I hurt, I hurt bad. i have coughed so much today, so hard, that my side and back are actually aching. i read this book about a climb gone bad in Everest, called "Into Thin Air", that had this part about the author coughing so hard he cracked ribs. thankfully i'm not near cracking ribs, but i'm exhausted. i can't seem to do anything but lay aruond and cough. i've gagged myself a few times and nearly puked because of it. there is not a product on the market, not a cough suppressant in any Walgreens, that could keep me from hacking. ahhhh, damn. every time i'm hurting.

enough of self pity. I watched "The Beach" on HBO tonight. hmmm. the people who made that film did a nice job of targeting 20-somethings and younger. i can't imagine that anyone older than 25 went to see that. it wasn't very good. it stuck me as an imitation of "Heart of Darkness" only with backpackers. 'see the dark side of campers,' 'when campers go bad,' and so on. it would have been much better if they had spent more time exploring the darkness that is discovered within leo's character. even the voice over narration reminded me of conrad's masterpiece. i did like the part at the beginning, when he narrates something like, "and as for traveling alone, fuck it. if that's the way it was, then so be it." it reminded me of dan and all that time he has spent traversing around state parks alone. i always see him driving on some country rode in nebraska or sitting alone on a beach in seskatchuan (?) poking at a fire with a stick.

i need to write something more creative. this is my journal, but i'm working on another blog as a place where i can write some stories. i need open up my imagination again and find out what's been going on up there. i feel stunted. one should never get too far away from their imagination. ahhh, i remember now. when i was in epcot for new year's i remember standing in line for something and we were next to a woman with the baby in a stroller. it wasn't a particularly cute baby, as far as babies go. i mean, some people say all babies are cute but they either are lying or haven't seen enough ugly babies, because they are out there. so i kept staring at this child because it was just lying there, completely awake, but making no noise. it squirmed its little feet and hands, and tried to grab at things that weren't there or were WAY out of its reach. i watched as this tiny little thing, which couldn't even communicate beyond "hungry," "dirty," and "want," get fascinated at its own hands. it was in its own world there in the stroller, where it couldn't be bothered by the rest of the universe. the baby caught a glimpse of its right hand, and became transfixed on this wondrous attatchment to its own body. and i got jealous. i got envious of the baby's station in life, of its ability to focus so directly on something so remote and simple and seemingly insignificant. i remember smiling and wanting to be more like that baby, to notice more of life's simple things. i used to be good at that. when i lived on chauncy i would walk home every night after work and look up at the stars and dream a little. i'd always be amazed that we'd been to the moon, that people had set foot on it. when i would see the moon and the stars I remember to dream about the mysteries, about the impossible, about all the incredible things hidden in the shadows of the unknown. that's the something i lost while teaching, that's the something i'm trying to discover again.

i'm getting there, one freaking cough at a time.