When You Talk to a Writer

Someone is Listening

When you sit down next to a writer and have a conversation,

you suddenly become their co-writer.

They can use anything you say.

Strangers get a side of me that is uncensored.

I have no filters when talking to someone I may never see again.

I was in front of my Co-Working Space in downtown Oakland. There was a woman ordering coffee who looked curious about the gathering inside. The first point of contact was I was pretending to be the doorman, only in reverse. Instead of checking IDs, I was encouraging people to come right in, like a party recruiter.

“You're a people collector,” she said.

This was the first time I had heard the phrase.

I was aware that I was a connector and a hustler,

but she said I was someone who made eye contact

and engaged a stranger to connect, and have a conversation.

The barista messed up her coffee order,

and I said I would take the one she didn't want.

“There's plenty of food inside,” I said.

She thought about it and eventually joined the party. 

The food was better than at most weddings:

oxtails, plantains, and an open juice bar.

The DJ was mixing afrobeat with neo-soul, and

beautiful women were everywhere.

I found myself dancing to the music with four

women at once—she among them

Then, she needed more coffee.

We walked down the street to another cafe that was still open.

Meeting someone in a group is different from being alone with them.

All of a sudden, the jokes stop and questions become more serious.

"'Are you biracial?” she asked. "'Do you want children?”

I didn't have a yes answer to either question.

We walked back to the party but stayed outside.

I confessed that I have always been more comfortable in the presence of women,

in particular, Black women, with whom I connect with on a spiritual level—

the Black/Jewish connection. 

For me this life is but a dream within a dream, and meeting a Black woman in this reality is a connection with God. 

She had an ongoing joke about sending me an NDA (non-disclosure agreement).

She didn't like the idea of someone taking her ideas.

The next day, she sent over the contract.

Something about seeing my name on an official five-page document was too much for me. I never signed it. What were we discussing that we needed to keep private? 

I don’t know. 

Moments like this get written down.

Some write them in a journal, but others put them out there into the world.

This is a practice of documenting moments,

introductions and interactions with strangers and loved ones. 

It takes only one conversation to realize

someone was listening.

I was in Downtown Berkeley for the Bay Book Fair this weekend, where I met the newest folks on this list. I didn’t get there on Sunday when it was more of a festival. Did you go and get any names of publishers/agents? Any leads are appreciated, still on the chase, one case at a time.