What the fuck is fun?

It was suggested to me yesterday that I get some more fun in my life.

Well, damn it, I was busy working on figuring it out, yeah, I know, figure it out is not a slogan, fuck off.

But really?


What do I do for fun?

I was writing this morning and trying to not get too twisted in figuring out what I was going to do with my day.  I knew I had a commitment to attend to at 6:30 p.m. and that after that I was going to have dinner with a dear friend that just relocated back to San Francisco.

Welcome home!

So glad you are back.

That is fun, getting together with my friends, sharing memories, and stories, swapping tales over a meal.

But I digress, I am not to the fun yet.

First the litter boxes must be cleaned and the cats watered, fed, and let out to play in the back yard.  The bed needs to be stripped and the sheets tossed through the laundry and since I like to leave it better than I found it, take out  the recycling and tidy up the kitchen.


Fueled by a French press pot of Four Barrel, that was almost fun.

But not quite.

I could watch Netflix.

Damn you, who turned me onto the West WIng?

That is not fun, I mean, it sort of is, but it’s more like checking out than it is fun.

So I just continued on with my morning, tidying, straightening, doing laundry, et al.


There is always the writing.

There is the blogging, the morning pages, and what ever comes next as far as the creative process goes (I have some ideas) and as I was scribbling away in my notebook I realized, hey, when was the last time I went on an artist date?

The DeYoung Museum is pretty close, just popped into my head.

I have no clue why, although when I poked my head into the cafeteria before I went through the museum I realized that hmm, I might have had some ulterior motives, the Mister works from the DeYoung on the occasion, I just went with it.

I finished up the clean up, made the bed, and scooted off on my bicycle for an afternoon of art amongst the tourists.

Lot of French people, of which I actually had a conversation with one in front of the museum as I was framing a shot of my bike.

DeYoung Musuem

My bike at the DeYoung

It reminded me of having taken a photograph of my bicycle in front of the Louvre and also at the Palais de Tokyo in Paris.

I like that, let me take photographs of my bike in front of all the museums I bicycle to.  Then I will post up a photo blog of them all.

In fact, I was thinking as I stood and got good and art high, why not go to all the museums I can over the next few weeks.

I have not been to the Legion of Honor in years, I have only gone once (I could have gotten in today with my ticket stub from the DeYoung, but I was too pooped after having made three rounds through the DeYoung to bike out to the Legion), I can ride my bike there for sure.

I have not been to the MOMA for a while, over nine months, almost ten.

I bet there’s a museum or two in Oakland I could go to.

I started getting ideas and liking them more and more.

Going to museums is fun.

For me.

I don’t think it is for everyone, I think it can be a bit of a chore.

But I go for the high and the high always happens.

I got it today in front of the Edward Hopper “Esso” painting which I had never seen before.  God damn I love his work.

I also got it when I walked into a gallery that was devoted to Chilully glass works, which were cool and distinctive and I found quite attractive, but they did not give the me high, rather the light and glass mobile installation hanging from the ceiling is what got me off.

Oh yes, that’s right, I got off.

I walked into the room, my eyes were drawn up and I said, out loud, “oh my god, that is amazing.”

I stood under the lights transfixed.

Segue–how glad am I to get to go to Burning Man?



This photograph does not do justice to the magic that is happening, the shadows, the luminosity of the glass, the way the light bends around the shape of the container and sprays a new shard of light off a round edge, the entire ceiling was amassed with bulbs off glass that looked like rain drops and then everything was over lit with white light.

The shadows on the walls were enough to transfix me for some time.

God damn I love art.

I also really love the observation deck at the DeYoung and as I stood on the looking out over the park and the neighborhoods I ruminated on getting one of the blow up posters of the aerial maps of San Francisco for my new studio.

Just something to think about.

I also debated getting a refrigerator magnet, but truth be told, the ones that they had were not appealing, I spent a bit of time raking through the gift stores too.

I can window shop like a motherfucker in a museum gift shop.

I saw one art book I was quite tempted to purchase and I think I shall go back for, but knowing that I have only so much room in my messenger bag and I was to be heading back to East Oakland this evening (fully ensconced back at Graceland as I type) I deigned to buy it.

I left the museum satisfied, satiated, filled up with light and colors and sculpture and hopped on my bicycle to enjoy the remainder of Sunday Streets in the Golden Gate Park.

A quick spin through the fog and back to my day.

That was fun.

Let’s see what I can come up with for tomorrow.

Oh, and, hey you!  Yes, you.

If you have any ideas, let me know, I’ve got two weeks of down time and I am up for seeing and doing more fun stuff.


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