Winter, 1990. NYC
after playing gigs around new york for a year i still felt like an unknown. i needed to do
more to get my name out, so i decided to put up flyers for an upcoming show.
i knew you could make a paste for hanging flyers out of flour and water, so i bought some
flour, poured it in a bucket, and added water until it looked like a good consistency.
i felt very self-conscious about putting the flyers up, so i went out late at night.
it didn’t matter – the streets were crowded with people.
i found a lamppost, painted some paste on it, and pressed up a flyer.
it didn’t stick
i put more paste up and tried again. it stuck for a second, then started sliding down,
slowly folding over on itself and falling to the ground in a soggy lump.
i stood staring at it. i felt like that was me, laying there on the ground.
i tried a few other spots but had the same result. each time i watched the piece of paper with
my name and picture on it fall to the ground i felt more dejected.
it wasn’t just the flyers. it was all the things that new york and the music business
did to make you feel unwanted. insignificant.
it added up. it took its toll