2:35 p.m. - 2006-04-11
the posterer
Today I spent a little while putting up posters for our tax day Active Percussion Duo blow-out. Not that I think putting up posters necessarily brings in more people, but Kia made the posters and did a really good job so I wanted a few people to at least see them. They feature a color photo with a polychromatic bunch of mallets poking out of a metal cylinder. In the background are the blue curtains in our living room, which match the blue mallets, and our pink living room rug, which sort of matches the pink mallets. Then there's some text explaining the event, with various information regarding when and where to go, etc. All in all, a really nice poster. Most of the posters are on regular paper, but one is on special SHINY paper, and I decided we should keep that one. For, you know, posterity.
I only hit a few key spots. In general it's not worth hitting the many campus and east side street kiosks, since your posters will be covered up almost immediately by some oily promoter-type, all of whom as far as I can tell pretty much poster full time. (BTW, did you know The Strokes are coming to town?) (I don't know anything about The Strokes, but now, thanks to someone's marketing efforts, I have the name "The Strokes" lodged in my brain, where it probably pushed out some piece of information that may have been meaningful. This is what I'm trying to do to other people when I put posters up. This is how I exact my revenge on society.) Although, I did put one on the kiosk in front of the co-op, as there's a lot of foot and bike traffic there and it might be a show that some co-op guy or gal might like if they knew about it. Over the next four days, I'll be watching that kiosk like a hawk; if anything covers my poster it's coming down. That's how I roll, oh yeah.
Other spots I hit included the liquor store by the co-op, where they were very accomodating and in fact lent me some tape, and a couple of spots in the Humanities Building. The Humanities Building was well-served by the addition of our colorful posters, drab and horrible as it is inside. I put up a couple in a stairwell and one in the hallway of the sixth floor, where they teach art. I didn't bother with the music school floors, because music school people never ever go to any of my shows. And do we really want to encourage them to leave the music school anyway? They could become terribly overstimulated, and who knows what might happen?
There's a new postering GOLDMINE on State St.: the outside windows of the big storefront that used to be some kind of college convenience store. High visibility, plenty of unpostered room, and no apparent oversight. The only downside is that the SPIRGs hang out nearby. The great thing about the SPIRGs is how they try to guilt you even before they stop you and hit you up for money. "Do you have a minute for the environment?" they ask, with cordial and well-scrubbed faces, as if they have no inkling of what a loaded question it is. If you don't have a minute for the environment, you're some kind of apathetic monster who probably can't wait to get in his Hummer and run over some squirrels. If it turns out that you do have a minute, you're expected to spend that minute giving your credit card numbers to the SPIRG. I speak from experience: one time when I had a minute (for the environment, you understand) and chatted with the bright, articulate young SPIRG, I asked if I could go home, do some research and maybe send them a check were I able and willing to help support the SPIRGs financially. It turned out that, no, I couldn't do that, I had to give him credit card or checking account numbers right there on the sidewalk, people sending checks create unnecessary administrative costs, they had to have my money now, NOW, NOW, I TELL YOU! He didn't quite grab my ankles and and shake me upside-down a bunch of times to make all the money fall out my pockets, but he was getting close to that point before I walked away resolved never again to acknowledge a SPIRG.
My final poster stop was by far the most daunting: the record store where all the cool kids go. A poster in the cool record store can make or break any event, and the record store people know it. The people who work in the cool record store are a law unto themselves. From their Olympian heights, they gaze upon the lowly posterer, his frivolous notices in tow, with lofty disdain...IF they deign note his presence at all! When I wndered in, there were no customers and I thought, great, it'll be really easy to attract the attention of the lone tattoo-girl working in the back, I'll be in and out, no problem, easy-sleazy. I stood next to the abandoned counter for a minute, wondering what exactly to do. When no one showed up at the counter, I ventured toward the back where tattoo-girl was pricing some cds of I'm-not-cool-enough-to-know-what, and made my presence known, wondering if she hadn't noticed my standing around or had noticed but was determined not to acknowledge my existence.
"Hi, excuse me," I inquired in my most unobtrusive possible voice, "I was wondering if I could put a poster on your big poster wall?"
I don't remember exactly what her grudging reply was, being momentarily paralyzed by the overwhelming chill in her voice, but without looking up she pointed me back toward the counter. Now there was a man standing behind it. He hadn't been there when I walked in. I was beginning to think there were a lot of complicated rules in this place that I didn't understand. Leaving tattoo-girl to her fortress of iciness, I approached the middle-aged counter guy and asked about putting up my poster. He looked a little pained. I'd probably broken a rule.
"Wellll...if you want you can leave it at the counter and maybe someone will put it up if some room on the board opens up."
It was true that the poster wall was full. A lot of people, like me, strive to be noticed by the people who shop at record stores like this one. I handed him a poster anyway. He took it, but not without offering further discouragement.
"Yeah, you know, we get about FIVE TIMES the amount of posters we've got room for." He brandished the stack of posters shoved under the cash register. "If any room opens up, one of the counter-people MIGHT put up your poster. We do what we can, but space IS very limited."
If I were more savvy, I may have offered him a bribe at this point. Instead, I thanked him and left, glad to be back out on the sidewalk. Anyway, there's for sure one in the entryway of the liquor store by the co-op. If you get a chance in the next couple days, stop by and have a look. You'll be glad you did.
