Between, yet, more news about cyclones, earthquakes, a collapsing Democratic party, not to mention the prospect of going back to work (yes, I got a job) combined with the effects of caffeine over-saturation (to make up a redundant grammatically degenerative word), today I decided to forsake my compulsive American work ethic and take my tired ass out on an Artist Date at the Getty.

What I like about the Getty is that it's on a hill, and it allows me to look over Los Angeles and, thus, put all the petty little problems sprawled out below into better perspective. I also like the tram. Oh, and the art is ok, too...

After wandering around the impressionist, and the depressing California Video exhibit (why is video art always dark and cryptic?), I thought, "Fuck it! Who needs art when it's 90 degrees out and I'm surrounded by fountains?" And so I sprawled out next to the southernmost fountain and decided to work on my tan while I closed my eyes and imagined that I was at a spa next to an infiniti pool. The blindingly white slabs made the sun extra strong and helped create the resort effect. Not bad for $8.

Afterwards, I went to the garden. This is my tribute to Georgia O'Keefe.

Just for today, I can get out of my funk at the Getty.