What's the Story, Morning Glory?

When my parents lived on Bleecker Street some 20 or 25 or 30 years ago, I threw a party. To be honest, I threw more than one, but moments ago when I was in the elevator descending to the basement to dispose of compost (yeah, I’m *that* guy) I remembered the evening in particular where B said to me, “Your thing is you’re the professor’s daughter.”

(Photo from several summers ago on the dog beach at Mudge Pond in Lakeville, CT)

And then I thought of the job application I submitted this morning to a position as a communications manager for an arts foundation. Then, I thought of the application I submitted yesterday afternoon to be the editor of a newsletter related to the work of civil engagement. Then, I thought of the slew of letters I submitted for jobs last week–including to be a clerk at my local independent bookstore (no response as of yet).

I live on the fifth floor of a six-floor building and given my brisk pace of thought succession relative to the lift’s moderate speed, I have the potential to cycle through a bursting galaxy of ideas each time I travel up or down. So, then I considered my recently revamped CV with its new and bold statement of purpose at the tippy-top and the precis about myself which headlines my LinkedIn page. Then I jumped–in my imagination–to the profile description on this here Substack, which I edited just this morning.

Has there ever been a time in human history when a person has been asked to sum up themselves and tell their “story” but briefly! no more than 75 words! as we are now asked to do? Is this a cultural byproduct of centuries of capitalism? Is it the cumulative influence of millennia of literature? Has it resulted from decades of ID cards which give our name and photo? Is there a universe in which we don’t have to have such story-like calling cards to describe ourselves or to sell ourselves, or both?

Many of the job listings I see, particularly on LinkedIn, are for “storytellers” and the companies hiring tend toward law firms or AI/tech companies. I wonder: what “story” is there to tell about LLMs and bots? I marvel: how demeaning to actual storytellers, to use that locution in reference to the artificial intelligence industry.

Ah, look B, the professor’s daughter indeed!

Speaking of which: I just remembered a dream from last night in which my dad was still alive and upset about something. “I’m pissed!” he hissed, which if you’d ever met Alfred irl you’d know he would never ever say such a thing, and when we children used that phrase or the equally unacceptable “that sucks,” we’d be promptly admonished for vulgarity.