Saturday Morning Experience Show

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Chris Donahue's birthday party in the third grade, his dad took us all out to the new Petaluma Century Westgate theater. Half of us went to see Space Jam, and the other half Star Trek: First Contact. I regret that I was in the latter group, even though I had already seen First Contact at least once by this time. I would see it four times. Titanic had come out that year and seeing movies multiple times as affirmation was in the in thing, so as I could tell. To this day I do not know what happened in Space Jam, only that cartoon space aliens and Bill Murray collide over a jam of hoop in da space. I am curious.

I think I also saw The Net there before the theater closed down, as a result of the shitty quality common to all the movies released theatrically during the late 1990s. I think I also saw the cartoon about the space ship and the space apocalypse there as well, but as I can't remember the title, only the vague notion that Drew Barrymore was in it, but I think I may have dreamed this movie.

The lot where the theater used to be is now a KOHL's. It's remarkable in that it's the only place in Sonoma County where even in the wettest parts of January the grass around it is still dead and yellow.

I miss sitting outside of my house sharing cigarettes with my downstairs neighbor, trying to convince her to sleep with me because I was crazy and insightful by talking weightfully in between shorter and more complete puffs. It was the greatest courtship game for me, as my peacock feathers were all degenerate tangents meant to shock her, and if she looked bored it'd be all the more violent.

I'm rarely that comfortable being a top. Something about her being so much older and in such an obvious position of power made me excited and vulnerable. I think sexuality is not warm or comfortable, but strained pop philosophy on a Mission district sloop over cigarettes with phone sexing tooth chipped degenerates. That's why I'm such an easy sell, I guess.