I was up before dawn one morning during the 1998 San Diego Comic Con. I went for a stroll in the Gaslight District and met a fellow named Joey, who had dozens of little paintings spread out on the sidewalk in front of him. He was deep in a riff, so when I asked him if I could buy one, it took me awhile to realize that every third sentence he sang was directed to me. Joey said his work sold for $5000, but for me $5 would be OK. Deal! He even wrote me a poem on the back:

Molly Memory Moment My Misforgotten Moonlight Madness Me -- Joey

. . . and serenaded me as I continued down the street.

Later, I thought $5 wasn't enough, so I went back to give him a 20, but he had packed up.

Next time.