Thursday 18 February 1999

Winter sky

Pic of the day: Winter sky over Norway.

I worry that I am becoming Gabified. Embarassing dreams, political and religious rants, rampant cynicism. does it all, and does it better.
Plus, she gets the good e-mail. "I saw a nipple while you was sleeping." Sorry, it is late at night here, but I find this approach to friends-making devastatingly hilarious. Someone sponsor me with a free phone line, or at least let an allied country breach our telecoms oligopoly, and I'll be happy to show you all of my nipples while I is sleeping.

I usually don't miss having a TV. Let's say, not every year. But this year the Norwegian band Infinity is going to play at tomorrows Spelemannspris, a Norwegian music festival. Vaguely akin to the Oscar for films, only with music and a national scope. Infinity released their CD in January this year, so they're not in the competition, but they are to perform. If Egil is OK again (he was sick today) this should be spectacular for the Norwegian public. Their CD sold 25000 in the first two and a half week, which is pretty good for a country with four and a half million citizens, and the group's first album. They are expected to start selling the album in Finland and Japan (!) next. They're young, they're cute, and their music is far better than what I grew up with, Beatles and that stuff.

Read in Scientific American about the new influenza medicines. In passing, the scientists mentioned the outbreak of chicken influenza in Hong Kong, where the government brutally killed off the town's entire population of poultry - and presumably hindered 30% of the earth's population from dying within the next six months. Y'know people, things like this puts the Y2K scare in some perspective.

Not to mention the problems I've had at the job lately. I've started to keep a running log of what I do, since it seems hard for the old pre-Flynns to imagine that I have anything to do at all. I have more than enough to do, I just prioritize the fun things with ruthless dedication. Anyway, chances are that in a hundred years it will all be forgotten. I should write poetry, it seems to be practically the only thing that outlasts stone.

Girl of Steel in Rosa's Wardrobe?

My other diary pages:
Wednesday 17. February
Tuesday 16. February
Monday 15. February
Sunday 14. February
Saturday 13. February
Friday 12. February
Thursday 11. February
Wednesday 10. February
Tuesday 9. February
Monday 8. February
Sunday 7. February
Saturday 6. February
Friday 5. February
Thursday 4. February
Wednesday 3. February
Tuesday 2. February
Monday 1. February

Visit the Diary Farm for the diaries I've put out to pasture until they buy the farm:
January 1999
December 1998
November 1998

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