My Desolation

Desolation [noun] {de-su’ley-shun}

  1. The state of being decayed or destoyed
  2. A bleak and desolate atmosphere
  3. Sadness resulting from being forsaken or abandoned
  4. An event that results in total destruction

Synonyms

  • Bareness
  • Bleakness
  • Devastation
  • Forlorness
  • Loneliness
  • Nakedness

In the 20 odd years I have been eking a living in the city, this is probably the time and place that will require my most inert survival skills to come out and then dig deeper for more.  Compared to the semi permanent habitations this body has occupied over the years, specially during college when my preconceptions of urban living has been shattered, a veritable culture shock, thankfully came early in life, today is something like Mark Watney went through on Mars, but with less resources and even fewer funding.

So I did what he did – science the shit out of this gig – to paraphrase his point.

Oh yes, to digress a bit. I was watching The Martian last night and it came to me that being left on a planet without someone to turn to but yourself bears the analogs of where I am today. Though I could have wished for a HAB and some prepacked food, among other provisions, my family and a few real good friends serves as my HAB. Don’t believe the hype, city living is not glamorous. Nor is it even fulfilling. I may fallen in love with Metro Manila, but the relationship has gone sour and all the effort today is to make it through the next payday, earn enough and get back to the country side. This transient life may have been my own for quite sometime, but all I want to do now is go home.

Kinda like Watney? You bet.

Now, while I am still on the lookout for freelance jobs and other projects, I have found myself in this charming place, but with a few roadblocks. The room is affordable enough (read that dirt-cheap) and I am eternally gratefull for my new landlord. But the room is actually a storeroom for unused cloth and garment from her dressmaking shop. Ample ventilation is from three windows, one glass louvered window faces the East, which is what I prefer, overlooking an empty lot with some trees and lots of fighting cocks, a tin roof with rotting wood and cat poop, and some empty plastic gallons, stringed together by my neighbour , who’s obviously looking to sell. The other window faces directly to that neighbour’s concrete wall, and the last one, well is my own personal picture window, bare and open, that serves as my clothes drier when I have laundry to do. Also, as my default spot to throw out used water, early morning garglings and the rare spittle. Continue reading