They say a good neighbor ought to know her community. They say it’s its own reward to have some kind of shared sense of place in this world.
And so I try but it can be painful and it can be confusing.
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| This neighborhood was too gay... |
Like the other day, I am driving down Fairview and this twelve foot tall black tranny walks out in front of my van and falls over. Just collapses right there in front of me. I look out and it’s wigs-a-go-go out there and I’m not sure what to do and I look over at my daughter and I start singing: “These are the people in your neighborhood / In your neighborhood / In you neigh-bor-HOOD!”
Except that it’s 2011 and she’s six and she doesn’t know about Mister Rogers. She knows about twelve foot tall trannies on Fairview, but Mister Rogers? Forget it.
But still I try to know my community, and so I’m reading all the local papers, and lately, everywhere I look the papers are worrying about how maybe my neighborhood just isn’t gay enough anymore. Maybe the breeders have come to Montrose and maybe they are taking over.
Now, this is not an entirely easy admission for me, but the truth is I’m clueless as to what the optimum level of homosexuality in a neighborhood might be… or what one would do to change that level… or frankly, even to be made aware of the level.
