New Leaf Literature

Working with someone at a home that belongs to my grandma. A cousin or something, whose work ethic is appalling. We are painting concrete bricks yellow as a sort of parking space destination. The paint is difficult to use; it comes out of the aerosol can like water. Also the color is not correct. More white than yellow.

Then we are inside, laying down linoleum. It's old linoleum that has been torn up once already. I explain we shouldn't use it, because it will take up so much glue. The cousin is indifferent.

In an underground Indiana Jones style cavern. I'm going through someone else's motions, my brother's, really. He has descended a complex rigging of ladders into a crevasse where he killed three snakes. Two of one kind, and a third of a more poisonous kind. Then he discovered some other danger.

I'm living in a house with four roommates. One is Matt. He and another are meth addicts. The other has been missing for some time. Some other people show up at our door to report our other roommate is squatting in a nearby home. He's started a campfire indoors, they report, and is in danger of burning the place down. We tell them that he's been doing meth for some time, and has become unpredictable.

Inside my boat wondering whether or not to use the jib due to strong winds. Looking in the V-Berth. I'm on a voyage and it's some sort of secret. I'm speaking Spanish. It begins to rain and an older, Hispanic woman holds a mirror out of the cockpit.

I fear it will give away our position and yell: Quiere todo el mundo verle?