So yesterday I went to the Getty. I won't have time to see the photography shows at the other museums that I wanted to get to, because I wait until the last minute for everything, but I got myself to the Getty to see the Photographers of Genius show.

It was spectacular. The greatest thing about it is that I often see extremely early photography in museums that is just there because it is extremely early photography, not because it is particularly good or interesting, but these pictures were chosen with such care that every one of them was worth looking at for more than just historic reasons.

The exhibit was set up in such a way that you really got an idea of what it was like to be a photographer throughout the years. The huge early cameras, the glass plates, the fact that these intrepid men (mostly) had to lug all of this equipment around along with portable darkrooms makes it all the more amazing that these images were beautiful and well-composed in addition to existing at all.

The later photography was also well-chosen. I especially like street scenes and candids where you can see how people really lived and what they looked like in the day to day. They make me wish I were there, they make me sorry that I missed those times.

It made me think that someday the everyday photography that we do of our street scenes and our lives will be looked at the same way. Someday, this will all be long ago, and it's important to document our now, because it will be as gone as those people and streets in the photos that I saw yesterday.

It was a beautiful day, and I love the Getty building, it's so intense. And I was so glad that I had my camera, because museums always supercharge me artistically. Seeing all that amazing photography and being in that beautiful place just set me on fire.

After I got home, I puttered around the house, sunned myself in the backyard, did the dishes, poured the water out the back door like I'm living in pioneer times, the usual.

I sat on the sofa watching TV, sort of noticing that Baldrick wasn't hanging out with me as he usually is, but figuring that he was upstairs sleeping on my bed or something. Hours later, I went outside to smoke on the front steps, and after about ten or twenty minutes, suddenly there was this black and white flash, and the cat was running up the steps to me!

He was out and we never knew it! I was really freaked out, because I couldn't figure out when he could have possibly gotten out! He was outside with me when I was working on my tan, but I brought him back in with me and definitely saw him afterwards.

Literally the only thing I could think of was that he snuck out after me when I took the dishwater out, but that was several hours before I went out to smoke. He could have gotten lost, he could have gotten hit by a car, he could have stayed out all night. I could have lost him forever. If I hadn't gone out to smoke, what would he have done?

Smoking is bad, I know that I shouldn't smoke, but I certainly am grateful that I haven't quit yet.

1`

Today's horoscope:
Stop imagining that tall, dark stranger. You have far more important things to think about. For starters, you need to figure out how to react when you actually cross paths with them.

One year ago today:
Anyway, I got to the theatre and immediately told everyone the story about Omar fucking me too hard in the show the night before and practically knocking me off of him, so after the show everyone went up to him and asked him "Did you fuck her too hard tonight?" until his ears turned bright red.

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