Let’s talk about something dirty.

23.Jun.24.

Greetings, friend! I want to tell you something. I’m a little worried though. I might need to run away after you hear. What I want to say could make you look at me the way the Haves regard the have-nots. Yes, I’m aware that not all Haves behave this way.

Enough of my waffling. I want to talk about business and money.

I once read that it’s crude to discuss this. I also know that creative people dread doing business even though they need moolah. Can you believe that? Like everyone else, writers, artists, musicians…all creative people…require money to survive. Isn’t that weird? Creatives aren’t epiphytes.

Ugh! Why am I bringing up this filthy thing?

Blame it on the sax! A few nights ago, I heard soca-saxophone busting out like leggo beast from YouTube. Ohhh, de music make I gyrate right back to a party, one evening, less than a decade ago, in a shaded garden near the warm Atlantic shore.

It was a low-simmering, not crowded but good-size jollification for M., the Russian man. Everyone looked hot and cool, know what I mean, foreign nationalities and locals mingling and making jokes. We nibbled blini thin as paper, creamed this and creamed that and smoked salmon. There was meat, but I don’t consume so I can’t really tell what was there.

The music was wicked, yeah! That lean chap with the almost-fro was rolling out fury and seduction from his sax like gangsta and sweet-man.

“Aaaah, man, I love the way you play,” I told him when his set was over. We jumped into a hearty discourse about the arts and, before you know, we were deep into a bitter gyaff about the plight of creatives in our lovely native land.

“I hope people hire you to play for weddings and all types of functions!” I gushed.

“Everybody wants me to play for free. The exposure will be good for you, they tell me,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

I sucked my teeth in disgust at the gall of those people.

“I should take my wallet to the cashier at the supermarket and tell them, Exposure will pay,” he said. He held out his hands, opened his empty imaginary wallet and showed it to imaginary them.

I cracked up laughing when I remembered this the other night. Harsh Truth heard me, dropped its heavy palm over my mouth, shut up my laughter good an’ proper. Ohhh yes, I’m supposed to pay with exposure too. I’m supposed to survive financial loss with exposure (thank you foreign company that’s left scores of citizens bereft).

Harsh Truth must’ve recognised my plight and softened up a bit. People love things, it whispered to me. And they need help. Teach them whilst selling things. Also, sell word-skills to those who, no matter how heavily they rely on AI, still need assistance. Brain work and originality will always be vital. Work on it every Monday. On the other days, do your creative work.

I’ve agreed to give it a go. Nothing beats a failure but a try, eh? Look at sax man! Running with another passion, hunting down unruly bee hives for frightened citizens, and selling honey. I like to imagine he does play soft-buzzin’ sax fo’ them bees, and seduce them to ooze honey for he.

So, dear friend, if you’re not cringing yet, and you’re curious and want to know when I will get this small business up and running - it’s almost there.

Let the good times roll.

In the meantime, I hope the rain eases up, I want to putter around in the garden without getting too muddy.

See you the Sunday after next. Remember to take good care of you! Eat nice food, dance up li’l bit, luuuve, neena.