Scraggly man-on-the-street muttering to himself in a loud voice about having to be on time to catch a bus. I, partially overhearing, turn to see if he was asking me for the time. He takes offense:
"Whassa matter? A man likes to talk to himself... you're not so hot, you're not so different yusself, with yer buttons... yer talking to yerself with buttons..."
I smirk and resume postering.
Because the bill-posting poles are scraped into a tabula rasa every Monday night I spent four hours on the 21st promoting the next Living Closet as the first post! on these pillars of the public eye. Less than 24 hours later, biking through downtown en route to another area I had not yet postered I am shocked and more than a little peeved to discover that someone has systematically torn down or covered up all of our posters on one side of the street for something like a 20-block streak. Doing something useful to divert the pressure of my boiling blood, I use the posters I had on me and put them up twice as securely, all four sides thoroughly taped. The re-postering eats up the time I would have been postering another neighbourhood, so that gets moved to today (two days to showtime - and I haven't seen any posters put up by any other organizers anywhere)...
So en route to yet another neighbourhood, passing through downtown 24 hours after the 24 hours after, I find that many of the new posters have been either a) torn down or b) covered up with promotions for an "online community" appropriating the name of the neighbourhood in which our event is taking place. (I think there's still time to compose something nasty on the subject of the-drive.com to recite on Friday night, but it does seem awfully indulgent - not that that isn't at the heart of most poetry performances.) So again I am suckered into re-putting up the posters rather than getting to the other parts of town which haven't been spammed yet. Downtown -is- vital; it's where the most people pass through. But the spirit of the Living Closet is of diversity, so we aim to get people in from all over Greater Vancouver... unfortunately I'm now out of posters. Some more are being dropped off here this afternoon, but we're losing valuable eye-minutes here!
Grrr... I HATE postering!
Stepping into my milkshake mecca (a summer essential) I sit down on a stool and note that my favorite waitress is there. (Shaved head, one of those infuriating small-of-the-back tattoos which is always partially covered by some article of clothing that it may never be accidentally seen in full. It drives me mad. Two friends, without me, asked to see its entirety and she gladly complied, but I cannot bring myself to be so forward. Instead I merely boggle my peripheral vision at every opportunity, crossing my fingers every time she turns around or bends over to reach for something under the counter. Yeesh, as if women needed to make their butts even more attention-drawing than they were before.)
(Context: the past four or five times I've come in there over the past couple of weeks, they've either been just closing or out of ice cream
.) It's nice to know that our missed opportunities for interaction
s are remembered, but GOOD GOD, WOMAN! Don't jerk me around like that when vital things like MILKSHAKES are on the line here! Actually no, I'm charmed
, a condition which doesn't much ameliorate my doggy-eyeing of her the tattoo compels.
Finishing my creamy apple injection (that sounds unnecessarily sexy) I ask if I can put up a poster for our show on their wall-o-promotions. She giggles at my politesse (apparently asking permission is not de rigeur for indoor postering on private property) and even goes so far as to suggest a couple of expired events I can poster over. As I'm putting up the poster, a (h07 ch1x0r!) customer approaches me and starts asking details about the event - location, how to get there, cover, when it starts, what kind of performances, and as I unload my encyclopaediac knowledge of the topic on her (me being the most senior, at a bit over one year, volunteer in the outfit at this point) her smile gets bigger and bigger. I finish with a brief spiel about the group's mandate and philosophy and tell her I hope to see her there. She glows and says she'll -definitely- be there. In parting she asks if I can spare a poster for her but my arm anticipates her, left hand already sending a flyer her way.
Aw bjyeah... I LOVE postering!
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