There's little to be said for or about yesterday. I waited on expected communications which never came and have still not arrived this morning. I finished with the prolegomena for #6. Finally, about 5 p.m., too annoyed and frustrated to sit here any longer, I grabbed my binoculars and Peterson Field Guide to Eastern Birds (4 ed.) and Spooky and I headed for Piedmont Park and Lake Clara Meer. I figured I could salvage something of the day. But. No. This is Atlanta. And so we could not find a parking space, so we could only drive hopelessly about, cursing Atlanta's dearth of decent mass transit. Atlanta is the sort of city that looks at a problem like this, that one must use cars to reach one of our largest greenspaces, and decides not that here's another good argument for providing better mass transit, but, instead, that a portion of Piedmont Park should be sacrificed to a gigantic parking deck. I kid you not.
It occurs to me that I'm not really in the mood for journalizing this morning.
Maybe I should stop now and make another entry later in the day. The only other thing I had in mind to mention was that we watched James Cameron's Titanic last night. I'd not seen it but the once in a theatre, and Spooky had never seen it at all. I still think the whole present-day frame needs to go, and I still cannot abide Bill Paxton, but I think that I was better able to appreciate the movie this time. When it was released in 1997, I was still in the throws of my peculiar Victorian/Edwardian Reconstructionism thing and found Rose utterably insufferable. This time, I understood the character, cared for her, and was able to respond to the film as something more than a beautiful (if flawed) eulogy to Edwardianism. I suppose this means I'm making progress. One can always hope.