrong? Moving to the repetitive fuck off boom music, everyone dances in the most liberated way. A celebration of freedom if you will. Limbs oscillate in their sockets, bones rattle. Freshly harvested corn kernels stacked in a grand, pretentious pile in one corner of the barn slowly recede, and spill over the floor. Its foundations judder to the beat of despicable, hypnotic bass. Welcome to hell! calls an old guy two miles away, laughing hysterically, smoking a cigarette and drinking a nice cold beer. Whats that youre drinking Bill? says the old guys like minded friend. Anaesthetic for my miserable life replies Bill At least were getting somewhere Bill! These young throw aways belong in cages! No place in this world Bill. You get me?

Crazed by my own racing thoughts I leave the barn, falling over the corn kernel carpet that now
covers the whole floor. Other torsos of all kinds lay around digging life, conversation, dying fast, seeking false purpose to busy their evenings of carelessness. Outside the barn, car headlights glow, and the gentle humming of car engines form their own melody among the busy voices. What you saying man? calls a voice from a passenger window. Noooooot-aaaaaaa-lot I slur, before realizing or caring whose inside.

Its a guy named Stewy. Stewy always wears hooded tracksuit tops, jeans, a flat cap, and has frizzy hair. He greets me with a hand shake, which takes the form of a fist touch, a standard handshake, and then an interlocking of grasps. Hes a really friendly guy who steals all the time, in a moral sort of way, always figuring that the amount of shit he steals will even itself out for all the hardship in his life. Our conversation is unmemorable and pointless in the grand scheme of things as there are so many people to dig, so much life to absorb. I recall we both speak fast, shooting shit mainly about something superficial. Lines of various intoxicating powders are passed around the car I now find myself in. Stewy is sat in the back with me, lounged out with a hoody for a blanket, snuggled in to the chair, his flat cap propped downwards to cover his eyes. In the front, some boy Ive never met, and a pretty girl hes trying to get with fill the front two seats. The grotesque anti everything, ritualistic suicide of narcotic ingestion makes us all giggle in a melancholic irony of failure and laxity. Whats going to get us there fastest? When will the revelry swallow me whole? What could people ever want with the routine world of comfort, homeliness and sustainment? In my head I was having the best time Polar equals, dead opposites Lost in a night inside Her face flickers, then disappears, then melds with others Walking talking zombie odes in the lazy depression of slacker youth culture I was honest until I died, and they still didnt believe me Dont forget, oh yeah The daze of malaise days The dense thick wind that covers Sound breaks and surrounds the town where I am stuck The thick dismal sunshine of sublime and alive Yet not living an existence to live Were not the party people Were the chill out lame people Drawn to CD Case highs

I can sleep and lay wherever on the earth Thick fucked candle light Failing miserably in the dissatisfaction Another world lived

I awake on the grass, Id been dreaming and living aesthetically for hours. Time had passed, and I had lived the entire time, but routine of common thought had ceased for as long as Id been down. Where have you been man? asks Lawrence, Ive been around in all kinds of places! I say, slurring my words, lazily pronouncing each syllable in a bedraggled way. Come exploring with me man. This place is fucking sick! See that hill up there? Lawrence says, pointing to a long landscape hill that runs right the way along the horizon of vision. Well go hit it up. I was up there earlier, you can see the sea in the background man, its fucking beautiful. I take his hand as he helps me up. We walk wonkily along a dirt road. Cars parked along the adjoining bank for as far as the eye can see. Lawrence and I walk up to random cars, seeking conversation with likewise strangers. We ask, and answer questions like where are you from? Do you come to parties often? How old are you? Do you want a line of ketamine? Every soul adorns the other. Rather fearfully we both climb the hill, propping each other up with the other persons slip, clinging on to the grassy banks, falling a little on the slippery wet ground. At the top our minds blow in half! Mysticism of the highest order rocks our beings. The rising sun beams off the moors, and dry steam from the puddles and small estuaries ascend in to the wondering sky. A word isnt said for ages as we admire nature, the same bad, painful nature juxtapose.

Lawrence pulls a joint out of his pocket which he lights and smokes. The vapour merges with the steam. We pass the joint until a small butt remains, which I flick in to the air. I reckon we need to go rack up again man. Lawrence announces after a while My mind is still scrambled, and I can hardly think to speak, so I half heartedly nod. I have lost all concept of time and place, which is simply wonderful! Nothing to care for except my cleansed thoughts of not caring much. Bryony grabs my arm as me and Lawrence reach the bottom of the hill. Shes pretty with long black hair, tinged red. The dawning sun makes her hair look like fibre optic strands, and her mischievous smile gleams and manifests in my mind until I manage to force a smile of some kind. Hello Stan, youre not looking so great Bryony beams. Interestingly I feel better than I did, than I felt before. Although Im not really sure when that was, what time is it? I reply in a cringey fashion. Its late enough to be alive I guess! Bryony verifies. In that case lets go live some more! I smile. Ive spent the entire night stalking this weird place in some induced malaise, crying and laughing and discharging arbitrary visions and thoughts from my mind. Life, death, and every other deformed thought passed through, and I felt like the strangest motherfucker alive! Although it must also be realized that I am alive, forever alive.

Friends In Endings
Weve come on an individual journey, yet tonight we are together Weve come on an individual journey, yet we feel part of something somehow Weve come on an individual journey, and we will depart and persist our solitude travels Weve come on an individual journey, and you look so different to my memory Weve come on an individual journey, and encountered the same souls differently Weve come on an individual journey, and we are individuals

I want to get real angry. I want to get real angry and do nothing Whispered everyones daydreams. Dan awoke from another frustrating sleep. Dead and buried with the rest, as he pressed his alarm clock. Brushing his teeth vigorously in a ritualistically harmful scrub way, trapped in the toxicity of routine, afraid and unsure of any kind of cure. Answers are so often misinterpreted as cures. Answers are what people look for in idle faith, but cures are never really found, or truly realized until the soul is exposed to scorns and fears. Slipping in to a freshly pressed suit and knotting his tie in a meticulous way, Dan leaves his house to get in to his average car, to commute to his wretched job. Much like others have written and narrated before. Dan works at Doldrums Park Administration Unit, an administration firm who undertakes administration duties on behalf of larger firms. Silent, secretly discordant, Dan takes his chair to begin another day. Segregated on all sides by office walls, Dan begins to amass piles of paper from the IN section of his office tray. He takes one look at

the company motto which is printed on the ceiling of each individual office section, strength in togetherness. By lunch time, having read monotonous pages of unimportant data for several hours, Dan leaves his office for the first time. Before he leaves he sets the alarm on his watch for 30minutes The duration of his lunch break. He figures that as long as theres no line at the sandwich counter he can buy a sandwich, smoke a cigarette, and get back to his desk to start work just before his supervisor yells at him for being five minutes late. Dan sure is correct, and his supervisor only yells at him a little, as he opted not to have a cigarette due to the larger than expected lunch queue. Dan remembers a time that was rather different, a time of uneasy camaraderie. Where his life was spontaneous, and meaningful in an understated way. Of course the clichs are forever present when someone turns to a time of much joy. Things are almost always far simpler in such thoughts. Dan contemplated how his life was now far more stable, but how this stability had come at the cost of his freedom. An overcomplicated spider web had eaten him somehow. Sure he was free as anyone to set foot on any piece of ground in the world he wished, but with all the commitment of perceived livelihood there was simply nothing he thought he could possibly do. Completing the day without much memory of, and heading to his car for the long commute home, he sees the traffic forming in the hazy evening streets beyond him and joins the queues. Compressed frustration with the world, that he figures the people in each of the cars around him feel from time to time fuels his desires for change, but also prolongs the scorn in between, and the envy of responsibility that everyone feels. A bolt of sun, rather a thought of revolution enteres his mind. A road off to the left, an empty road where only a few cars ever go, a road of casual adventure. And a storyteller of pretentious truism who wishes to wake you from your sleep!

********************************************************************************** This is to all the people who know everything, but have seen nothing. The evil danger is upon us, the hazard levels have reached unforeseeable levels. The solitude of each being is realized, yet the need for constant need is the stumbling block of us all. Fingernails and hair grow without command or control. They are forced by overriding need. Our personalities work in the same way, absorbing all the things it needs.

I am Dan, I am now a deadbeat by definition. I have disarmed myself of thoughts that do

not matter, and I now plan to rearrange myself to absorb everything I truly need, rather than the short term orgasms I once devoured. Why does failure have to be sad? It spurs from a feeling of misspent time, and unexpected outcomes. I have never failed in my life! Only by outside definition have I failed. Sometimes my thoughts get so out of control that they often come full circle until all sides are realized, and the inevitable of outside control is determined. Then I realize that a whole hearted Full cooperation movement is the only cure for the species I care so much about. As of one week ago, I left my life and found a new one. Before I could justify fighting amongst others for something, which in reality is nothing. I now realize I must find myself. This is perhaps the sole task and purpose of my life. Upon leaving my previous life simply by deviating left, I now see things. Before I had a perceivable world, a world I thought it was my duty to sustain in a bungled sort of way. Faith in material, building lifeless walls to maintain my own lifeless walls. I like to call it death bartering! Solar skies and oil fighting guys. After leaving the main road, my journey became distorted. I robbed myself of any hard feelings by the constant indoctrination I had undergone in a previous world. The road was narrow.

The energy inside me whimpered as if I should feel accountability of some sort. I had not undergone my evening routine. My evening meal followed by hours of television, and then bed Reset. My dwelling was kind of neat, tonnes of stuff, all the stuff I could want, I worked so hard that I couldve died and left it all as my mark on this earth. How wonderful that wouldve been! A compilation of stuff, all of it made by others. Yet I could pass it off as my own somehow. My sole journey, my mark on this earth. Others will have similar, certain examples of exposure, although they will take particular, individual traits from these experiences. My previous life deprived me of fresh exposure. Now theres stimulation all around that I can now roll around in! Upon leaving the narrow road, I wound down the window to embrace the conversations I had found. How interesting I found all of the complicated darlings! Magnificent how their facial expressions change, and words and thoughts show negative correlation in the depression. Their conversations are all so meaningless. A race to the compulsory graveyard of pointless talk I call it! I floated in the clouds for a while to pass the time. You cant tell me that this time lark isnt moving faster than we know! Seeking out stimulating conversation, I stumbled upon the two prettiest girls. The sorts where the salts of this earth reside as far as I could tell. Conversation of a previous time have since passed, and dialogue is now a privatised equity thanks to the reliance of mobile phones. As a result, conversation is now dryer than sand dunes! The pair of them sat engrossed in their phones, stroking their hair, absorbing all that they could. Thankfully I have conformed to this style of conversation, and attempted to grab the prettier ones attention with fantastic typed odes I constructed on my phone, as the pair of them had no care to look up at my uninteresting face which was not illuminated in any way. Besides, they could turn to one of my online profiles to see a much more appealing pout from a recent time. The girls seemed lost in my conversation, so I left them after a short while. Each passing second allotted on my stopwatch, and I realized I could never get it back.

As long as youre alive, youre living. Called a voice from some place in my daydream. What point is it you wish to make I replied Your life has ended, and you have nothing to show. You have been a part of some truly beautiful times. I flicked through your life on my monitor, and your exposure is quite magnificent. Or at least to about the age of 25, where you could not see a way out. Your differing life from the norm was exciting, yet dangerous. You were scared, and opted for comfort, and investment in things that have not followed you to this place. What exactly is this place may I ask? questioned Dan This place is the afterlife! I cannot be sure of it in any way, but I can inform you that you passed away in a car crash on the way home from work. I understand you had a week long epiphany which followed your induction in to the afterlife, where you discussed observations of the future, and the gross misuse of technology, and the deformation of the human. How was your life Dan? How do you feel your cycle panned out? Well it was happy and sad all in one! I did not live naturally to myself for a long time before my death, but the constrains were simply too much to bear!

The Day I Realized I Was a Failure By Definition Im having a great time, look at my photos Overjoyed Prolonged by the evergreen The stampede of collective groans Silent calligraphy I grew in a world which was not my home Rapturous laughter and spectacular failure Its all self induced which is why its so funny We are lost, never to be found again I see a weird world behind the sky I dont feel ready to die

Hold My Hand And Waltz (The Everlasting Party Of Humanity)

Ill be your night time, she lied. In obscure twilight, another steam filled morning, another bedraggled soul takes to the streets. She is a pain capsule. Cruel as the world, yet as beautiful as the stars in a moon fixed gaze Never believe in a thing like me She calls to herself, in her mind. Tears trickling down her face, forming salty puddles on her cheeks. Yet she forever smiles like a Cheshire Cat. Worrying is just something to do after all, Passes the time. Millie slips in to a pair of long stockings and a nightdress. The time is 8:00pm, she stares at the smudged face that greets her in a large gothic mirror on the wall. Smiling like a maniac, making bird faces to herself. Her mind is crazy, and her reality is forever nullified by the world she tries to immerse herself in. She is either stronger than anyone in the world, or crumbling in a pool of decline. She often figures she is both at different times. Back in to the hall of madness, Close those sad eyes, run away from these problems, and see them on the other side. She conceives, and then sings in her mind. You cant make a genius insane she determines, as she prepares for things to get fucked up once again. Shes free as the wind Confined in preserving memories Frying brains in flying saucers Paradoxical logic Sleep walk dreams Passing out asleep Praying for the supernatural Were here now, then gone

Dropped down as far as I care

Wheres the fun at? Millie asks, smiling cheekily, the only way she knows how. The party never stops, the world never stops, I never stop. Just sitting here chipping away the boredom all day. Calls Sally gleefully. Millie and Sally are runaway babies. Running, never stopping. Lost for sure, then found within each other in a common interest of jovial self mutilation. Im stuck in orgasm escape mode I think Sally! Theres no good times around for people whore living, so I reckon we can kick back in these dark rooms until we die! Millie replies When youre our age, and the worlds as bleak as this, theres not really any other way to go when you think about it. The pair of them gape through the dreary building they find themselves in. Dark smears all over the windows, thick moss covering the walls which appear to breathe in the induce. I havent got a home, but Ive got a place to live chuckles Sally ONE DAY BABY WELL BE OLD, the lyrics of a song by Asaf Avidan play through an amp in the background in sad irony. This is their only known world. The world of the constant, forever drifting, lulls in nightmare dens of mutual helplessness. The conversations are spectacular and interchangeable with sporadic conspiracies of the smiley convention outside. As their precious hearts beat like machine guns, sadly not with love or anticipation of any kind, their dreams begin to fly in the sky. Past the dingy rooms, and in to a spiritual place that no one can understand.

Millie and Sally strip naked for the amusement of everyone in the room. Covering themselves in pain(t), rolling all over the lifeless walls of the building. Are you going to get some friends or just leave the world alone? Millie calls hysterically to one of two guys sat down cheering and applauding her. The guy stands up, and then the other guy in the room stands up. All four of them roll around in the paint like children. Minds which never grew up. Sensible minds that can never envisage an end to the orgasm. Minds of absorbing endeavour who will witness the end of the world without tangled thoughts of sustain.

Celebration Station Laugh and cry, and die in colourful cartoon Live like you were never born, and break all you thought overall You wake in the daylight custom to see more of this dirty world, with closed eyes I found myself within myself We cant get enough of each other Her smile does run, and we are gone

Gone, into oblivion! Millie and Sally are in the back seats smoking cigarettes, while me and some guy are smoking joints in the front. Weve nowhere to go. The time is some time after midnight, and I can barely see the road through my thick glazed eyes. I focus by fixating on the grains of the road as I pull away in my beaten up car, the clutch is sticky as the car bursts in to life. Time has disappeared, and I question whether its ever existed. Theres a strange familiarity within everyone in the vehicle, as if destiny always dictated we would all be sat in this car at this particular time, and each soul had practised conversation in front of a mirror for several weeks before we were to meet. Driving around, shooting shit in another dawning night, trajectory unknown.

Out and about, sitting down Millie smiles, lolling her head uncontrollably, and allowing her eyes to roll back into her head freely. Kill some brain cells, and plant some seeds Sally replies, then smiles back, chewing aggressively like an animal of some kind. People try to come up with cures and causes, because they simply cannot understand the arbitrary, juxtaposing nature of life I declare, to rapturous enthusiasm as a philosophical game of who can identify the meaning of life the fastest begins. Go too far up the coast and end up in the ocean The guy next to me calls confidently, before all four of us forget we were ever speaking. Where are we heading anyway Millie asks me after a short silent while We have a full tank of fuel, where do you want to go? Ive just been turning wherever Millie pours some Cocaine on to a CD case, then proceeds to crush and chop it by placing a 10 note over the mound, then running over the top of it with a credit card in the most capitalistic way! The crackle sounds of the particles roll around underneath sound like a muffled cement mixer. Millie then rolls the 10 into a funnel which is used as a sniffer. Millie takes several whiffs at the line she has set out, as the powder falls like rain from her blocked nose. She sniffs aggressively, and fails, before switching to the other nostril with success. Dawn slowly calls, and daylight sickness falls back onto everyones minds. Daylight reminds me of all the people that are only alive during the day. How they will never live in the dark for as long as they are alive. The customary ascending craziness they fail to see. Its natural to get down. Often it is just complacent, contradicting thoughts troubling the mind. I paint a picture within, of a generation that doesnt have much to live for. The half life energy is always present, no matter how much time passes in compatible souls.

The road breaks in to forks, and the further away we are from some place before, the stronger our desires to travel even further away become. There is no escape however, no escape from the world tomb, wanderlust and paper trails always lead back to an empty void, or the same place. A place with windows as bright as you, and narrow as the world. I went in for a while, then out, crying as loving minds died.