The past few days I have been working my way through re-readings of classic human ethnographies, wherein one human culture studies another for a finite period of time, then draws some conclusion. I reflect, not for the first time, that our work here on Earth has severe limitations, in that unlike human anthropologists, we field researchers are not allowed to reveal our true missions to the people around us. We are simply assigned a region and told to observe and make notes. And yet what we are taking notes on is so enormous and complex, so interconnected and and important, yet impossible to see, that it often seems pointless. Why try and answer the question of "why?" when we already know the "what"?

And what part could these people around me, ordinary, small people with small lives, dented cars, low-level jobs and seasonal allergies possibly play in the big event?

In the human ethnographies I have read, researchers enter the field with some notion of what they wish to study, some trifling, tiny aspect of the host culture on which they hope to become expert: the way the locals forge their pottery; how they make their marriages; the origins and meanings of their folklore.

How much easier my work would be had I the ability to record with a purpose, to conduct interviews, to make measurements and predictions. Instead, I snoop about like a common spy.

Today I went back to Rebecca's to collect her mail. The locked white trunk in the back of her coat closet tempted me, but I didn't stay to examine it. In fact, I didn't even go inside. A man of Asian descent stood atop the neighboring apartment building, shooting downward with a long-lens camera. He was not photographing me, but rather my building -- one of the lower apartments, just beneath mine. This left me unsettled. I have never seen this man before, nor have I ever seen anyone on the roof of that building. He was not in uniform, and he took no special effort to remain concealed. He simply stood there, taking photos, then shifting position to shoot in the other direction.

This was my only foray outdoors today. Otherwise I divide my time between reading, researching, and watching news of Haiti, where I presume Rebecca continues to labor as part of a relief organization.

Her mail today: more utility bills; an envelope from the California Department of Labor (unemployment check?); a slightly fattened envelope from Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine; and a curling stack of glossy papers commonly referred to as "junk mail". As always, humans are distressingly fond of wasting paper and ink on the promotion of discounted consumer goods.

I did look up "chasing tail" in our idiomatic English database, and found that it means to "pursue women for casual sexual relations". "Tail" in this case being a derogatory word for "female", specifically the lower half or "tail end" of a woman, meaning her genitals. So it appears that Lester is willing to watch Jughead because he hopes to garner favor with Rebecca upon her return, in the hopes of establishing sexual relations with her. I doubt very much whether Lester's intentions are casual, though, as the investment of time -- 6 weeks with an ornery, unattractive animal -- seems hardly worth the reward.