Memories of a book that never was. So, we're in New Hampshire at my mom's house. It's great, the dogs are great, the folks are great, the food's great. I miss my cats and my computer and my guitar, but I'm cool with that. I'm thinking about stuff, of course, because it takes about 6 black russians to stop me from thinking.

My folks left out a book I gave them when I finished it, and I picked it up again. It's the great A Year at the Movies. Kevin Murphy, a former writer for MST3K, spends a year going to the movies every single day, and writes about it. It's a great book, and I love to read it. I'm also totally jealous.

Anybody who knew me back in oh, I'm gonna say 95 or so, knew about my grand plan to write a road book about drive-ins. See, I was going to write this great book where I took about six months and rode my motorcycle to all the remaining drive-ins in the country and took photographs and saw movies, and wrote about it. This did not happen for a number of reasons, which I will get to in a minute.

When I first got a copy (a present from my dad) my first response was "Hey, why didn't I do that?" Well, I had my own version of it in my drive in book, and I even shopped it around to a couple low level publishers I met. It didn't happen for several reasons and just for fun, and work out my jealousy, I'd like to contrast it with why Kevin Murphy's book was made.

1. I HAD NO MONEY

I couldn't take six months off to ride around to drive-ins. I couldn't take a week off to go to the beach. I was frigging broke. Even if I could have taken the time off, I couldn't afford to stay in motels and feed myself. I would have had to live on rice and sleep in national parks. My humorous account of pining for a lost pleasure would have turned into some retarded cross of "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" and "La Boheme." I would slowly go insane without protein as I froze to death in my tent.

Of course, my big plans involved living on an advance from my publisher, which is what Kevin Murphy did. Unless he just lived off of MST3K money, I don't know. Of course, I'd have to convince a publisher to give me and advance, which leads me to reason number two.

2. I HAVE NEVER WRITTEN ANYTHING LONGER THAN THIS BLOG POST

A slight exaggeration, but true where it counts. Kevin Murphy wrote a successful television show for that ran for like, ten million years. My poetry has been published in a couple college magazines, but past that, I'm not a writer. I'm not sure what idiot courage led me to believe this was not going to be an obstacle, but that's what I thought. I'm a relatively amusing guy in person, and I just figured shit would happen that I could take down, and I'd work out the grammar later.

Well, of course, writing is a skill. Sure, talent in storytelling helps, but you have to do it to be good at it. I don't do it. I'm much better at fucking off. Kevin Murphy did it a lot. A whole lot. It shows. And let's be honest. What kind of a publisher would give me a pile of money after I said "Well, I just figured I'd work the writing part out later"? A publisher soon to go broke, that's what kind. A publisher buys into things that will make them money. Things by people who never did anything before rarely get completed, much less make money. I was trying to sell it on the basis of it being a great idea. Which leads me to point 3.

3. GOING TO DRIVE-INS ON A MOTORCYCLE IS A STUPID IDEA

Okay, a drive-in is made to go to in a car. A car. I have gone to drive-ins on my motorcycle, but that was with friends who drove, and they brought lawn chairs, and we generally had a full on picnic experience. Going by myself is a stupid, stupid idea. I thought it was iconoclastic and planned on bringing some kind of camping chair with me. Of course, we all know those camping chairs suck, and it probably would have been a miserable experience. And let's just forget about rain, okay? Because I sure did.

Kevin Murphy only came even vaguely close to this level of obstinate stupidity once in his book. He decided to live for a week on food sold at concession counters in theaters. He didn't make it the full week, but I'm pretty sure he went a greater percentage of his concept than I would have gone on mine. And let's face it, my idea was stupider. Really.

4. WHO THE HELL WAS GOING TO BUY THIS BOOK

This probably goes back to one of the other reasons I wasn't getting much interest from what publishers I managed to corner. Nobody has been going to the drive-in for a long, long time. Why the hell did I think people were going to read about the drive in? I mean, Americans don't read! And the don't go to the drive-in! Ipso facto, the percentage of Americans who want to read about going to the drive-in has to be down around the percentage of people who voted for Nader twice. And the fact that I fit both of those categories doth not a best-seller make.

Kevin Murphy did the whole gamut of movie theater experiences, but mostly he went to multiplexes. That's what most Americans do, if they see movies at all. Plus, he had that whole "I'm doing something you do to an extent you would never do" thing going for him. My idea was "I'm doing something you don't do, in a way you would never do if you did, and expecting you identify." Not a real crowd pleaser. Here endeth the list.

Okay, Kevin Murphy wrote a better book than I ever would. Though mine would have poignant photographs, but that's a minor difference. And, to be fair, he has a chapter drive-ins on route 66 that's great. As he points out in his chapter, between the time he planned the trip and the time he went on it, about half the drive-ins closed. This was a plan to document a doomed experience that was becoming doomed so fast, I probably wouldn't have been able to document it. It never would have happened the way I wanted it to.

But I like to imagine it would have been great. And my consolation prize is this: within a week of marrying the love of my life, we were at one of the last remaining drive-ins in America in Skowhegan, Maine, having a blast. That's the kind of memory that makes your losses perfectly acceptable.  ¶ 2:24 AM