Shot through with anger and desire, a mouth to feed a room for hire

Today i didn't go to work. I couldn't rise.

Last year some friends and i were building a way out. It was no way out, it was just an aesthetic anaesthetic. A beautiful dream.

Well, i had a beautiful dream last night, and i still awoke in the same bed.

My crew dissipated, no captain to join, and no first mate to assist, my future seems to consist of a liferaft. I used to dream of a houseboat, but things are dry here, except for the unpredictable ocean. Small measures and gentle movements disappear into the sand. Go big or go home, if you have one.

Every successful project starts with a checklist, and i've started mine.

Next town over from Drymouth, there's a good port, the biggest in the land. I have friends there who would be glad to help and to have me near. It should entice me, but i feel next to nothing for the place, and i don't know why; then again, i felt nothing for Drymouth when i left the place i came from.

The place i came from still has a pull, but the port region is degraded. Every port is run by corrupt men, but these thrive on decay and death. As a border dweller by nature, i am drawn to ports and other crossover points, but i'm not sure i can go backward in time to that place.

The shining new port of this era is in the town where i was born. It's the longest trip (excluding if i were to cross the ocean). There, the troubles are different. Expensive tastes. Fighting for lead dog status. A beautiful, complicated place that i feel like i should know, but don't.

A small port off the coast from there... pretty on the outside, ugly on the inside, but still a place to land, with support and a potential way forward.

With a strict plan, i could go south, across the border, to the Grand Port. Or i could cross the ocean for the magic of the Old Ports. But those are utterly unknown quantities (and qualities, really), and the experiment would be resource-heavy and filled with bureaucracy -- the world is filled with guards like never before, and it's not always clear if they're better or worse than (or even different from) the pirates.

But today i have no plan. I have the echoes of strange and comforting dreams, four walls to hold in the warmth, and an umbrella in case i want to climb the stairs and go outside.