RAVELING THOUGHTS ON DEL MAR HOTEL LIFE, EMPLOYMENT, AND MEMORIES.


AS I AM ABOUT TO ENTER THE ELEVATOR, the guests inside bounce out, SOME SAY EXCUSE ME, SOME DON’T. DO I EXPECT TOO MUCH? YES. I live in a culture of me before you. One woman, as we stood waiting for the elevator, looked at me, ” Oh these elevators are so slow, don’t you think?”

“Yes, but what irks me is the guests outside don’t wait for the ones inside to come out.. they bulldoze.

” This happens all the time, and you’re the first guest who said that.” I was thinking that too! Well, I don’t think people are very happy here, not friendly at all,” she said, relieved. Like it was bottled up and needed a cork to let her speak.

“So it’s not just me!”

” No! I used to live here many years ago, I moved to the Midwest and I love it, ” smiling as if just thinking about going home.

‘ I understand completely. I lived here years ago; it was like living with smiling children who suddenly reformed into I’m first – adults. So serious.”

” Yes! I’m glad I’m only here for a few days. I can’t wait to get home,” she said earnestly.

We parted, and the assurance of my senses was validated. Adapt, now as a Junior Senior, as I am still ready to be playful and honest, but not here. My attention is not to the guests, it is to the staff. Sabrina, Frank, Lorenzo, Jeremy, Nicholas, Trevor, Adam, Jazmin, and a few others. I listen to their stories, feel their pressing preparation to greet guests with jovial expressions, and patience. And checking into a hotel is no hands-on, swipe, scan, and off you go.

I chose a bench, just beyond the entrance, beside the pond and fountain, enveloped in Birds of Paradise, and plants I cannot name. That is my place for coffee and sunrise, and sunset, and a glass of wine. I can see the distant trees over Del Mar, the silhouette of rooftops, and the clouds. And, I see myself forty-three years ago, like Christopher Columbus, when I discovered Del Mar. A vignette of beachcombers, surfers, and a few scientific geniuses, celebrities, and, of course, Dinty Moore’s, and the former just horses racetrack. I was most content with Del Mar since leaving Westwood Village.

DEL MAR BEACH, CA.

Some say wherever you live, all that you possess psychologically goes with you, in a suitcase full of dreams. Mine did, and it has been a month, to fold up those memories, wrap them gently, and go away, not far, just enough to drain what was once.

Employment search is like this: click the link, upload, and then a text, no phone calls, no in-person interviews. The qualifications are two full pages, mostly in acronyms I’ve never heard of, overtime, weekends, and, for that, a trailblazing blessing to be part of the innovators, driven to success, on the cusp of revolutionizing the algorithm-interpersonal technology. Paraphasing one sample description for a Marketing Director. It is more than a Brave New World, it’s All in for ALGORITHMS: a data-tracking system in which an individual’s internet search history and browsing habits are used to.. JOIN, PURCHASE, SELL.

And AI: Machine Learning: This involves training algorithms on data sets to create models that can perform tasks such as making recommendations, identifying patterns, and predicting outcomes.

Deep Learning: A subset of machine learning that uses neural networks with many layers (hence “deep”) to analyze various factors of data.

Natural Language Processing (NLP): This enables machines to understand and respond to human language. TO WRITE YOUR NEXT BOOK?

SURFERS-WAVE DANCERS


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TANNED AND LEAN BARE-CHESTED surfers, taking off their wet-suits and I cross over one in my path.

” Sorry about the mess, ” he says.

” What are you surfers, sidewalk strippers?”

” He chuckled for a minute and looked at me with sea blue eyes and a smile.

I’ve been watching you since I was five years old.”

” Where was that?”

” Santa Monica, Malibu.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for the support.”

” Thanks for the entertainment.”

Back on concrete and the traffic crossing, at a four-way intersection, it is like the running of the bulls. As soon as I step off to the green light for pedestrians, a car on the left almost cuts me off, and the gleam of the cars, as if they were just driven off the lot, I think of my car, when it arrives, will be the dirtiest car in Del Mar.

Several days later, I Ubered into the village to look at a few apartments. The first one, designed in brick and stone, absolutely matched my taste, and was open. A man was sitting at a tiled table in the courtyard.

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“Hi, do you live here?”

” Just moving out.”

” I’ve been trying to reach the Manager. I’m interested in a studio.”

He turned around. ” That’s mine, take a look.”

” Thank you.”

I walked into a room the size of a woman’s mid-sized closet, and the closet was large enough to hold six hangers.”

” I lived here a year and a half; it’s a cool place.”

” Yes, very cool, but too compact for me. Thank you for showing me. You look like a surfer, am I right?”

” I am, that’s why I stayed here, the beach is next door.”

” Second surfer I met today, I really admire your sport.”

” Nice to hear that, it really is.”

I departed and walked a few blocks to the second apartment. The agent, in creased slacks and a plaid shirt, walked me into an apartment about the size of the previous one.

” It’s listed as four hundred square feet. Does that include the bathroom and kitchen?”

” Yes, we have off-street parking and of course, the location, you can’t beat it right?”

” Right, thank you for showing me. I have a few more to look at.”

” I’ll give you an application, he started to the door and recited the amenities, the view the landscape, and the terrific tenants.

” My furnishings and clothes won’t fit, and I am already fully downsized .”

” We have a one-bedroom available.”

” How much is that?”

“Thirty-nine fifty.”

” That’s above my pay grade, but thank you.”

” Good luck,” which sounded more like, no luck at all.

Back to my hotel, and as I passed the valet, he said,

” How’s it going?”

” It’s going, but it’s not taking me along.”

He bent over laughing, not because it was that funny, but he related!

TRAVELING TRUTH & TREES


A passage from Anais Nin’s diary says, โ€œBe careful not to enter the world with any need to seduce, charm, conquer what you do not want, only for the sake of approval. This is what causes the frozen moment before people and cuts all naturalness and trust. The real wonders of life lie in the depths. Exploring the depths for truth is the real wonder which the child and the artist know: magic and power lie in truth.โ€

ย From my journal. Wecannot unlock our mysteries when surrounded by extroverted behavior.ย  Over the years, the intensity of seeking solitude increased; shy in conversation, I turned to writing when I didnโ€™t dare speak. Iโ€™m waiting for some release and joy so I can change course and find a studio (In an undisclosed location for personal reasons). It is not happening. Life feels like a package I cannot unwrap.ย ย ย ย 

That was only two hours ago, and instead of ruminating on impatience, my pattern transformed.  I took a walk in a wind that blew the orange leaves in a choreographed dance, and watched.

ADVENTURES IN LEAVING LIVINGNESS


YES, I AM LEAVING. SIX YEARS LATER. I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE 1 YEAR, BUT WHAT WE PLAN GOES INTO THE CIRCUMSTANCE BLENDER, AND I, MAYBE YOU, COME OUT SHREDDED, UNTIL WE LEARN HOW TO REMIX OUR CONDIMENTS FOR THE FUTURE. The year the village adopted my slogan, Village of Friends

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Six years ago, this week, I left my studio on Devon Ave, a shrink-wrapped space that forged me outdoors. I landed in Ballston Spa, NY, to save my home from foreclosure. I felt a contrast within and without. The without were the winters. Iโ€™d not lived here since 2003, youthful adaptation overwhelmed the bitterness of winter.  The within, my mind, heart, and spirit went through a seasonal transformation. Winters, the snowplowing season when I am on duty to ensure tenants and nieghbors can walk on my sidewalk(owners are reponsible in the village) without breaking a leg and then suing me. Writing is the dominant activity, between, cooking, checking the sump pumps, talking on the phone with friends three thousand miles away, and managing tenants. Once I learned the house was two months behind on the mortgage, turmoil, the servicers bounced me around with false information, misconduct and refused the full balance when I offered. Covid postponed the payments for a year, and so did the New York financial agency. I filed the complaint against PHH, and they pressured PPH to abort the foreclosure for another year. Almost all my income went to restoring the house, replacing mechanical parts, painting, and repairs.

One day in February of 2020, a man knocked on my door and handed me the foreclosure documents. So began six years of legal research, interviewing attorneys, and defending myself against the predator, who sought to destroy my life, every angle of it. I canโ€™t name this person; Iโ€™m in writing witness protection. Seriously.

Itโ€™s Christmas day, and the lobby of the hotel is empty. I think there are seven guests, and most of the cheerful staff are off. The sun broke through, so I’ll wander around the property. It’s 28 degrees, I adapted physically but not emotionally.  

THE LEGEND LADY OF PALACE AVE


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The throw of the dice this week lands on adventures in livingness; one day at a time. People with terminal illness, suffering from a shattered romance, a death of a friend, a natural disaster, always say the same thing; One day at a time.

Walking up Palace Avenue on a day spread with sunlight, and a continuum of power walkers, bikers and runners, passing by in whiffs of urgency, I took my time. I didnโ€™t feel like flexing, just evaporating into the shadows, and the moving clouds. I walked by a little adobe, that once was a dump site for empty bottles, cartons, worn out furniture, and piles of wood. A year later, the yard is almost condominium clean. Just as I was passing the driveway, the little woman whom Iโ€™d seen walking up Palace with her bag of groceries, appeared like a gust of history in the driveway of her adobe casita. She wore her heavy blanket like coat and a bandanna on her head. Regardless of weather, sheโ€™s bundled up in the same woven Indian coat and long wool skirt. I stood next to her, a foot or so taller, and she unraveled history, without my prompting. She told me about the Martinez family, the Montoyas, and the Abeytas, all families she knew, all with streets named after them. Estelle asked me my name, and then took my hand in her weathered unyielding grip, โ€˜Oh I had an Aunt named Lucero, and we called her LouLou.โ€™ She didnโ€™t let go of my hand, and then she told me that the families, some names Iโ€™ve forgotten, bought homes on Palace in 1988 for $50,000, She shook her finger to demonstrate her point. โ€˜You know how many houses the Garcias bought? Five! Then they fixed them up and sold them.โ€™

I could have stood there in the gravel driveway listening to Estelle all afternoon. She owns the oral history I love to record; but it is difficult to understand her, she talks with the speed of a southwest wind. We parted and I thought about the times in my life when the smallest of interactions elevates my spirit. In older people, who are not addicted to gadgets and distant intimacy, I’m reminded of how speed socializing has diminished the opportunity for a sidewalk chat.

ย 

TRAVELING LOVE TO THE END


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The four-letter word that we all seek to survive, Love. The four-letter word that debases love. Obvious. Just as there are limitless expressions and levels of love, how do we know if our way of loving is evident? Mine, I questioned, after my partner of thirty-five years erased me. For years, I drew in my mind diagrams of my actions, my words, and my overall behavior, and I discovered what I had missed. Simply said, self-importance came before his needs. It started in 2006. Funny, I don’t remember the argument, what I remember is the thunderous shouting match. We were in Taos, New Mexico, in the winter, and x is a surfer. We agreed in screams that we were no longer lovers. A few days passed, and we went hiking. We never spoke of it again and remained platonic soulmates until 2016. He chose a woman, and they clicked, except for one non-negotiable demand: I cannot communicate on any device or in person with X. The complication to that arrangement you cannot imagine.

Now, it’s been seven years since I last saw him. Over the first five years, I texted him, first weepy apologies for my part and then brash, harsh rage for abandoning our friendship. We had solid rebellious tendencies, a masterful comedic skit we played out alone or for a group. One time he came out of the bathroom, with mounds of popcorn glued to his face, and he just looked at me, deadpan. Another time, we were sitting at La Posada bar in Santa Fe, New Mexico, and he had his work shirt on. I think it was washed-out linen, and he began shredding and darning the sleeves and neckline, and the bartender and guests stared first, then the laughter. Santa Feans are bohemian, and nothing much shocks them. Outlandish and artistic antics are appreciated.

Many of my friends in those first few years appeased my sorrow, ” He’ll be back, after she spends all his money, that’s when she will stage a breakup.” They are still together, somewhere. He didn’t block my phone; he just never answers. No matter how many times I’m instructed gently and forcefully advised to stop thinking about him. I respond, ” I’m trying, I am, but I’m living in our home with all our possessions, it’s like walking into a theater set of our life, every antique, print, vase, etc, we chose together.

I sold the house, packed up twenty-five years of impulsive collections, the marque of a former nightclub, a handcrafted Roulette table, and a casino chandelier. I can’t go on. Four months later, tonight, I recieved notice that the lawsuit over our home sale has been settled. I am free. If I use what I have learned, how to be totally responsible for my decisions, without x, now I will boogie.

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WRITING TRUTH


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Iโ€™m one of you. ย Adrift, without a direction, waiting on the shore for a wave to break and include us. It is not ho ho ho for us, it is whoa whoa whoa. Iโ€™ve learned my lesson; I will not repeat the dissonance, selfishness, and fear that prevent me from engagement with life. ย My cradle of friends is my family. They want everything to work out. For their patience and comfort, I will not let them down!

How much stronger must I be? Isnโ€™t five years of punishment enough? My smile is feigned, my heart is sliced in two, and my spirit is spoiled. Today, the darkness outside and within shatters what could be a day different. I could be outdoors, and brave the cold, work out in the gym, window shop on a whim, and fill someoneโ€™s frown with smiles.

I have the hours to transform; it is eleven am, but I havenโ€™t slept a night through in a week or more. I live a melodramatic life in my dreams; they are symbolic messages of my vulnerability, fragility, mistakes, and unrealistic expectations.  My former self lived with all I wanted and needed. I woke with enthusiasm, direction, confidence, and exhilaration. I loved and was loved in return. You ask what happened? Betrayal, and then gaslighting,  using callous actions, of destruction, emotionally, psychologically, and financially. What I cherished in him vanished, and a ghostly evil power, within another woman, chained him and locked me out.  

Now I wait for the final curtain to close so that he will be a memory instead of a menace. Almost there, but will that liberation convert my stagnation into stimulation?

Hope,  prayer, discipline, and forgiveness are the weights that build my strength. And of course writing. If I didnโ€™t have this way of expression, I couldnโ€™t have made it this far. My writing is my wand of magic, for me and I hope for you out there.  Iโ€™m one of you, an outsider, an introverted extrovert, a dreamer, a risk taker, and at the starting gate of my triple crown. To be continued.

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ON THE HOTEL ROAD WITH MOTHER NATURE & MANUSCRIPT


ย Winter announced! First ladylike snow because I can still wear my loafers and jeans.ย 

I say this as politely as possible: Government stay away from my Genie. The annoyance of conflicting orders robs me of my Aladdin (magic moments). Mental sedation is needed while I edit my next book. I’ve been advised to delete 40,000 words from the 141,780 manuscript. Over three days I deleted 2300 words. My new friend Rose, says, ‘Chop chop, you can do it!” ย 

I feel like time is stained with interior stoplights, obstructions, and restrictions, within and without. ย  What happens is subtle, but when so much time is spent on soulless activities, life loses its Aladdin.ย  Even if youโ€™re sitting on the beach at Turk and Caicos, dining al fresco with perfectly agreeable friends, and swirling in jets of aromatic succulents, I think our souls ache for simple genuine, honesty. ย 

ON THE HOTEL ROAD OF TRAVEL THOUGHTS


The course we choose to study doesnโ€™t begin in school; it begins the moment we recognize that life is our teacher.  I chose the course of love between a man and a woman.  Yet all Iโ€™ve learned from Anais NinJoan Didion, and Lawrence Durrell about love isnโ€™t guiding me.  I have to start over and develop wisdom from my own experiences.

I checked into the third hotel, the previous one was tedious and murky. This morning in a larger room, on a crisp as iceberg lettuce, a day of clarity and stillness surrounds me. Outside my hotel room, the light is intermittent, a peak a boo stage window, the light illuminates portions of the crispy autumn leaves just before they drop. On my side of the glass, there are shadows and dissonance.ย  ย What events take place this week will be instrumental in my future and as piercing as the southwest sun when it shone in my eyes. ย ย 

This hotel’s staff is exceptionally friendly, conversant, and engaged in their jobs. Every time I pass by the guest check-in, Rose stops what sheโ€™s doing.

โ€œ Howโ€™s it going?โ€

โ€œToo early to tell.โ€ Iโ€™ve been here a week, and I unzipped my lawsuit story, so she is in the know. She is knowledgeable about the law, and living through times that are more threatening than usual.  

โ€œ Okay. What are you doing today?โ€™

โ€œ Researching moving companies. Critical thinking and planning. When I moved from Santa Fe to Los Angeles, I hired a broker, thinking it was the actual company. When the van arrived, half of my things were broken, boxes were opened, and some were stolen. So this time, no mistakes.  

โ€œ Mistakes are all about learning.โ€

โ€œ Yes, and I learned!โ€

โ€œ What did you do last night?โ€ She said with a curious smile.

โ€œ I was at the bar, Lizzie was there rousing all of us up with puzzles, a brouhaha like the old days, you know, not one of us looked at our phones.โ€

โ€œ Please, donโ€™t even start. So annoying when youโ€™re talking to someone and they are staring down at their phones.โ€

โ€œ When I was living in LA, at huge four-way intersections in the middle of traffic, pedestrians crossed without even looking up. It was the same everywhere, restaurants, shops, it struck me as a way of looking very significant.โ€

โ€œ Youโ€™re so right!โ€

โ€œ That reminds me, I need to go write a column.โ€

โ€œ Write about your lawsuit.โ€

โ€œ No! Iโ€™m in witness protection writing.โ€

โ€œ They may read it right?โ€

โ€œ You New Yorkers are always on the right key.โ€

โ€œ Gotta be, itโ€™s New York.โ€

” I’m California”.

” That’s okay, I still love you, and your day is coming, and so is a new man.”

DEATH AND LIBERATION COLLIDE


                              

It was her widespread, unrestrained, and contagious smile that I see when I think of her. Her expressive hand gestures seemed like separate limbs from her straight, head-held-high posture. Frankness, unpreparedness, and ebullience made her the embodiment of who I wish I were. 

I was on the phone with a friend when the news alert filled the screen, and a photo of her signature smile. 

โ€œ Oh my God!โ€

โ€œWhat?โ€ he asked.

In a voice trembling with shock, I replied, โ€œDiane Keaton died.โ€

โ€œ Whoa, how old was she?โ€

โ€œ Seventy-nine. She was the only contemporary actress I related to. I watched Baby Boom last week, so Keaton. It was like watching me if I had the same experiences. โ€œ

โ€œ She  was great in  The Godfather, not a lot of people would agree with that, but thatโ€™s my opinion.โ€

โ€œ I never thought of that. I watch it once a year. She was in an interview years ago, and the host asked,โ€ Why didnโ€™t you ever get married?โ€

With her arms opening like a double door, she exclaimed, โ€œ No one ever asked me!โ€

Her last post on Instagram is worth reading.โ€  

And in the same weekend, I think of this. We canโ€™t feel another personโ€™s sickness, or what itโ€™s like to sing if we donโ€™t sing, or fly like a pilot unless we’ve been one. We cannot imagine what it is like to be a hostage of Hamas.

I wandered about yesterday, in the gym, the veranda, and the lobby, and later, had appetizers in the restaurant. Two flat screens, football, the rest couples except the man next to me. I couldnโ€™t help but notice that he was three inches from me at the bar. A shrimp cocktail showed up, he ate voraciously, then a steak and a large flat potato sort of tortilla, a side of vegetables, and he ate enthusiastically, then a lobster plate, with more vegetables, and he ate, and then dessert. I left before it arrived, so I wouldnโ€™t swipe it from him.ย 

I wanted to say to someone, “The hostages are coming home!” ย I didnโ€™t. Diane Keaton would have! She lived with squamous cell cancer or many years. That explains the hats and turtlenecks.

FREESTYLING SINGLE


         THE GYPSY CHRONICLES – Day 10.

Scintillating in luxury and comfort is therapeutic if mastered with moderation. So, my second week here in the hotel, I opened the thruway to discerning tasks: a deep dive into publishing my book, rewriting the ending so art isnโ€™t imitating life, but the other way around, searching for part-time employment, a seriously pragmatic approach to where to move, and writing my pop-up columns. 

It is tremendously easy to write from this hotel room, without those damn barking dogs next to my home, the constant vibration and noise of mowers, blowers,  and city works.

On my desk is Henry Millerโ€™s book, On Writing, and every page moves the mental nerves in some way.  โ€œThe writer lives between the upper and lower worlds: he takes the path in order eventually to become the path itself.โ€  From living in isolation in my home, my tenants are cordial but reserved; I am now swept like a surfboard into a wave of public swells.  It is their stories that come out of this experience.

I begin with the Casino, attached to the hotel lobby, and open at 11 am. Arrivals begin: gamblers shuffle inside, some in wheelchairs, younger men with speedy strides, couples, single women, a plethora of humanity in common, with one mission: to win. I take a seat at the bar, and eye wonder at the slot machines. I havenโ€™t counted them, but the room for walking is limited.  There is one machine with the motif of a bull, and when someone sits, the bull grumbles loudly, so I pull out my earplugs.  I watched one man win, and after he left, other players who heard the winning clang took his seat. It is a popular machine.

The casino looks to be around eight thousand square feet, with seventeen hundred gambling options.  The path to get back to the hotel, I have to navigate around and around. The first time, of course, I went in circles as my sense of direction is like a butterfly’s. 

โ€œ Excuse me, can you tell me the most direct way back to the hotel?โ€

โ€œ Lost are you? Follow this carpet pattern, the one in the middle, and it will take you back.โ€

Off I trot, staring at the paisley pattern, through six different arenas to the hotel. I went outside and took a seat on the bench.  A woman passed by and stopped, โ€œ How are you?โ€™

โ€œAdapting, Iโ€™ve not been here but a few days.โ€

โ€œ Oh, weโ€™re just checking out. I canโ€™t wait to get home to my Pomeranians. I have two. I rescued them, and they are my babies,” she continued, talking about the dogs. As she spoke, I noticed how immensely liberated she was in conversation, and how her hair matched her outfit. She smiled while talking.

โ€œ Iโ€™ve seen you before. I noticed your style; you were wearing such a pretty outfit”, she said earnestly.

โ€œ Well, thank you, and so are you.โ€

โ€œ Are you alone? I think you are, but donโ€™t let that get you down.โ€

โ€œ I wasnโ€™t ready for a very long time. I’m crossing over that mountain, only Iโ€™m not like you. I canโ€™t approach people the way you just did.โ€

โ€œ I used to be like that! Now I donโ€™t care, and you shouldnโ€™t either. God loves you, we are all his children, and we need to love each other.โ€

I let her go on and thought any minute she might bring out a bible or a cross and start praying for me.

โ€œ I bet my husband is looking for me; heโ€™ll be mad, not really, heโ€™s used to it. Weโ€™ve been together forty-five years.

โ€œ Remarkable. Whatโ€™s your secret?โ€  

โ€œ Love, respect, and compromise, itโ€™s really very simple. You’ll meet your honey, I feel it, you want that, donโ€™t you?โ€

โ€œYes, when a man tells me everything is going to be okay, I settle down. Iโ€™m emotionally overweight.โ€

โ€œYouโ€™re funny, see that is another quality that gets you through life.โ€

โ€œ I see a man approaching, and she introduces her husband. He is tall, and emulates a calmness and contentment as he hedges into the conversation about going to Lake Placid.โ€ย 

โ€œ Have you been there?โ€ he asked.

โ€œ Years ago. Itโ€™s beautiful.โ€

โ€œ  I turned towards his wife. I didnโ€™t get your name.โ€

โ€œ Donetica, Italian, my friends call me Dee.โ€

โ€œI’m Loulou, and thank you for stopping by my bench.โ€

She giggled, blew a kiss, and said in parting, โ€œ I love you.โ€

 As she left, a woman exited the hotel in a state of exhilaration.

โ€œ It looks like you had a good day,โ€ I said

โ€œ Yes!ย  I won eight hundred dollars. She swung her purse and skipped off. ย 

Hmm, I wouldnโ€™t mind winning at all, but Iโ€™m in enough ambiguity to play against those odds.  To be continued.

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    FROM ORDINARY TO EXTRAORDINARY


    With every turn, right, left, or center, I observe novelty, unfamiliar faces, facades, and finery.ย  The conversations that linger over the opulent surround sound lobby release a fusion of shouting and laughter.ย  New Yorkers are not whisperers, and my annoying sensitivity to sound, forces me to go in and outside a dozen times a day. That is when I meet the guests, perched on benches and rocking chairs. In the six days Iโ€™ve been, here Iโ€™ve accumulated dozens of conversations, not just niceties but life stories expressed in thirty-minutes.

    The first day of arrival began with a dining hallabaloo organized by the best broker, Scott Varley, who sold my home. ย ย At the table, Scott and his friends, who ย knew the bartender’s, waitress, restaurant manager, and a few guests at the bar, so our table became a Musso Frank sort of mise en scene. I, as usual, was punctuated with awe, as this is a new kind of adventure in livingness after Ballston Spa. Drinks arrived with the speed of a remote, and as we all filed in for the liberated moment, when we exhumed our true selves.ย  Lynn, the woman next to me, was a beautiful, statuesque, stylish woman whose poised and confident aura emanated from her.

    โ€œ I hear Scott sold your home. Is that a good thing for you? Itโ€™s not always.โ€

    โ€œ Yes, a few days ago. ย Well, a paradox, I loved the home, a Victorian, but it was also most of my income.

    โ€œ What will you do now?โ€

    โ€œ About what?โ€ย She laughed and tilted her head back.

    โ€œ Where are you moving?โ€

    โ€œ I donโ€™t know yet.โ€ Her eyes widened, and she responded flatly.

    โ€œ You donโ€™t know? You have to have some idea.โ€

    โ€œ It depends on the proceeds, an ex is involved, itโ€™s too complicated over a martini, and all this talk. I can barely hear you. โ€œ

    โ€œ An ex is always involved. How long are you staying at the hotel?โ€

    โ€œ Youโ€™ll love this..

    โ€œ Donโ€™t tell me, you donโ€™t know. Youโ€™re adorable.โ€

    โ€œ Thank you, and I sense you are very strong.โ€

    โ€œ You bet I am.! She punctuated that with a fist to the table. โ€œ

    The night zigzagged, with Lynn and Scott scurrying into the casino, while I remained, as casinos mean, the genes of my father may flare up. The bar was baritone loud and after what seemed four hours, I returned to my room, quite comfort, marvelous pillows unlike Iโ€™ve ever felt, ย โ€œ I canโ€™t fucking believe this.โ€ ย ย To be continued