I’ve been curious about the title of Spencer Susser’s short, its genesis. Wonder if it comes from the old blues song called “Make me a pallet on your floor” (there’s a Buddy Bolden version of this song ringing out through the ether; at least, that’s what Rob would say — that our voices vibrate out towards the stars; not so indelible as the “voyager golden record” maybe, but tiny traces of us still, a resonance). The following is a transliteration of the 1911 version set down in “Mama Yancey and the Revival Blues Tradition.”
Make me a pallet on the floor,
Make it in the kitchen behind the door.
Oh, don’t turn a good man from your door,
May be a friend, babe, you don’t know.
Oh, look down that lonesome lane,
Made me a pallet on the floor
Oh, the reason I love Sarah Jane,
Made me a pallet on the floor.