castle of memories

There are places I love that – to the best of my knowledge – no longer exist. Public places, often very small businesses, that I’m hoping you might also remember. Maybe you loved them too and will add to the memory in the comments. I’ll not be researching to make my memory “correct”. Let’s do this the old way.

Also, it’s worth mentioning that the phrase “castle of memories” is a quote from “Clay Pigeons” by Blaze Foley – a song I adore.

I moved to Victoria when I was 23 to become an environmental scientist. The two years I lived there started out lonely as all hell, and ended crammed with drama, parties and love – both platonic and romantic. It was an incubator for becoming an artist, which begs the question: should you go to art school or just move someplace that:
1. You don’t know anyone.
2. A lot of artists live.

The Second Story was a used bookshop on Johnson in downtown Victoria. It was (obviously) on the second floor. The ceilings were super high and it was a manageable size. Lots of books, but not the insanity that I’ve seen elsewhere. I have no idea how many times I went to Second Story, but I wish it was a hundred times, and it was probably more like six. They served cheap coffee and had hardwood floors and old furniture and it smelled perfect. The first time I went there I stayed for hours.

Somehow I found out that it was owned by the wife of a guy from a band that I loved called Run Chico Run.

I loved Run Chico Run. This cannot be expressed enough. I first saw them at a $5 all-ages show in Calgary and I was immediately obsessed. That night my boyfriend Mike traded a joint with them for a CD, and I bought one of their t-shirts and then my friends and I jumped the fence at the Calgary Science Centre to be harmless, but dumb child-adults in the playground. We got chased out and it was awesome. I thank R.C.R. for this out-of-character behaviour.

The band was just two guys. One of them played organ and drums at the same time and I read once that he learned how to do it by practicing in their van on tour. One guy drove, the other guy played.

I saw them a few times. Once, at Logan’s Pub in Victoria, I went outside for a smoke and there was some guy out there who was annoying me. There’s always one. But he shifted his attention to one of the Chicos when he also came out for a smoke. Instead of responding to his chatter, the Chico lit his cigarette with a match, then wordlessly threw the still-lit match at the annoying guy’s chest and turned away. Swoon.

After two semesters I quit university. I was having doubts about my interest in completing a science degree. Every damn person I talked to at UVic and every test I completed about what direction to take said I was geared for arts, so I got a job as a barista and resolved to figure it out. That’s how I met Zachariah, and he’s how I got invited to an after hours party at Second Story.

Zachariah was my manager at the coffee shop and a student of philosophy, taking a break before he started his masters. He had a lot of friends in Victoria, and though an academic by nature, he knew lots of people in bands. That night he was drinking, which was rare for me to see and late in the night he broke out dancing and singing to Brown Sugar in a remarkable imitation of Mick Jagger. It was the first time we ever drank together and it was the last time I was at Second Story.

Tell me what you remember…