Me: Oh shit [realization]. That walkway my construction guy’s built fits nicely under my front door. Oh shit. With the way it leans just right, all of the water from my neighbor’s corridor is going to come streaming into my upper floor. I rush over to Vila Matos to talk to the guy.
Guy: Uh. Uh. Mumble. What?
Me: Dude. Impending disaster. You have to come fix this now! This is a problem.
Guy: Mumble. Mumble.
Guy: I’ll come tomorrow.
Me: What if it rains tonight? This will kill my house.
Guy: Mumble. It won’t rain. Tomorrow.
Me: Grrr. Fine.
I return home. I’m tired from my day in Vila Brandão. This neighborhood is just different from Vila Matos. People are always asking me to give them shit—a dollar, a t.v., old speakers in the house, a refrigerator motor, a job. I feel like an outsider here, and people are constantly giving me the snake eyes. Yesterday, a piece of equipment was stolen off of my bike. I haven’t slept well in 3 days. Last night, some prankster threw stones at the metal grating outside my window, and then banged on the glass pane in my bathroom. I am being provoked and I know it.
Me: [asleep, day 3, 1:00 in the morning. The sound of running water suddenly rushes to my ears].
Me: Oh shit.
I grab a broom and rush upstairs. Water is coming through the door and is falling through multiple holes in the roof, despite the fact that I just “fixed” it two days ago. My laptop is sitting in a pool of water. I realize that I need a whole new roof to live here. That means wood, roofing tiles, a new labor contract, and I don’t have that kind of money.
Me: Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
An hour passes, and I eventually drag myself to bed. I can’t relax, my brain won’t shut up. I can’t help from thinking that I’ve backed myself into a corner.
Brain: You haven’t gotten a sub call in a month, blah, blah, you have no money, blah, blah, you’re a marginal living on the edges of society, blah, blah. I down some allergy medicine and try fitfully to relax.
Me: What now
..……….
...............
………...
………...
zzzzzzzzz.
Guy: Uh. Uh. Mumble. What?
Me: Dude. Impending disaster. You have to come fix this now! This is a problem.
Guy: Mumble. Mumble.
Guy: I’ll come tomorrow.
Me: What if it rains tonight? This will kill my house.
Guy: Mumble. It won’t rain. Tomorrow.
Me: Grrr. Fine.
I return home. I’m tired from my day in Vila Brandão. This neighborhood is just different from Vila Matos. People are always asking me to give them shit—a dollar, a t.v., old speakers in the house, a refrigerator motor, a job. I feel like an outsider here, and people are constantly giving me the snake eyes. Yesterday, a piece of equipment was stolen off of my bike. I haven’t slept well in 3 days. Last night, some prankster threw stones at the metal grating outside my window, and then banged on the glass pane in my bathroom. I am being provoked and I know it.
Me: [asleep, day 3, 1:00 in the morning. The sound of running water suddenly rushes to my ears].
Me: Oh shit.
I grab a broom and rush upstairs. Water is coming through the door and is falling through multiple holes in the roof, despite the fact that I just “fixed” it two days ago. My laptop is sitting in a pool of water. I realize that I need a whole new roof to live here. That means wood, roofing tiles, a new labor contract, and I don’t have that kind of money.
Me: Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
An hour passes, and I eventually drag myself to bed. I can’t relax, my brain won’t shut up. I can’t help from thinking that I’ve backed myself into a corner.
Brain: You haven’t gotten a sub call in a month, blah, blah, you have no money, blah, blah, you’re a marginal living on the edges of society, blah, blah. I down some allergy medicine and try fitfully to relax.
Me: What now
..……….
...............
………...
………...
zzzzzzzzz.
I slowly fall to sleep.
How we fix things in the ghetto.
Thanks be to mother nature for creating gravity.
Tired and wet.
3 comments:
Leo,
You are one brave s.o.b.!
I wish I had something helpful and smart to tell you, but nothing comes to me now! Just be careful, be careful, be careful...
Can't you just put a plastic tarp over your roof for now, at least until you can get it fix...
Since the 2004 hurricane season when you fly over Miami you can still see thousands of homes with blue plastic tarps protecting their homes from rain, it is mostly folks who didn't have money for the "insurance" deductibles or to repair their roofs.
Just FYI, Ambien in Brazil is known as "stilnox", I don't know if you will need a prescription in Salvador's pharmacies...
Good luck with your situation for now! Hope things get better!
Would a pitbull help you guard your house?
Couldn't you adopt one?
The only problem would be when you travel...
Cheers
Ray
hey leo have read:
gaston bachelard: “the poetics of space”
Thanks Ray. That's actually not a bad idea. I'll have to shop around and see if you can buy tarps here.
.....
the poetics of space, I think I've heard of it. Is it a good read?
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