Le paradis n'est pas artificiel …

April 25, 2004

Oh! Spartacus!


It burned down... and they had no insurance.

Spartacus Books was a non-profit, collective anarchist book and resource centre, who'd "happily had no bosses or owners since 1973." I didn't get to go there as often as I would have liked, but I've always felt good just knowing that Spartacus was out there. It was like the gas station of the revolution. From off a purgatorial street between downtown's West and East sides, sidewinding offers for fixes and fetishes, you'd walk up the wooden stairs, turn into a dark hallway, through a nondescript door and suddenly be surrounded by ideas you wanted inside your head. Bad.

It had a liminal eroticism --- all those brick walls, lined with deep books --- brainy and beautiful. Armchairs with a view of the sparse canopy of city trees. I didn't go there enough! This is like finding out that someone with whom you had a brief but intensely wonderful encounter died too young, while you were still entertaining fantasies of looking them up and fucking their brains out.

Ahem. Well, first Blacksheep, and now this. If anyone has any remaining intellectual reasons to stay in Vancouver, let me know soon, or I'm apt to go to San Francisco for good.

There's a good story by someone in the know posted on the Resist! site.

The worst part is no one in the mainstream news seems to have even mentioned Spartacus yet.

Posted by Delire at April 25, 2004 08:28 PM
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