AT THE STOA

"Pabuhat po." That's what gamers usually new to the game tell other gamers who've been at it for longer. "Pabuhat po," "carry me," meaning, "Help me reach a decent enough level where I can at least make it on my own." Usually said as a joke, or sometimes even meant, and sometimes taken up by those kind or bored or both enough to actually do it. In RAN, the MMORPG I played for quite a while, it translated to "boosting," where you and your fellow-newbies hang around high-level players and form a party, and the XP they get killing mobs get cumulatively but proportionately distributed to everyone.  In life, though, it translated to having substance use disorders, and, weirdly, dependence on depression. Can't get out of bed? No purpose in so doing? Ah, you're depressed, let that be the reason and the remainder of your day. No need for pabuhat — you can lay there and rot and still be justified enough to live. I know this is un

Having spent most of the day in bed with a book about owls and diabetes by Sedaris, I got up to smoke. I looked at my phone and somehow ended up watching a kid no more than four years old applying makeup to her face and immediately wanted to go back to reading. The day started, depressingly enough, with a hangover. We had company and a fire last night, and it was good. But, as always, drinking too much the night before steals tomorrow's happiness, so there I have it. While having coffee, I was making a list of things I dreaded doing, like taking out the garbage and seeing previous garbage bags torn up by the neighborhood stray. I did take out the garbage after washing dishes, figuring that it was a small achievement to actively chase some depression away, and left the strewn garbage where it is. I'll deal with it tomorrow, when the goddamned rains hopefully stop. I took a shower, hoping it'll make me feel a bit better, and, that having failed, put on a giraffe onesie.