Prompt [Breaking Down]

"SHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit! OhGodOhGodOhGod!"
"Damnit Jerry, if you don't shut the fuck up I'm going to put you in the trunk with our friend!", I screamed at him. I should know better, Jerry's not all that stable since that job in Sacramento.
"Shit! I'm sorry Davey, but that scared the shit outta me. You know how I am about being shot at.", Jerry whimpered back at me.
"But we're not being shot at dip-shit, the tire just blew out."
"I know that, but it sounded just like a shot, didn't it?"
I wrestled the Buick off to the side of the road, realizing what we had to do, to get to the spare. A dust cloud billowed up from the tires as gravel was spat out from the tires. Skidding slightly to a stop, I leaned back against the headrest and thought about how we were going to get this body out to the desert before is became more pungent than Jerry. Banging my head against the rest to sort things out. How the hell do I keep getting back in this mess? I was supposed to get out. I paid Mr. Green the debt I owed, twice over. But 'the life' just pulls you back under, like an east coast undertow.
"Awlright Jerry, lets get this done and get back on the road before some Goodie Two decided to help up and we're putting two in a hole instead of just the one."
The old doors creak as we get out and circle back to the trunk. Before I open the makeshift coffin, I glance around. Dry and barren, this way and that, though apparently we are 300 feet or so from the "Friendly town of Kasperville." Fucking great. The trunk opens like gigantic baby bird waiting for another juicy worm. Christ I hope this stiff is still stiff and not juicy.
"Jerry, grab the head."
"Oh shit! I'm gonna yak!"
We heave and yank on the roll of carpet wrapped around another schmuck that zigged when he should have zagged. Fortunately, he's still stiff. As the bundle of misfortune flops to the gravel, Jerry tosses up his cheeseburger, fries and strawberry shake all over his end. I should plug him right here and now, just to put us both out of this misery.
"DAMNITALLTOFUCKINGHELL!" I scream. There's no spare. What the hell is this? What do we do now. "Shitshitshitshit!"
"What Davey, what's wrong?"
"There's no fucking spare in this trash heap. Who's car is this anyway?"
"Dunno. I lifted it about an hour before you knocked off Mr. Krinsky."
"Wait, you know this.. this is a hot car? We're driving around in a hot car with stiff in the trunk, with out of state plates? Are you trying to get put away?"
"Well no. Mr. Green said to get my car, and this is it. This week."
"Jerry, so help me God I'm going to shoot you myself before this is all over, now grab Mr. Krinsky's puke covered head and get him back in the trunk."
After a heavy lift, we got the package back in the trunk, and headed off to see how friendly Kasperville really was.
It's only days into the new year, and lo and behold I've broken all of my new years resolutions and I'm going to commit my fourth felony.
I'm not off to a good start.

(This is a writing exercise from Writer's Digest Nov/Dec. Pg. 10)
Maarburg
Current meatspace coordinates:
-122.27/47.19

What's your point of sail?

They say "Life is like... " a lot. I find this funny, though I have been know to spin a philosophical tale as well. How can life be like something else when everything all combined is life. Or maybe I just don' t know what life is like. Or what life is. Or something. Whatever.

It does seem to me, of late, that a lot of people I know are not happy with life no matter what we say it is like. Whether this is just me opening my eyes to the world around me or just how things are now, I'm not sure. Of that, I'm certain. That I'm not sure. I think.

Life is like...
being out to sea.

Being out to sea can be calm peaceful at moments, rough and unpredictable at others. Beautiful and dangerous. Alluring and frightening. (It sounds like I'm talking about a woman, and perhaps that is why the ocean steals many a mans heart.) There are assumptions that we can make, patterns that we can recognize, yet there is no certainty. We can look at our charts and weather forecasts, we can watch the wave tips and telltales, we can feel the subtle shift of the breeze on our face, or we can hear how the wind rushes over the sails. The ocean will not an can not be tamed. It's all we can do but to make the best of what we know and what we have. At the same time, it's important to know that we have the ability to change course. To change our sails. When the sea is still and there's barely a breeze, we drop the jib and hoist the spinnaker; when the ocean is volatile, we reef the main, secure our harness to the life line and plot the best course we can. We don't control the wind or the sea, but we can adjust our sails and course. Control what you can, and understand what you can't control. What is your course, how are your sails set?
What is your destination?
When do you want to get there?
How will you know when you have arrived?
When you get there, what fantastic things will you find there?
What resources, (crew, boat, charts, experience...) can you call on to get you there? How can you put those to their and your best use?

What can you do RIGHT NOW to begin the journey?


Maarburg (dreaming of the sea)
Current meatspace coordinates:
Lost at sea... for now.