Walking downtown today with Heather. Suddenly there's this kid on my left.

"Hey, you like music?"

Great. Another sidewalk scam. I bet no one ever says no, I think.

"No."

"Oh, c'mon," says the kid. "What kinda music do you like?"

"Why?" After 10 years in San Francisco, I've developed a thick skin.

"I've made this CD," he says. It's self-produced, burned at home, wrapped in a Xeroxed piece of paper. On the back, above the track listing, is a photo of him, his arm stretched out to the side. I can tell he took it of himself. He says his music is like Massive Attack with some Nine Inch Nails mixed in.

"How much?" I say.

"Anywhere between three and ten," he says.

I hand him a ten and ask if I can take a picture of him with it.

"That picture's gonna be worth a lot someday," he says as I click the shutter.

Listening to it at home now, I've gotta say, it ain't half bad. If you ever bump into a kid named Bliss with a CD in his hand, pick it up. It's gonna be worth a lot someday.

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