Future Perfect

I have seen the future.

I’ve been there. I know what happens next. And you, well, you’ll see it too, sooner or later, only you’ll see it coming from the other direction, and it might not seem as cool by then.

SPOILER ALERT: I am about to tell you what happens next. Do not read on if you do not want to know.

Hunting Hippies in East Montrose

When it finally rained in Houston, nobody knew what to do. As in nobody remembered how to handle the reality of water falling out of the sky. Was there some sort of procedure in place for handling this? Should we make our way to the nearest FEMA camp? Was it safe enough for humans to touch? How long would it last?

And the kids… Well, the kids were only children, after all, and completely without any firsthand memory of rain. And they came shrieking into the house, soaked to the bone, to announce that fluffy grey things had invaded the local sky and were throwing water at them. The kids were worried about the birds, who seemed so unprotected.  

When it finally rained in Houston, the desert jinni, the spirits and demons and dervishes from parts generally west of here all packed up their things and began hightailing it out of town. This was just as well, really, because desert spirits are notorious for driving men to do some crazy shit like start religions even, and there’s been quite enough of that already, thank you.

What I Did for Love

My best behavior.

She said my best behavior. Not somebody else’s best behavior. She did not say that. But my best behavior. Mine.

And I believe we can agree, you and I can, that that is a subjective standard. Just like how my favorite song is not your favorite song. Were you to hear it, you probably would not like my favorite song very much.

My best church clothes probably would not fit you, and even if they did fit you, you probably would not wish to wear them. They are not your best church clothes. They are not objectively the best church clothes possible. Not Plato’s Ideal Church-clothes-ness. Nuh-uh.

No, when Dana – who is my wife – came in to talk to me the other day, she was specific in what she said. I even wrote it down, word for word, in the little pocket note pad I keep with me at all times. When Dana came in to talk to me the other day, this is what she said. She said, “Katy, we just hired a new associate. Partner track. And she has invited everybody in our department to her house for dinner tomorrow night.”

Gay Neighbors: A Needs Assessment

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.

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.