Nice little spaces are easy to find in St. Louis -- vacant car-repair places; storage rooms buried in industrial districts; lofts and basements. It's much easier to find someplace that'll hold 500 than one that holds 2,000. So you print a few hundred fliers and tell everyone to keep it on the lowdown, and, when the night arrives, a sense of camaraderie swells to the surface. The scene was slow this summer, but with a few rumored parties apparently taking shape, the fall and winter show promise. Attention, authorities: The kids are growing up, they're voting, they're thinking, and their brains aren't any more damaged from youthful experimentation than yours was from all that coke, acid and pot. The dancers no longer want to roll all night on pills (though one's nice every once in a while); they want to roll all night on a packed dance floor. And they like tiny secrets, because from tiny secrets come wonderful stories.
The myth that the French are great lovers was built on the divinely sordid works of these men and women. And nowhere can you find as many great examples of the classic Dirty French Novel as you will in the front window of Subterranean Books. That's right: As you peruse that copy of Miracle of The Rose (dude, prison sex is hot!), passersby can clearly see you and what you are. Even better, Subterranean will gladly order any of the tomes missing from your collection, so you need not go without the beautiful and brutal Chants of Maldoror just because it's not in stock. Old Mr. Comstock would roll over in his grave at the thought of these classics' being freely available despite all his efforts, but his turgid member keeps him propped sideways in his coffin, like a bike on a kickstand -- which is just the sort of thing the Comte de Lautréamont wanted you to think about when he wrote Maldoror, which is why you should read it.
The myth that the French are great lovers was built on the divinely sordid works of these men and women. And nowhere can you find as many great examples of the classic Dirty French Novel as you will in the front window of Subterranean Books. That's right: As you peruse that copy of Miracle of The Rose (dude, prison sex is hot!), passersby can clearly see you and what you are. Even better, Subterranean will gladly order any of the tomes missing from your collection, so you need not go without the beautiful and brutal Chants of Maldoror just because it's not in stock. Old Mr. Comstock would roll over in his grave at the thought of these classics' being freely available despite all his efforts, but his turgid member keeps him propped sideways in his coffin, like a bike on a kickstand -- which is just the sort of thing the Comte de Lautréamont wanted you to think about when he wrote Maldoror, which is why you should read it.