2009: still no robot servants, flying cars, or trips to the Moon. it's a brave new world, i tell ya.

this is a strange country, diaryland.
full of history, and devoid of history.
this is my first entry of 2009, where i talk about things and not talk about things. there are a lot of entries like that. lots of dualism, fact and fiction, and some words that straddle the fine line between. is it really a line, so much as a grey (gray?) area? one blends softly into the other in my mind sometimes, and it's not like my swiss-cheese memory can really be trusted.
Janus is not so strange, looking forward and backward at the same time, we do it all the time. it's just that the Romans, those culture-thieving hedonists i so adore and despise, were more honest about the looking. and the seeing. if one looks forward without an eye to what has come, it is difficult to gauge the long road walked, full of turns and rocks and muddy pits. oh, the muddy pits, how they mire and sooth, slip and irritate, all at the same time.
i don't make any sense, i'm sure. i'm not sure i ever did. and, and, that's OK.
listen: my stomach is killing me, literally. it's him or me, and i know how to wield knives, whereas he's got a lock on the pain-receptors.
how does one deal with pain all the time? it's worse than i admit, and almost never truly goes away. what was that they gave me in the ER? Morphine? Dilaudid?
GIMME.
i would tell my stomach "i know where you sleep, so shape up, or else", except it never really sleeps, or lets me sleep. this is getting old.
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another thing getting old is me.
almost 31, with little to nothing to show for it.
oh boo-hoo, nathan.
some wise man said, "get busy livin', or get busy dyin'"
hmmm, which is which?
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maybe there will be a nice thunderstorm tomorrow.