EXCERPT FROM GASLIGHTING GRETA

When I spoke with Greta in November and asked to see the next journal book, she replied instantly, ‘There’s nothing worth writing about. I breezed through it, and it’s all about what to sell of my treasures, finances, and whiny words.’ I asked if she’d send me the journal just in case there is a good transition to the next season. She said, All right. I imagine she ripped out the pages she didn’t want to reveal.

 FROM THE JOURNAL

day in bed, emptied into a slab of molasses. In the next room, half-wrapped boxed books, photographs, summer clothes that need to be stored. Fall light appears in the dining music room and falls on a stack of Swing vinyl. I need to listen to this music in the winter. I search for jobs on Indeed in the gallery museum category. What the heck! There are so many requirements I’ve never heard of. It’s all tech, and I’m not an alpha beast expert in SEO, platforms, social media, Excel, Adobe, and PowerPoint. I do have experience. I am passionately curious about artists’ lives and art history. Now I am the one being interviewed by a thirty-year-old when once I was on the other side, a juxtaposition of reality. That kind of thinking got me into trouble, too much imagination and not enough reality. What is the name of that kind of person? Escapist, misfit, eccentric, dreamer?