Owing to my illness-related physical degeneration (worse than I thought -- judging by the candles, people think I'm 53 rather than 35), I was kind of restrained last night. A pleasant, low-key entrance to my
Odd dream from the other night: I was in Panama, and struck up a conversation with novelist/Boing Boing guy Cory Doctorow (I've never read anything by him, but I've been meaning to pick up "Someone Comes to Town, Someone Leaves Town"). He said he was living on top of a mountain (just checked, and Panama does indeed have mountains), and his job was to receive transmissions (from Asia) of cricket scores, translate the scores, and then beam them back to Asia. He had to do this at night, but that was ok (he said), because he was only allowed to see his family during the day.