Human life found at Spartacus Books

Finally, something resembling a human experience at Spartacus Books. Let me start off by pointing out two things. First, I am a fan of Spartacus Books. Keep that in mind. Second, I am aware that book stores are usually relatively quite places and that the mood is usually tranquil. This notwithstanding, the vibe I usually experience at Spartacus is more comatose that tranquil. Until last Sunday…

Spartacus Books is a non for profit volunteer book store that recently relocated from the heart of Vancouver's Downtown East Side to just on the edge of the Downtown East Side. The store carries unique and provocative selection of books and zines on a variety of topics such as class warfare, feminism, ecological issues, anti-racism, anti-corporatism, anarchism, social thought and conflict. I almost always find something great there. To date, however, the vibe has left much to be desired. Now I admit, at first glace I may not look like the most approachable person on Earth. I prefer black (it’s slimming) or surplus clothing (camo is sliming to the point of invisibility in the right environment). I have what some have described as beady, intense eyes. While the windows to my soul may be tinted, I assure you that I am a very pleasant person. Nevertheless, I have been told many times that I have an angry look. Reminds me of one of Bill’s (Hicks for those of you joining The Ride late…) bits:
“Don’t you hate those people who say the expression ‘Do you know it takes more energy to smile that it does to frown?’ I point out to them that ‘You it takes more energy to say that then it does to leave me alone?’

But I digress…

Where was I? Oh yes, Spartacus. As I was saying I entered expecting the typical Spartacus interaction that usually involves a completely disinterested man or woman sitting at the counter or one of the web terminals. I enter and invariably say “hey”. Usually they are too involved in what they are doing to respond verbally but they will, on occasion, look up and make eye contact.

I proceed to look around and sometimes make the mistake of asking the person about something I am looking for. They usually say “I don’t know”, “I’m not sure” and sometime even muster a “Hmmm, I don’t know sorry”. One time I was told “You’ll have to look around.” What the fuck do you think I’m doing? An interpretive dance called ‘Beady eyed dude in black seems to be looking for something’. Thank you Spartacus volunteer for furthering the narrative of my life. Perhaps if I take the time to ask, my looking around pantomime is not achieving the results I need. Now remember, despite appearances, I am not an angry person. It reminds me of time I asked about some t-shirts they were selling at their old place. Picture a rack of approximately six t-shirts. Picture me walking in, doing a half hour of interpretive dance that concludes with me sashaying over to the aforementioned shirt rack. They are all small. I confirm this by looking at the tags. I medium, 5 small. I then have the following conversation with the gentle soul behind the counter:

Me: “Cool shirts”
Gentle Soul: silence combined with a look of apprehension
Me: “Looks like you have only smaller sizes”
Gentle Soul: “mmm”
Me: “Do you have any bigger sizes?”
Gentle Soul: looks at t-shirt rack with is approximately three feet away, pauses and says “I don’t see any.”
And yet I keep going back.
It’s not that the people are unfriendly or even aloof. They just don’t seem to be engaged at all. As a quite side note to my larger than medium readers, I did purchased a sweet Arm-me t-shirt a long time ago at their old location.

Which brings me to my point, finally…

Last Sunday, I stopped by Spartacus on my way to the Poverty Olympics (stay tuned). I entered, began my interpretive dance recital and asked the pleasant sounding chap who was setting up a new printer if he had anything on Mkultra. He stopped, though about it and politely said “Hmmm, you know I don’t think that we do.” Was he lying? Perhaps. Reading for the Spartacus script entitled “Ask me and I bet I don’t know nor will I attempt to help you”. It didn’t sound like it. I even heard him speak to a fellow volunteer regarding a book he would like to buy. Could he be…human? I eventually selected Julie Hecht’s Andy Kaufman: Was This Man a Genius? and walked up to the counter. Determined to test my theory, I asked the gentlemen if he had anything on Bill Hicks. He stated that they did but he did not think he had it now. I asked if it was something written by Kevin Booth and he said he was not sure. Yep, we were on the precipice of a full-blown conversation. I asked him about his netbook and then we got on to the topic of Burning Man (An Anarchist event? I do not claim to be a hardcore Anarchist or versed in all tenant of Anarchism but I just don’t see it. Not at $300 per ticket. Dionysian? Sure. Hedonistic? Sure. Anarchist? Not really.) Not wanting to spoil the moment I happily paid his friendly female co-volunteer for my purchase and departed.

Thank you friendly, engaged Spartacus volunteers for restoring my faith in humanity.

Groundhog Day 2010

Remember the movie Groundhog Day? Bill Murray (one of my all-time favourite actors) is newsman Phil Connors, who finds himself stuck repeating the same day again and again, waking each day at 6:00 am to Sonny and Cher's "I Got You Babe." A tortured study in futility. No matter what Bill (Phil) does, he is unable to affect change and the ending is always the same. Embarking on my daily consumption of myriad media sources has been a lot like Groundhog day. Especially when it comes to the 2010 Games: cost overruns, secret security budget climbing (maybe at a billion, yes, a billion by now), backroom / illegal deals to change the city's charter to mortgage the city's future, no public consultation, homeless further marginalized and ignored. All for a two week party celebrating a bunch of spandex clad self-involved losers throwing themselves down mountains or around in a circle using various apparatus. What a fucking joke! Though unlike Groundhog Day, this joke is not even mildly amusing. And there's no happy ending...

Let's get back to that billion dollar thing. Reminds me of one of Bill Hicks' more memorable quotes:

"You know all that money we spend on nuclear weapons and defense each year, trillions of dollars, correct? Instead -- just play with this -- if we spent that money feeding and clothing the poor of the world -- and it would pay for it many times over, not one human being excluded -- we can explore space together, both inner and outer, forever in peace."

Let's think locally. Substitute 'nuclear weapons and defense' with the equally useless 'Olympics' and 'trillions' for 'billions' (just to be fair) and you've got the right idea. Just think of what could be done if we used that billion dollars to feed the hungry, clothe the poor, build homes for the homeless. The choices that have been made for us are absolutely unconscionable.

There are those who are attempting to get the message of change out, trying to add to the narrative and getting us to wake up to something other than "I Got You Babe". Want something to cheer for as the Olympics approaches? Check out www.no2010.com.

Letterman Attempts to Atone

On Friday evening, Letterman got it right. 15 years later. For my fellow rabid Hicks fans out there, this needs no explanation. For those less acquainted with Bill's life and work, a quick explanation:

October 1st 1993, Bill performed for the 12th time on Letterman. Bill had been long time favourite of Letterman but due to some of the content of this set, Letterman and his staff decided not to run it. Both the show's producers and CBS denied responsibility. Bill expressed his feelings of betrayal in a hand-written, 39-page letter to John Lahr of The New Yorker. Although Letterman later expressed regret at the way Hicks had been handled (unaware Bill was battling pancreatic cancer), Bill passed away a few months later and did not appear on the show again. The full account of this incident was featured in a New Yorker profile by Lahr and appeared later published as a chapter in John Lahr's book, Light Fantastic.

Letterman finally acknowledged his error, invited Bill's mother Mary onto the show to talk about Bill and aired the censored material. Watching the material was certainly moving. Though the material was tame by Bill's standards and could not have been forseen as his requiem (I don't believe Bill had that in mind), it is classic Hicks. Though Bill is less animated and arguably less sharp than in performances such as Revelations, it is still a must see for any Hicks fan. In case you missed it, check it out here.

No doubt Bill got a kick out of the show on Friday, especially seeing his mom.

You want to see what I believe is Bill's true requiem? Here it is...

FIN

The Coen Evolution

I finally got a chance to see Burn After Reading over the holidays. It was, in a word, scrumtralescent. The casting and performances were absolutely first rate.

The Coen Brothers continue to show an incredible range of light, shadow and darkness in their films. While I am a sucker for the more emphatic undercurrents of hope and triumph of the human spirit evident in Hudsucker Proxy or Raising Arizona, I have to say that the undercurrents of frailty, futility and despair in Burn After Reading and No Country For Old Men are also quite compelling.

If I had to rank my top ten favourite Coen Brother's films today, I think I would have to go with:

1- No Country for Old Men
2- Raising Arizona
3- The Hudsucker Proxy
4- Burn After Reading
5- The Big Lebowski
6- O Brother Where Art Thou
7- Fargo
8- Miller's Crossing
9- Blood Simple

Why not a top ten? Everyone does a top ten...

Remember, remember the 5th of November

Let me start off by stating that I am not a spokesperson and reminding you that everyone is a spokesperson. I am simply your humble narrator.

I entered the room to find everyone hard at work. After exchanging greetings I set to assembling my Guy Fawkes mask. I found the mood to be more pensive than festive but certainly communal. Though I had not met any of my confederates prior to the evening's events, I was made to feel welcome.

We spoke about elements of the legend of Guy Fawkes, a revolutionary standing against the tide of oppression in occupied territory. We too are in occupied territory. After viewing an interesting documentary about what would have happened if the Gunpowder Plot had succeeded, we prepared for the rest of the evening's festivities. Part political statement, part performance art, all devoted to reclaiming Guy Fawkes Day.

In the spirit of the evening, we opted to burn an effigy of our own, of someone many of us considered to be a true traitor: The Right Honourable Prime Minster Stephen Harper. The cartoonish effigy, with its stuffed shirt and balloon shaped head bore a striking resemblance to the PM, all that was missing was the silly sweater vest. The eyes of the effigy were equally as vacant as those of the Prime Minister. It should be noted that there was no discussion of personal animosity towards Stephen Harper, the man. He is just anther grey faced, dead-eyed cog in the machine. I suppose we could have burned a flag but it was Guy Fawkes Day.

Those of us who chose to participate in the statement (let's call us the Vs) spoke about our plans should we encounter any undue police attention from Victoria's swine-est. We were secure in the fact that our march was, on its face, to be conducted in accordance with the law.

We donned out masks and set forth on our quest to Parliament. The streets of Victoria were all but deserted. An abandoned copy of The Street Newz swirled in a vestibule, marking the spot where one of the city's powerless likely sat hours earlier hoping for a few coins in exchange for a different message. We marched past, determined, not powerless, with a message of our own.

The reaction of the occasional pedestrian and Wednesday night bar crowd to the Vs in formation was not one of fear but intrigue. Periodic chants of "Remember, Remember the Fifth of November" rose fell with our footsteps. One of the Vs, turned to me and said "People should not be afraid of their government." I replied, "Governments should be afraid of their people."

We arrived in front of Parliament and those tasked with delivering the effigy did so. The effigy was laid in state and set subsequently set ablaze. Now, as I indicated at the onset of this account, I am your humble narrator, not photographer. Ergo, I apologize for the lackluster photographs. I briefly watched the effigy burn, surrounded by the Vs, with the Parliament building's glowing silhouette in the background. The glowing silhouette of the Parliament buildings made them appear as mere scaffolding as opposed to a looming institutional symbol. How appropriate.

As a lone flashlight approached from the upper part of the grounds, the Vs took their leave, with one of them punctuating the statement by engaging in a little pyrotechnical merriment.

We all went about our separate ways some running, some via critical mass, some disappearing into the shadows.

As I departed I looked back over my shoulder to see the flames still slightly flickering from the smoldering, charred remains of the effigy. I smiled to myself and though, "Finally, a carbon footprint to be proud of…"

Ground Noise and Static

On Saturday, a friend of mine and I attended the Vancouver premiere of Ground Noise and Static, a documentary about independent media covering protests at the 2008 RNC and DNC in St. Paul and Denver, at the Vivo Studios. Ground Noise and Static, a dismissive term used by McCain to describe protesters who interrupted one of his speeches, provided a very compelling look at the independent media's attempt to cover the actions of activists who sought to protest and disrupt the RNC and DNC. The filmmakers were on hand to present their work and answer questions (unfortunately I missed the Q&A due to a mind numbing night shift). I had the chance to speak with Joe and Lambert before the film and their soft spoken manner belied their impact and sobering work. It was, in a word, awesome. I wish I had a chance to speak with them following the film as I would have been interested in their take on the current political situation down south and if they believed an Obama presidency would bring about any of the changes sought by the activists. My friend was able to stay for the Q&A which by his account was brief, save for a question about what local activists could do to be more effective. According to my friend, the general opinion was to attempt to gain more mainstream support by getting out the message. Obviously the filmmakers believe that the story of resistance, which is all too often ignored or twisted by the main stream media, is compelling enough that wider exposure would result in wider support. After watching the film I could not agree more.

The film provides first rate embedded footage of the activists clashing with the police as well as personal accounts from those targeted by the state in preemptive police raids. The film raised some questions which speak to the core of democracy and freedom: Who gets to tell us what we can see? Who gets to tell us what we can say? Who gets to tell us whom we can associate with? Moreover, the film and its creators leave the viewer with the question: Who is the press and who says? The answers provided by the film makers is simple, "don't hate the media, be the media".

Regular Everyday Normal Guy

Think everyone has been co-opted by the oppressive, false bravado of our materialistic urban Western world? Think again. Check out this regular everyday normal guy...