I heard a story about a friend of a friend--a visual artist in rural north carolina--who found an out of use gas station, empty and ignored. The visual artist started squatting there. He used the garage with its high ceilings and natural light. He opened the space up to friends who would come and crash for however long they wanted. People would drink and smoke and make art. It was anarchic and chaotic. But the people were free to make what they wanted when they wanted, and when they didn't have anything to do, they could do nothing.