i remember how we met last year, a hopeful time for us, our mutual friend turned me on to your work. we were closer than friends really and had never been acquainted. up late the night before i read what you wrote then drove, me and my guy, down to alameda to see daniela, her daughter and you. memories of life in oakland flooding through me. the party was great though a little too much. you were tired from traveling the world and camped out in a big chair, anyways, and i came and sat down by all of you where we exchanged smiles and made eyes. the music and laughter and smoke. of course your words, the ones you wrote, i thanked you for them. this is how it can be with us writers.