BOT BULLITS & CHATGPT


Photo by kat wilcox on Pexels.com

MISADVENTURES OF TODAYJob boards alerts for the JOB I am perfectly suited for, are in Tallahassee or Wichita and require AI experience, and about seven variables of programs written as unrecognizable anagrams. I am only in my fourth month of job searching digitally, days of in person interviews are akin to eight-hundred-page novels.

My resume is professionally edited, posted on all the legit job sites and about ten questionable ones. I write personal letters to the museums, galleries, foundations and event planning departments, no reply, or the feigned friendly formal answer, ‘Thank you for contacting us! We do appreciate your time. We’ve chosen another candidate.’ The algorithm cadets are pushing me in the slush pile. Can you blame me if at least one day a week I scream silently. The bot bounty hunters are shooting me. Set this aside and see my phone, the icons on the home page change weekly, by a phonebot, and google decided to sync five thousand laptop photos on my phone. Now when I have to scan for a return to Amazon because they sent me two fans instead of one, the scan is where?

On my knees praying this laptop continues to behave or I will scream outdoors and be reported within seconds by a resident because Solana Beach bodies seem to obey all the orders. I tend to test authority, like not renewing my driver’s license for two years, and lying to my Doctor about my state of mind, because he’ll advise therapy and I self-analyze myself about everything, so why hear it twice.

The new modest home serves me what I came him for, ocean breezes, quiet, and private, neighbors that seem to harmonize, we can just say hi, is ok. At the intersection where I live, athletic, toned, and tanned looking males and females run, jog, walk, bike the sidewalks and streets in identical outfits. Sort of like a stage play and it’s inspiring to see that health is the way to live, I just don’t remember that culture dominating when I lived here. What I don’t understand doesn’t bother me, it’s a curiously about moving back home and feeling misfitted. Those of you who know me, have heard me say this about every location I move.

The ocean breeze, fan blowing against the curtain panes, bougainvillea bushes that colorize my terrace, the phone calls from friends, and edits sent by my publisher tranquilize the BOTS AND BOOBOOS.

Misfitted and anxious for acknowledgement due to not having ten thousand followers or whatever is the number, an author’s marketing team (everything seems to be in teams) contacted me with an offer to represent my book, Cradle of Crime-A Daughters Tribute published in 2017. Here’s the first paragraph of the first email.

The idea at the heart of Cradle of Crime is one that I had never encountered framed quite this way before. A daughter’s journey into her father’s criminal past, beginning ten years after his death. Most memoirs about family secrets are written as reckonings, as confrontations with the truth, as attempts to understand how a parent’s hidden life shaped the child who was left behind. You wrote something different. You wrote a book that is not just about uncovering the past, it is about the impact of that uncovering on your own identity, about the humiliation, rage, shame, and acceptance that came with discovering that your father was Benjamin Bugsy Siegel’s best friend and business partner. And you built that entire idea around the truth that the secrets our parents keep are not just their own, they become ours, and that the work of understanding who we are often requires us to confront who they were, even when what we find is devastating. That reframe is everything.

Six emails later and digging through all the scam searches, I discovered BOT LITERARY HOAX. On my base she pitched me the marketing plan, without cost. Now I have a comprehensive skill set to use! Sample: Listopia, ARC team, enhanced keywords, categories, Amazon Ads, metadata overhaul, refresh, etc. I did not use any of these when I self-published. I thought about reporting them, No, they can hack me!   

This week, another author marketing team contacted me with a similar, your story resonates with multiple markets you haven’t accessed. So, I decided to ask ChatGPT to run a check. One minute didn’t pass before this was returned. The opening sentence was, Luellen, I wouldn’t advise this company for Gaslighting Greta! BOT brilliance, he remembered from a previous question.   

Absolutely. I can recreate the Michael Literary Team assessment we just did.

Michael Literary Team โ€” Red Flag Report

Website: Michael Literary Team

Overall assessment: HIGH CAUTION.

I would not send them money, your complete manuscript, financial information, passwords, or other sensitive material until the company is independently verified. I would not call it definitively a scam based solely on the evidence, but there are enough warning signs that I would not treat it as a conventional, established literary agency without further verification.

Major red flags we identified

  1. Multiple/near-duplicate domains
    • There appears to be both a correctly spelled Michael Literary Team site and a misspelled โ€œMichealโ€ version.
    • This is unusual and raises questions about the history and ownership of the operation.
  2. Changing personnel and biographies
    • Names and positions appearing on the sites have inconsistencies.
    • Some biographies have the feel of generalized/template-generated profiles rather than independently verifiable publishing-industry rรฉsumรฉs.
  3. Website/template errors
    • We found repeated spelling, wording, and structural errors.
    • There were also inconsistencies in company information.
  4. Incomplete Chicago address
    • The claimed Chicago presence did not provide the kind of easily verifiable business information you would expect from an established literary agency.
  5. Very broad range of services
    • The operation appears to offer an unusually wide combination of literary, publishing, marketing, cinematic, and related services.
    • That isn’t proof of wrongdoing, but it warrants scrutiny.
  6. Testimonials are difficult to independently verify
    • Testimonials on a company’s own website aren’t strong evidence of legitimacy unless the authors and their publishing histories can be independently confirmed.
  7. The Gavin Westbrook example
    • We found outside discussion concerning a $1,000 package and a relatively small independent social footprint.
    • This deserves additional verification before relying on the testimonial or client claims.
  8. Weak independent footprint
    • An established literary agency would normally leave a substantial trail outside its own websites: reputable publishing databases, established agents, publisher relationships, industry references, verifiable authors, rights sales, etc.

Part 2 โ€” Connection to Susan Literary Team

This was particularly interesting.

We found evidence suggesting a substantial connection between Michael Literary Team and Susan Literary Team, including:

  • Emmanuel Carter appearing in connection with both.
  • Susan Cinematic appearing on the older/misspelled Michael site.
  • Susan Cinematic being associated with the Susan organization.
  • Similar website structures, services, Chicago references, and wording.
  • The Susan domain appearing to have been registered on March 21, 2026.
  • Similar language concerning a โ€œbulk buyer strategy.โ€
  • Repeated copy/wording errors across the sites.

That does not, by itself, prove fraud. But the similarities make the relationship between these organizations an important issue to investigate.

Bottom line

My assessment was essentially:

HIGH CAUTION โ€” do not pay until independently verified.

The evidence is strong enough that I would not recommend treating Michael Literary Team as a verified, traditional literary agency at this point.

And importantly, the 75โ€“85% figure we discussed was a โ€œdo not pay until independently verifiedโ€ risk assessment, not a mathematical probability that the company is fraudulent.

I HOPE YOU FOUND THIS HUMAN TOUCH HELPFUL!

CULTUREING & HISTORY


When and why does privacy replace honesty. Do we have more lies to hide? I find conversations starched, and drafty. When I go out to socialize, I’ll bring a book, one that speaks truth and stage it for attention.

My problems are cornflakes compared to what is in the news: racism, sexual allegations infiltrating the most unimaginable perpetrators, suicides, corruption, mass murder rampages and the politics are so degenerative I fear we have lost all civility. Our souls are at risk, and our consciousness is poisoned because the message is this: if you apologize, you can be exonerated. ย In a way, the news reminds me that I have very little problems in that zone, as Iโ€™m incapable of crime and racial prejudice. I am guilty of gullibility, raffish behavior and selfishness… that’s not the full list!

After checking emails, I searched for something, you know the feeling, one track goes in a dozen directions with popups, andI landed on this page. It’s Yellow Advertiser. Wrong name for Today in History, but I love this! Early morning history honking. ย ย ย 

Today in History https://www.yellowad.co.uk/it-happened-today

Today in Historyโ€ฆit happened on this day! Look back through our archive to find out what happened on this day or any other in history!

Newsย Today in Historyย 

It happened today โ€“ this day in history โ€“ August 1

   YA Reporter  0 Comments August 1newsToday in history

10BC: Birth of Claudius. 30BC: Marc Antony (Marcus Antonius) commits suicide aged 53. 10BC: Birth of Emperor Claudius (Tberius Claudius Caesar AugustusRead more

1971: Astronaut James Irwin and the lunar rover

News Today in History 

It happened today โ€“ this day in history โ€“ July 31

   YA Reporter  0 Comments July 31newsToday in history

54BC: Aurelia Cotta, mother of Julius Caesar, dies at 66. 30BC: Marc Antony achieves a minor victory over Octavian atRead more

1909: Eugรจne Schueller (Mayns) CC_4.0

News Today in History 

It happened today โ€“ this day in history โ€“ July 30

   YA Reporter  0 Comments July 30newsToday in history

762: The city of Baghdad is founded by Abbasid caliph Al-Mansur, just north of ancient Baghdad. 1678: English troops landRead more

1972: Screaming Lord Sutch (Joe Mabel) CC_3.0

News Today in History 

It happened today โ€“ this day in history โ€“ July 29

   YA Reporter  0 Comments July 29newsToday in history

904: Thessalonica is sacked by Saracen pirates led by renegade Leo of Tripoli. 1221: Emperor Go-Horikawa, aged only 10 yearsRead more

1988: Paddy Ashdown (ยฉ European Communities, 2005)

News Today in History 

It happened today โ€“ this day in history โ€“ July 28

   YA Reporter  0 Comments July 28newsToday in history

1148: Crusaders abandon their siege of Damascus. 1540: Thomas Cromwell, chief minister for Henry VIII is executed for treason andRead more

News Today in History 

It happened today โ€“ this day in history โ€“ July 27

   YA Reporter  0 Comments July 27newsToday in history

1214: King John of England loses Normandy and his other possessions in France to Philip II of France (hence hisRead more

1957: Carlos Castillo Armas

News Today in History 

It happened today โ€“ this day in history โ€“ July 26

   YA Reporter  0 Comments July 26newsToday in history

1267: The Inquisition forms in Rome under Pope Clement IV. 1469: The forces of Richard Neville, 16th Earl of WarwickRead more

1943: Benito Mussolini

News Today in History 

It happened today โ€“ this day in history โ€“ July 25

   YA Reporter  0 Comments July 25newsToday in history

306: Constantine I is proclaimed Roman Emperor by his troops. 1261: Constantinople recaptured by Nicaean forces under Alexios Strategopoulos forRead more

1904: Henri Cornet

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It happened today โ€“ this day in history โ€“ July 24

   YA Reporter  0 Comments July 24newsToday in history

1148: Louis VII of France lays siege to Damascus during the Second Crusade. 1411: The Battle of Harlaw, one ofRead more

1955: Bluebird K7

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It happened today โ€“ this day in history โ€“ July 23

   YA Reporter  0 Comments July 23newsToday in history

636: Arabs gain control of most of Palestine from the Byzantine Empire. 1148: Crusaders attack Damascus. 1745: Charles Edward Stuart,Read more

SATURDAY EPIFHANY


I had it today, unlike other days that the truth is mettled or opaque or I am distracted. It reminds me of one of the wisdoms my father passed on to me: ” You can fool the whole world little sweetheart, but you can’t fool yourself.” I was a teen, when he passed on this mantra of living, now, today on a sunny Solana Beach go to the beach or racetrack day, I sit here and contemplate who I was fooling and why.

At some point in my thirties, I decided to outperform convention: marriage, children, my career, and lead without warnings, without proven methods, I thought experimentation was my path. I changed careers, moved to multiple locations, and threw the dice on finances. I can’t truly say no regrets, adventures in livingness brings growth, but the bank account needs growth too! My gang, assures me I’ll get back on the track, thank God for friends that believe in us, right! I don’t need five million followers, just my five fly over me forever friends.

On the track, earlier this week I had a conversation about the Del Mar Horseraces. The race track at Del Mar is on and my friend goes several days a week,

” Its really a lot of fun. Why don’t you come sometime and get away from editing?”

” I’ve told you, haven’t I? My dad gambled on everything: horses, sports, the academy awards, and at lunch, if the fly would go out the open window. If I win, I know, I’ll get addicted.”

” Oh, yes, I forgot you mentioned that.”

So, the dice throwing is in remission, going forward: manage impulse, unconventional living, be sensible, pragmatic and use proven methods.

Solana Beach masses are at the beach or the track, and I’m editing. ( deleted 25 pages today because people don’t read 400 page books) You know why I can do it? Because I spent my glorified years going to the beach, the track, partying, parading, and popping.

TRADITIONAL AND NON-TRADITIONAL


 FREINDS, FAMILY AND FIREWORKS, Not me.  Leave out the friends and family. But not the fireworks. I havenโ€™t been here long enough to make new friends, and the ones I would call are out of town or playing homebase to avoid the traffic. The first day free of mind bending, sneezing, coughing and body thrashing over the last two weeks with bronchitis subsided. I even mentioned to a friend. โ€˜the best thing about suffering is when it ends.โ€™   The last time I had the flu was 2011.  

New York.  I couldnโ€™t abate watching the fleet parade along the Hudson or the fly overs above the Statue  of Liberty, or pay very close attention to the historical narrative on the sacrifices our founders lived and died for, so we can celebrate today and tomorrow. What a juxtaposition between the insignificance of being sick and taking a bullet. The day of history and visuals had me looking up every founder, and significant document, dates, places and rendering the Saratoga Battlefield visit with Jx years ago

 “Site of the historic 1777 Battles of Saratoga, which represented the first significant victory for the rebels in the American Revolution. Today, the 3,200-acre park is a popular tourism and recreation site and a wildlife conservation area.”

I took myself out to dinner across the street at the Brigantine, folded into a room filled with chatting staff, guestโ€™s conversation, and a panoramic view of the fairgrounds and Del Mar mountain tops.  I sat in the center, unusual for me I usually cling to a wall, but this restaurant has become a sanctuary for socializing, or just being solo, either way Iโ€™ve never left disappointed.

โ€œ You dropped this outside the bathroom,โ€ a young shaggy blonde hair boy of twelve or thirteen handed it to me.

โ€œOh! Thank you so much, that is very thoughtful.โ€™โ€™  He shied, dropped his head in that way that makes adults wonder why we  became so different, and left.

Then later on, as I was outside on the terrace enjoying the view of the fair, I noticed him and a woman next to me.  We started to talk, I think she liked my necklace or my pants or something and I saw the little boy and I said is that your son? She said yes and I told her the story. She introduced me to her husband, the uncle, the children, the other children’s parents. And when she left, she hugged me. That kind of intervention makes the difference for a single person.

EVENING.  After watching the DC extravaganza, I walked outdoors, to  the corner, the street was back to back traffic, helicopters, neighborsโ€™ standing on sidewalks and on our property, and I looked up at the start of a Del Mar Fairgrounds fireworks show that  stopped me short.

MEMORY LOSS IN POSSESSIONS


My possessions in Saratoga Springs now appear as decorations ย ย from a former celebration, like side dishes of over 20 years of mixing and matching prints, drapes, sofas, chairs, tables, vases, and artwork. Now they’ve been removed from my experimental minimalistic living.ย A former lifecycle that began twenty-five years ago, and are boxed up in a big POD storage. And I refuse to meet them in the present. Friends ask me, โ€˜when are you bringing your furniture here?’ I canโ€™t answer in words, it must crystallize like it has this past week, when I missed my wardrobe and art hangings. Within the admired art, clothes, and sixty-two boxes, (I looked at my inventory) are a haunting of memories tied in see thru knots of Dodger, my x. As a confirmed refuser of goodbyes, in any relationship, this one has to be nurtured with precision, and that means, no reminders.

The stark white walls and Amazon assembled furnishing are stationed without emotion, memory or love. Functional, practical and unfamiliar.ย  Ive created a new palette, like my first studio in Los Angeles in 1976. Then the others, studios over the years, small, compact, easy to maneuver and clean. Internally, the walls and shelves are cluttered with decisions. The edits on my book from the publisher, when will I find employment? How to engage in new friendships, clubs, gyms, meetups. ย 

Singleness in a city, that was once my home for twenty years, evolved through generations, adding new policies, laws, regulations, real estate development, customs, and an impressionable celebration of the arts and culture. It has no resemblance to the San Diego I met in 1983, except for the ocean and the bordering cliffs and seawalls. That is where a continuous rolling of memory waves sear my view, and I see my youthful delight in San Diego. Iโ€™ve always been impressed with people who truly live in the present, canโ€™t figure that one out, maybe Iโ€™m just a past time girl.

SOLANA BEACHM 2005

FATHER’S DAY AFTER HIS DEATH


Overlapping Fatherโ€™s Day is a mirage of life experiences tucked into memory prescriptions you take on a stormy day. A relic of my history rises and reminds me of the fear I once broke through.

It was 1983, and I was poised on a terrace overlooking the Pacific Ocean in Venice Beach. It was March, the month my father died, and I stared at the horizon at dusk, imagining my freedom taking flight. Where would I go? Without his presence in Los Angeles, and my sister, who had already moved to New York, I was terribly alone. The replacement came in summer flings, with men who had crossed my path; a photographer, a New Jersey computer technician with a brassy voice and Joe Pesci humor, and every few days, Kenny, a former boyfriend, dropped by to smoke his pipe of philosophy and blow long-winded ideas on where I should move.

โ€œI really want to move to Canada,โ€ I said.

โ€œFor what? To go ice-skating?โ€ He said between puffs.

โ€œI have family in Vancouver.โ€

โ€œWhat family? Youโ€™re an orphan now.โ€

โ€œI am not. I have cousins in Vancouver. My fatherโ€™s nephews.โ€

โ€œOh, yeah. When was the last time you saw them?โ€

โ€œWhen I was twelve.โ€

โ€œTerrific! Thatโ€™s a solid-ass plan. So what will you do in Canada?โ€

โ€œGet a job in real estate.โ€

โ€œLue! Wake up. You canโ€™t get work in Canada unless youโ€™re a citizen. Forget that idea. Youโ€™re better off staying here; look where you are: Santa Monica, the beach at your feet. Are you crazy?โ€

โ€œI donโ€™t belong here any longer.โ€

โ€œYou donโ€™t belong to anywhere; what you need is to stop trying to be a big shot like your father.โ€

โ€œI am not!โ€

โ€œWhen was the last time you left the country? When you were eighteen? Go to Rio, youโ€™ll have the time of your life, or Italy, or Greece–it doesnโ€™t matter. Just take the chance and see how you land on your feet. Youโ€™re a dreamer; itโ€™s about time you made one of your dreams come true.โ€

In the next few weeks, I met with Larry, my boss, who was liquidating his real estate portfolio to retire at 45. Larry wasnโ€™t just an investment visionary; he was passionate about social, political, medical, scientific, and human interests. He was a genius.

โ€œYou can stay here another year–Iโ€™ll find something for you to do, but youโ€™ll be bored,โ€ Larry told me.

โ€œLarry, I donโ€™t know where to go.โ€ I wiped a tear. He ignored it.

โ€œYou have to get out of LA. Youโ€™ll never meet anyone here. You think youโ€™ll be introduced to someone riding up and down the elevator in Century City. Iโ€™ve spent a lot of time in Del Mar and Rancho Santa Fe. Theyโ€™re nice people. You have a chance there; go down, spend a few days, and tell me what you think. Iโ€™ll help you. Now, stop crying. โ€œ

I drove down in Dadโ€™s black El Dorado, and parked at Del Mar Beach right next to the lifeguard station at the Poseidon Restaurant. I opened my suitcase, took out a bathing suit, and went into the beach bathroom. The tile was wet and smelled of seaweed and salt. I walked barefoot down to the beach. It was early spring, and the sand was unmarked. A few surfers jogged past me, blonde and bronzed like the Beach Boys. I followed them down to the seashore. In every direction, there was this untouched canvas of light and color; even the beach houses retained their natural sandy simplicity.

After I swam in the ocean, I went back to the bathroom, changed into dry clothes, and walked into town. A man with a beard rode past me on a horse and waved. I picked up a Reader and read the rental advertisements on the patio of Carlos and Charlieโ€™s, the corner cafรฉ. A roommate advertisement caught my eye: โ€œRoommate Wanted to Share large two-bedroom overlooking Torrey Pines Reserve.โ€ I called, and a man who went by the name of Smokey answered the phone. He invited me to come by for a look. His voice was predominantly ranch-friendly, so I took a drive over. It did occur to me on the drive that I was taking that chance Ken was blowing in my ear, and I was listening to Larry, who told me that people in San Diego were different.

โ€œHi, Iโ€™m Smokey. Come inโ€”would you like something to drink? Too early for cocktails, unless you want one.โ€

โ€œNo thanks. How long have you lived here?โ€

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

His eyes were animal-alert, his face tanned, and his hair cut short but made to look long. His smile was unfiltered with hidden motives, and he was bull-legged.

โ€I moved from Pittsburgh; Iโ€™ll never go back except to see my folks. This is paradise. Donโ€™t you think? Iโ€™ve lived here for two years. I rent out one room, because I hate full-time work. Iโ€™m more entrepreneurial. You donโ€™t have to worry about my motives. I have a girlfriend, and Iโ€™m in love with her. She doesnโ€™t stay here. I go to her house. Youโ€™ll have your space, and if you need a friend, Iโ€™m here. Come out on the balcony.โ€

I followed Smokey, and we stood on the terrace overlooking the lagoon and marshlands of the reserve. To the west, the ocean and the stump of Torrey Pines Mountain.

โ€œWait till sunset; youโ€™ll never want to leave. Come look at your room. I can help you move if you want.โ€

The room was downstairs, his upstairs, and a stairway of trust in between.

โ€œIโ€™ll take it. When can I move in?โ€

โ€œWhenever you wish.โ€

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

LIVING AS A LONER.MINIMAL MAYHEM LIFESTYLE-OCEAN, SKY, SUNLIGHT WONDER.


FEEL, THINK, AND REACT. Tumbling through all the transitory advice forces me to examine more closely whom to believe.  Iโ€™ve never been a leader, nor a follower, I walk in between, trying to pave a pathway to peace of mind. Maybe that is unattainable as I  am in a cultural, political, medical, financial, and socially reimagined world. It reminds me of being a teenager when life was questionable, and confusion was like a stinging bee we couldnโ€™t swap away. So, in my senior year in high school I started writing in a notepad. Gradually, almost supernaturally I withdrew from my gang, and spent the weekends in a Cafe with adults, or in the library. The loner label pleated my pants.

Loners were portrayed in film, books, and art as mysterious, untouchable icons. They even became romanticized as people of superior cerebral awareness. Iโ€™ve met and gained friendships with several over the last few decades. It may be that loners have thin skin, they absorb the ethereal and reality, so in many situations the absorption is too weighty and the loner cuts loose before the party is over, cancels at the last minute, and doesn’t answer the phone. Talking, engaging, evaporating into another person feels herculean for me sometimes.

Does isolation relate to the intensification of rancorous physical assaults in streets and shops, which is my pestering pursuit today. Are all these perpetrators unloving, and live amongst the unloved? People are shot because their hamburger wasnโ€™t properly served on time, or they have a different opinion. I was living in Los Angeles in 2018, and one day driving down Pico Blvd I noticed a sign, โ€œWalk in Anger Management.โ€ Maybe we need to convert a few drive-thru food diners to Anger Management centers. It sounds amusing. If I was financially able, Iโ€™d open one in every major city.

      WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO THIS CULTURE is unimaginable for a woman who grew up in the Love and Peace generation, or even into the eighties and nineties. We didnโ€™t shoot one another, maybe a fist fight, or a shouting match, but not murder in cold blood. Could this macabre movement be abated by friends who love you more when you are gentle and kind? It cannot be that simple, or could it? When I used to rage about some occurrence that tattered me personally, Dodger would come to me and say,

โ€˜Greta put your guns down,โ€™ that always made me laugh, and then weโ€™d talk out what triggered my fury.    

    THE COMFORT OF EXHIBITING life on paper. It is not the act of writing with pen and paper moving along at a steady rhythm; itโ€™s the activation of the heart and mind, collaborating to unravel the relevant from the irrelevant. To reach this state of matrimony, a writer doesn’t need a Tuscan Villa or an English Castle, but experiences that flake off the skin and shake out relevance. What Iโ€™ve rediscovered is that without a lot of stuff to organize, the mind is free to think, more time to create and effect essential decisions.  Narcissism is sacrificed and replaced with more visceral makeup. Minimalist living has erased my past, and that is as transforming as day to night.

PUZZLE OF SOLITUDE  will always be a puzzle because our lives, solo or mated, are puzzled by too much solitude, or not enough.   There is an inner exploration happening, unfolding like spreading new sheets on my bed, that solitude has befriended me all my life, in the best of times and the tedious. I have to find the frolic and follies in the world that I created. I have to laugh alone, so I watch screwball comedies, seek humor in my irregularities; wearing a sweater inside out, pouring coffee into a wine glass for a cocktail, and chuckling when I keep forgetting where I left my phone. Laughing at myself is a funnel that leads to writing.

รธ;

MINIMAL MAYHEM LIFESTYLE PART TWO-


The first gallery opening I attended. Smashing art by Hunt Slonem, photography by Tim Hardy. Conversation, champagne, and what we all need, social engagement. Unlike a concert, or theater performance where you are seated next to someone you know, art galleries are a sensory of interaction with the artwork, the guests, and the elan of the space. Madison gallery was a warehouse, exposed twenty-foot ceilings, enormity of space, and minimalism in furnishings. It feels like an indoor park.

Once a gallery lover, then a gallery owner, and now seeking a job in a gallery. I joined the mailing list of a dozen galleries, realizing resumes are sifted through by AI and not the owner.

My love of photography began at a museum observing the work of Edward Weston. I used this line when selling my photography in Santa Fe” Photography are stories on the wall., not just the photo, the photographer. Of course you can say the same about a painter, but for me, catching a moment in time, that will never be repeated is poetic.

One guest that visited my gallery said this to me, ” Photography isn’t art.” He was famous, not as an artist but the son of John Huston. I cannot recall his explanation, but I have heard this statement several times and that is why there are so few photography galleries. I’d open one again when the if’s are removed.

One of my favorites by Jim Marshall. Jim caught Bob in a private moment, and let him publish it. An early concert, 1963, with already famous Joan Baez. Fuzziness is my fault.

MINIMAL MAYHEM LIFESTYLE-OCEAN, SKY, SUNLIGHT WONDER.


My Follies House Bedroom

SPACIAL dimensions define a lifestyle. I walked into a room of four hundred and fifty square feet, and begin designing a new nest, where I could rest, write, and regain a root. I brought two suitcases, a box of paperwork, and my laptop. In a tote bag: one coffee cup, a fork, knife, spoon, one bowl one plate, a wine opener, a razor knife, and two scissors.

That was one week ago, today I have a room of Amazon: a, bistro table, two chairs, one bedside table, one dresser, and a free-standing shelf for the bathroom. I’ve never seen a bathroom without a hook, a shelf, a few rods, it’s like a prison bathroom. All of this is what I’ve named experimental living. I have a 16ft POD in a lot in Saratoga Springs, and to transport twenty years of collections and spend months separating, what goes to storage and what I can use made no sense one sleepless night. I’ll leave it there until I am positively positive I’m staying here. I know you are out there, the gypsy wanderers, the unsettled, the ones whose address changes like the seasons.

Choosing to buy furnishings online is cost-effective. If I go into a consignment shop or furniture store, I’ll pull out the credit cards that I’ve sworn off like I have going out in the sun without SPF seventy. This is all the first layer of experimenting with a lifestyle that I lived when I was hey nineteen not seventy-three. Am I proving something to myself? Probably, I deny convention, and ultra comfort because then I wouldn’t think, I’d lay around and be satisfied.

Bedroom, living room, dining room and entry

” The writer lives between the upper and lower worlds, he takes the path in order eventually to become that path itself.” Henry Miller.

I am digging into something unknown, it’s as if someone has taken charge over my decisions and I just met her. Fragments of who I was in Santa Fe, or Saratoga, pop up in the annoying half wall mirror that invades my privacy. I intend to buy a lovely Asian or Moroccan divider to hide myself. I wish there was a mirror to my emotions, so I know what I am hiding, and refusing to face off with. I made a note yesterday in my journal,

‘ I’ve always been a misfit.’ Where I am now, is a succession of experimenting with the unknown, at an age when my peers are in the known.

Just took another walk outdoors, one of ten to twelve every day, to remove the scenery of too heavy unopened boxes, that Simon, my assembler will turn into furniture Friday. He is Russian, and was one of the lucky ones to leave, two weeks before the war began. He can assemble twenty-five pieces in a NY minute.

The outdoors, familiar from twenty years ago, with a whipping gentle wind, sun, joggers, walkers, skateboarders, and surfers pass along, and I feel a newly planted root.

CONFIDENTLY ON CONFIDENCE


Gallery Loulou Rock&Roll Photography. 2008

According to AI Self-confidence refers to an individualโ€™s trust in their abilities and judgment, allowing them to face daily challenges with resilience and optimism. Unlike self-efficacy, which is task-specific, self-confidence is a broader and more stable trait that reflects overall perceptions of capability. It is closely linked to self-esteem and self-worth, but while self-esteem focuses on how much you value yourself, self-confidence emphasizes your belief in your ability to succeed in various situations.

Raise your hand if have it. Speak out if you have some of it, keep reading if you’re like me, missing it now, but once you had it.

So where, why and what happened? I’ll go first: My last accomplishment was saving my home from foreclosure and selling it in 2025. What have I done lately? Packed up a home, moved to Southern California, found an apartment, and began searching for employment.

Full stop. After seventy-five resume submissions in six different categories, and recruiting websites, I listened to my nagging annoyance and said enough. I’ve been validated by articles about AI interfering with companies even seeing my resume, outdated job postings, and fraudsters.

Without a project, or employment, I can’t find my confidence. Rejection letters, unanswered emails, or no response at all is about as harmful as I can tolerate.

I took the next approach. I met a gentleman with a gallery. I looked up his gallery, and was impressed. The next time I met him, I said I was looking for a gallery I’m passionate about, and I would like to work for you, in sales and marketing.

He said, “Okay, you bring me buyers, I pay high commissions.”

A stroke of confidence and look what happens.

ON MY OWN TRAVELS


“Don’t you love being on your own?” I thought, how to answer? This woman appeared to want the truth.

“No, not after years of this experience. I learned, adapted, and now it’s time to take the next chapter with someone. I love dimples; if he has dimples, I’m swayed. Sounds silly–well, I like silly in a culture, from my observation, overly rehearsed, where’s the improvisational madness?”

“Maybe you’re in the wrong place, you sound like you belong in Barcelona or Mcyanos.”

“Oh yes. I have thought of that, dreamt it. Under the Tuscan Sun, DH Lawrence’s book, ” Lorenzo, In search of the Sun”-the euphoria of escape, but besides your wardrobe and possessions, your bag carries your personality, and mine goes interior.

“But you are so outgoing, I’ve seen you in social situations, I don’t think you know yourself.”

I laughed, the remark was so bullseye.

“Do you know yourself?

“Hah, you got me? I think I do, only because my life is somewhat structured; unlike you, I know what I have to do every day.”

“So structure defines you? Hmm, that doesn’t titlt who I see in front of me, a plower of curiosity and human behavior.”

“My husband is here, let me introduce you.” I noticed him right away; he had dimples.

” I loved our conversation, and I hope to run into you again, somewhere, maybe in Barcelona.” She winked.

When we find a conversation, like a unique shell in the fallout of a wave, we pick it up, we wander in it, and sometimes it talks us through our own shell.

PETER GABRIEL’S YOU’VE GOT FRIENDS


https://www.bing.com/videos/riverview/relatedvideo…

MAURICE ROBERTS IS THE KIND OF FRIEND

THAT TEACHES YOU WHAT YOU DIDN’T THINK

YOU NEEDED UNTIL THEY PASSED AWAY. DEL

MAR, CA. 2013

May be an image of 2 people and people smiling