(no subject)
The old drive-in on the edge of town closed down before Wendy and I ever met. I went there once with Mom and one of her boyfriends, to see something cheesy and animated. They let me squeeze in up front, between them, on the bench seat of the old Buick. I remember the blue velour seats, and the boyfriend's wide-buckled belts, big hands and knock-off watch, but not his face. They bought me popcorn and a soda, gummy worms and Whoppers, and there was a box of Sno Caps that sat unopened at my feet.
I always fuckin' hated Sno Caps.
But on the north side of town was an old theater, one that had been there for a good forty years, the paint peeling and the red cushions worn through and musty, the projectors scratchy and unreliable, the two screens cracked and yellowing. We'd sit up in the balcony, Wendy and me, our feet propped up on the rail, whispering to each other from opening to credits. I never worked out of there.
I never picked up guys when Wendy was around. There always needed to be a good distance between us before it felt right.
We saw this movie when we were both sixteen, a midnight showing in a completely empty theater, which was great, 'cause we could talk as loud as we wanted. We were both a little stoned, I think, which made it even more awesome, but even now, middle of the day and completely sober, it's pretty fuckin' great.
Mondays are usually slow, and I don't need to be at the Winchester for both shifts, so before dinner, I curled up on the couch with the projector rolling. My ear's healed, but it still itches, the pressure just a little off, and I feel a little more groggy than usual, so while the people in that stark, perfect little apartment building go and fuck each other to death, I doze with Max sprawled across my feet.
I wouldn't even mind some fucking Sno Caps, right now.
[[He's watching David Cronenberg's They Came From Within. You can watch the trailer here. It's very, very 70s, classic body horror. Parasites and orgies and lesbians. Fun for all. Open to everyone, ST/LT welcome.]]
I always fuckin' hated Sno Caps.
But on the north side of town was an old theater, one that had been there for a good forty years, the paint peeling and the red cushions worn through and musty, the projectors scratchy and unreliable, the two screens cracked and yellowing. We'd sit up in the balcony, Wendy and me, our feet propped up on the rail, whispering to each other from opening to credits. I never worked out of there.
I never picked up guys when Wendy was around. There always needed to be a good distance between us before it felt right.
We saw this movie when we were both sixteen, a midnight showing in a completely empty theater, which was great, 'cause we could talk as loud as we wanted. We were both a little stoned, I think, which made it even more awesome, but even now, middle of the day and completely sober, it's pretty fuckin' great.
Mondays are usually slow, and I don't need to be at the Winchester for both shifts, so before dinner, I curled up on the couch with the projector rolling. My ear's healed, but it still itches, the pressure just a little off, and I feel a little more groggy than usual, so while the people in that stark, perfect little apartment building go and fuck each other to death, I doze with Max sprawled across my feet.
I wouldn't even mind some fucking Sno Caps, right now.
[[He's watching David Cronenberg's They Came From Within. You can watch the trailer here. It's very, very 70s, classic body horror. Parasites and orgies and lesbians. Fun for all. Open to everyone, ST/LT welcome.]]