It’s Saturday night. I’m not happy, but thankfully I’m not sad either. I rock this space lately I call limbo. So let’s call it that.  I walk in limbo from my car to the entrance of Spokeasy with my head down. I sit towards the back of the room. I wait for shop girl Melanie to finish behind the bar. She and her husband make working with people you love look easy. I wait for K. Pizzle to meet me. Rick Clarke walks in. I notice this instantly because his presence easily fills the room. It’s crowded and loud, but he still manages to see me.  Once he does he points and heads over.  He says he was just in Portland. He says he has a gift for me. I’m surprised by this, but I love presents so I perk up.

At some point he slips out of the bar. When he returns he has two books with him. He places them on the table in front of me. He tells me to notice that both artists have the letter g in common. He calls me a Griot. He tells me the foreword in book one is about grandmothers. He asks if I notice the thread. He suggests that he does not wish to pressure me into creating something based around all these things, but only hopes they inspire. I can’t talk. Too touched by the moment.  Later that night. I walk to my car. I keep my head up. -dm