This is one of those nights when I'd rather be somewhere other than here. Late summer ennui has set in, the noise of the cicadas is irritating me almost as much as the dry, warm air, and I can't concentrate on anything. The Internets are not providing sufficient distraction from this restlessness— not even though I've found a website with hundreds of old postcards of San Francisco, including this evocative hand-tinted photo of fishermen mending nets at the wharf, made sometime early in the 20th century (it bears a 1911 postmark.) Fishing nets. Internets. Never thought of that before.