So I run into Myg, or rather he picks me up.  Lunchtime is Pho time at a joint on Powell Blvd,  the kind that you have to be local to know about.   The waiter, in matching jean jacket, and jeans (?!?) knows him by name, as do a lone skater sitting by himself enjoying Pho.  A couple of other homies run in to give daps, simply because they saw his wrapped van,  heavy with miles as he is literally fresh off tour with Talib Kweli.     I say this because Myg is creating a musical legacy deep within this town, while traveling to Mars- never an easy task.