In A Darkroom

From certain blogs of mine, one may arrive at the correct perception that I believe myself to be secretly very important in relation to Spielberg, McCartney, and others of great renown, and that in connection with this, I have been singled out by one or more monstrous group as one to obsessively focus on, and to incorporate in some way into their horrendous acts of violence. I point to my blog of March 13th regarding the deaths of Princess Diana and the Duchess of York, my follow-up blog of March 23rd regarding the recent death of Natasha Richardson, the wife of the star of Spielberg's current movie project, and another follow-up blog of March 30th. I also point to my immediately previous blog of April 30th regarding the death of the son of President Kennedy. In various other places I've referred to what I believe also ties the first bombing of the World Trade Center in 1993 to people who found a way to "leave things on my doorstep". Additionally, I've also referred in other places to various other things I regard as belonging in this category of clues regarding horrible things "left on my doorstep".

I furthermore have pointed out the idea that, to crack one of these cases, one could accomplish the multi-purposed task of cracking all of these cases. And that I see the chief obstacle to a proper investigation as being the very fact that my great importance is secret for the most part: Because without the acceptance of that part of the equation, why would they choose me as the person on whose doorstep to leave things? Therefore, why investigate on the basis of my saying things have been left on my doorstep?

I now add another event that I consider to be part of the same category as the above-referenced, with the hope that someone in a position to properly investigate sees in this an opportunity to crack a number of important cases all at once ("important cases" being an understatement when the history of all is concerned). This event that I am about to describe, though it is not in itself the kind of thing one will likely feel great concern over (in fact, it might even seem absurd to feel great concern), yet could prove worthy of great attention owing to the reasons I've described.

The Death of Georgia O'Keeffe
In 1986 I took a train from New York City to Hartford, Connecticut, where my sister, Judith, and her then-boyfriend (now husband), Donald, were living at the time. As my sister had once received special thanks in a book about famous photographer Alfred Stieglitz for contributing research, I brought with me as a house gift on this rare visit a large book of Stieglitz's photographs.

On the day that I rode the train to Hartford with the Stieglitz book, the 98-year old widow of Stieglitz, famous painter Georgia O'Keeffe, passed away.

I do not disagree that 98 years is a ripe old age, nor do I deny that coincidence and happenstance are a part of life. However, given the types of things that have happened to me of quite a different variety where high profile deaths are concerned, many of which I have not yet described, I consider there to be a potential significance here that has most likely gone uninvestigated. Again, the value of such an investigation would reside more in the possibility that it would lead to those connected to perpetrators of far more serious crimes, than in the injustice of a 98-year old being cheated out of all the years due her.