Friday, 13 July 2001 | Drive-in

Until last night, I hadn't been to a drive-in movie since I was very young. I'm not sure when it was or what I saw; I can only remember snapshots of the parking lot and the concessions building, the little alien heads of the speakers sprouting up through the dirt. There is a drive-in not that far from where I live now, but for some reason, last night was my first visit there, for a special showing of Superfly. I went with a few friends of mine, including Esther, who's visiting from Germany; we stuffed my car with people, lawn chairs, pillows, a cooler, and a radio, and arrived in time to see an unorganized costume and pimp-car contest (my car wasn't in the running.) We spread ourselves out on the lawn at the base of the movie screen, and watched the film to a soundtrack of Curtis Mayfield and treefrogs. The theater was equipped with a concession stand and (non-working) speakers for each car, just like I'd remembered from before, and it even had a gun shop, just in case Esther forgot what country she was in. By the end of the show, we were all perplexed as to why drive-ins have become so scarce.

On my way home from the theater, there was lots of smoke and staring at gauges and pushing and waiting, and, as it turns out, my car has seen its last tow truck; the head gasket was, in financial terms, the fatal wound. If I had the money to do it, I'd keep getting it fixed until there was absolutely no more life in it, but I know it doesn't make sense to do that. I just don't want any other car.

Today I'm sick (no, it's not related...I've been working toward it all week). Since I'm at home, I've decided to close off Jane (my long-term cat) in a room by herself, and let the two remaining kittens and mother cat have reign over the house. It's good they're getting a change of scenery, but I'm afraid I will too, as I can hear them knocking anything they can from any shelf within their reach.

Ingo sent this drawing from New York, in honor of today.