Once I was cool: Message to David Byrne

Once I remember I begged and pleaded to get into a Talking Heads concert at the age of 17 in Paris because I had recognized the mere outline of the United States in the newspaper as the Talking Heads logo, and I was walked by their dressing rooms by a man who refused our money, and the B-52s were still playing as the warm-up band when we got in.

Once I knew who Stiv Bator was and how the Sid Vicious film deviated from the real story and hung out with a heroin addict and his best friend, a porn star. I worked at Max's Kansas City for a month and had to ask why everyone wore gold razor blades around their necks. By the time I turned eighteen, I could ask around to find out who the actors were in Stranger than Paradise (the singer). I bought pizza for 35 cents and thought Stromboli was too sweet and went everywhere by Subway. I remember when Heart of Glass was not even a sell out, but a joky pastiche of a sell out. And that London Calling was such a disappointment that Danny held it out at arm's length and said, "Pink Floyd." And by the time I saw The Cramps I was very worried that I had missed out, that it was past their prime. That was 1978. I was still too young to stay out late enough to hear the main attractions at the Mud Club, so I didn't go. It was too loud, anyway. I played a good deal of pool, even though I was never very sharp, first uptown at the old place on Broadway, Guys and Dolls, and then when that became an Oriental rug dealership, Julians, off Union Square.

In 1981 for a summer I lived on 4th St. and Avenue A and listened to The Psychedelic Furs on a record player. Friends tell me Madonna was desperate that year because everyone left her party before midnight on New Year's Eve. I was somewhere else, eating Mulligatawny soup on Little India street.

In 1983 I lived on 13th St. between A and B and hung out at Life Cafe, later called Dave's Life Cafe. The luxury high-rise Chris. House off Tompkins Sq. Park was an abandoned shell. You were scared even in a group around there. The Red Bar opened. Parties downtown were always packed with people and ridiculously loud like a Subway train. I sought to dress in second hand clothes but spurned Alice's Underground and any other shop and went exclusively to the Salvation Army and St. Vincent de Paul's. My overcoat did not fit me well, but it was cashmere.

I was 21.