The organizers of the dance party had no idea how many people would arrive to experience the pleasures of unassociation. The event was not addressed by the regional media. In fact, Terminal City, the alternative weekly in Vancouver running opposite the older and more staid weekly, The George Straight, was going to run some preview manifestos/articles (to be posted here shortly) on the conference. But rather than run them, the overseers of Terminal City axed the entire book section and replaced it with a two-page spread about strap-ons. Perhaps not a bad thing, but still, an indication of the difficulty of classifying the work and play that would take place on April 2nd. I suspect this dearth of coverage had less to do with the day’s activities as a counterpoint to the Association Writing Program and more to do with the fact that the overseers of media don't really know what to do with literary events that aren't directly related to bookstores and books. This conference, part party, part architectural experiment, part performance, part song and dance was difficult to classify.

Even without press coverage, more than 200 writers, readers and producers of independent literature gathered in the space of unassociation during the day to read, listen, talk, drink, bounce on the inflatable bouncy and eat yummy toasties.

The event began with about thirty people, and thereafter grew and shrunk with the natural rhythms of Vancouver.  Twice, more than a hundred people were at the event at the same time. A low-grade engine hum emitted from the fan from the inflatable bouncy. People jumped on the bouncy all day long; the structure emitted a heart-like throbbing beat punctuated with busts of laughter. Far from dampening the activity of the room, the hum allowed for the space to be freely used without interfering with the readings. In the anti-net café, patrons freely conversed under the hum. There was the constant commerce of small talk among the small presses, writers, and people who happened to walk by the Western Front and see the inflatable red shape Matthijs Bouw had affixed to the building.

Two readings stages were used all day long without pause, until, amazingly, at the climax of the day program, a magician named David Gifford, performing as Signor Giffoni, employed a series of rustic contraptions, traditional sleight-of-hand magic tricks, and beautifully structured patter, such as, "and now for an amazing and wonderful transformation!" His performance gradually collected everyone in one space and we watched magic, rabbits pulled from sacks, and eggs miraculously regenerated. At the end of his show, the bouncing heart-beat returned, the cacophony of multiple readings resumed, and the clatter of drinks being made and unmade returned.

Everything was broken down at seven and then in the shell of the space of unassociation, Matthijs Bouw spoke. P:ano played sweetly melodic songs alternating between a ukulele and a grand piano. The Strangers played very good rock-and-roll in the vein of the the Pretty Things and the Byrds.

So, all in all, a very good time was had and an event of mass unassociation concluded.

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