Ritchy Flo

Every morning I look for the sun’s vibrant yellow/ orange color to set my mood but it was absent on this particular Wednesday afternoon. Every once in a while the absence would affect my mood but not on this today. I was content with the level of happiness that prevented me to overthink about any present issues. “Carpe Diem” is what I whispered to myself as I was driving down Ft Worth Dr in Denton. It was the biggest nuance to squeeze my truck down the heavily constructed road with makeshift lanes that was able to provoke a mild anxiety attack for those who weren’t comfortable driving in the semi-hazardous road conditions. Slowed but not chopped rap music, Playboi Carti to be exact, filled the inside of the crew cab with the 808 bass that wasn’t properly EQ’d but was accepted nonetheless. In my opinion, Soundcloud was one of the few music applications that presented the ugly side of file compression and attracted amateur mixing and mastering skills on songs. Silverish blue skies engulfed North Texas and the bare naked trees appeared to be shivering against the January winds. After one left turn and an immediate right turn, I parked in what appeared to be a cul de sac with adjacent apartment buildings that sat roughly 30 feet behind the sidewalk. According to the address and the direction that I was facing, I assumed that I was parked in from the correct building. Upon arrival, I noticed a woman pacing back and forth in front of a row of apartment doors. I made the quick assumption that she lived on the bottom floor. The noticeable features besides the steady movement of her long legs was the hot pink streaks that presented a bit of character in her jet black hair. The woman, who I figured would be in the 25-32 age range held her cellphone against her right ear, exposing her pale skin to the natural light, only when she paced south. A text message and a few moments later, one of the first-floor red doors that was the closest to the driveway leading to the back of the apartment complex, flung open and out came Ritchy Flo. His long stride was accompanied by his difficulty in simultaneously adjusting his backpack straps that accentuated his natural slouch. The wind danced in between strands of his naturally beautiful and curly hair. Chubby yet solid build with a bit of bounce in his stride, he wore a childlike smile that served as the window to his creativity and imagination, outlined by his dark mustache. As he pulled the passenger door open, I was greeted with a warm gesture that is felt between two associates who haven’t seen each other in a while.

As I ponder, I was experiencing a difficult time remembering the first time I encountered Ritchy Flo, or even the last time I seen him for that matter. Although I am to blame for the memory loss, a lot of time has passed, including the entire year of 2020. What I do remember is every time I was casually ran into Ritchy, it was in the midst of festivities, whether it was a live music event or amongst mutual friends in an social environment. It is his pleasant aura and his skill level in producing hip hop beats that always attracted me to him. His level of expertise in that field of artistry is impressive to me. It’s something that is difficult to forget. His level of intelligence, creativity and the warmth of his presence stayed the same the few times we shared a room together. It’s not something that can be replicated, it’s pure, it’s Ritchy.

We decided to head half a mile of so from his home to Eureka Park for a photoshoot, a basic Texas park with the usual amenities such as a huge playground for kids, a pavillion, a two and half mile trail behind amenities that ends up facing Teasley Lane, etc. Only a few cars and a patrol SUV were presented as we parked to find a location or two to take some photos for the articles. Through the eyes of a regular civilian, there was nothing picture perfect for a photoshoot; a massive amount of open land with trees that suffered a severe lack of leaves due to the current climate. To us, we were able to find various spots that corresponded with our vision. That’s the beauty of imagination; being able to look at a blank canvas and create something from nothing. The wind chill bothered me a little but it didn’t seem to move Ritchy much. I only assumed it was due to my slim frame that made it easier for the cold to penetrate through my layers of flesh and set a vice grip on my bones. Nonetheless, I was able to capture great shots of Ritchy in various parts of the small area we used for the shoot. It wasn’t long before we decided that enough was enough and head to another location.

I came to the sudden realization that I was able to adjust the driver’s seat in more than three ways as we were traveling eastbound on Teasley Lane, about a mile and a half away from the I-35 intersection. Ritchy’s voice allowed a tad of an enthusiastic undertone as he described an art sculpture that he wanted to shoot photos with before we headed to the laundry that shared the same building with a local pizza place. Curiosity began to fill my mind but it quickly ceased with positivity and pride when thinking about how the pizza place was able to survive through the uncertainty of yesteryear. The particular art sculpture Ritchy mentioned was located just behind the train tracks used by DCTA train station, located across the street from the Denton Municipal Court, and shared the same parking lot with the popular vegan restaurant, Spiral. I wasn’t familiar with the material that the sculpture is made of so my assumption leads me to believe that it was iron but lack of knowledge challenged me and caused me to take a second guess: steel. The sculpture was cool to look at, but to me, it held bland characteristics that quickly lost my interest. If I were to give a brief description of it, I would say it is a giant sphere with a hole in it at the top center of the sculpture. We ended up shooting a handful of photos at this location before we headed to our next destination.

The craving for cheese pizza occupied my salivary glands as I back into the parking space on the west wall of Romano’s. On any other day, I would’ve ignored the amount of discipline I acquired over the past year and purchased a large cheese pizza but it was the discipline that prevented me to give in. As Ritchy and I walked up to the door of the laundromat, we were met with discouragement. The laundromat is small in comparison to other local laundromats but that wasn’t the issue; considering the size of the laundromat, there were enough people inside to interrupt a photoshoot, even if we had very limited time to shoot. Not even a minute went by before we made the decision to leave.

Ritchy casually presented the opportunity of recording a podcast and my inner child erupted with excitement. For the past five months, I pondered where I would be able to record a podcast in a space with the right equipment to produce good sound quality. He proceeded to tell me that our next stop would be at the home of Keldrick Scott, the owner of Denton’s own Gitmo Records. Fortunately, it’s half of a mile down the street from the laundromat, a decent brisk walk for the average pedestrian. It became imperative to visit a nearby gas station to grab some snacks and a pack of Swishers.

Nothing special about this gas station stood out enough for me to hold a memory. No special characteristic, new employees every few months, recent remodeling, and a decent paint job for a slight modern appeal. It serves its purpose as a convenient gas station in the middle of a neighborhood for the mere convenience of the residency that sits behind it. Without the blinding afternoon light pouring inside from the light traffic of customers, the gas station maintained the same dim lighting that’s stereotypically dim enough to brush the shadows. Two Latina women occupied the space behind the counter for the employees only. Unbeknownst to me, Ritchy had the idea of disguising his voice behind a terrible imitation of a British accent. He began asking one of the Latina women for the price of two taquitos. At that very moment, I was faced with a tough decision: should I burst out in an uncontrollable laughing tantrum or maintain my composure. A bit of confusion appeared on the woman’s face as Ritchy continued to speak, ultimately that is what helped me keep a cool demeanor as if his accent was nothing less than normal. A small conversation ensued between Ritchy and the women; Ritchy didn’t break character nor came close to breaking character. I was having a difficult time suppressing laughter; it forced me to not maintain eye contact for the sake of the situation. As soon as we made our exit, I let all the laughter go. It was insanely hilarious to me that Ritchy was able to maintain his pseudo-British accent for the entire time we occupied the gas station without blowing his cover.

Moments later, we arrive at our final destination at the end of another cul de sac. Although the location is extremely close to where I reside, I have difficulty remembering how to get there. It’s equivalent to going through a labyrinth, with middle-class homes on each side guiding me through the twist and turns of the smooth gravel gliding under the tires. After hopping out of the truck and exchanging words with a friendly neighbor, we stepped into what seems to be a bachelor pad with a small studio, 12 feet ahead of me to my left. The place is perfectly set up for a single, musically creative adult. Space wasn’t too big nor too small. With no exaggeration necessary, it’s the perfect size for one person, maybe two who share the same goal, to co-habit and move easily without trouble. Around this time, the riot at the Capitol was taking place in real-time. Live footage was broadcasted on every major news outlet: CNN, MSNBC, etc. Keldrick is a man of political opinion and throughout our stay, he adamantly shared his opinion with conviction. After the end of a herbal session, we entered the studio room to begin the podcast. At the time, the studio was in its ugly stage of remodeling but I was able to see which direction of aesthetic it was headed. An hour and half passed by, we ended the podcast and made our exit to check out more obscenities of the riot. More time passed by and it was time for me to enjoy the comfort of my bed and endless snack time. Moments later, I said my goodbyes and from the exit of the house to entering the truck was the walk of a satisfied and hungry creative. Enjoy the podcast by clicking the link below.