somewhere else, not here: Part 1

I moved somewhere new.


I move every three or four years because it divides life up into nice clean parcels; drawers of calendar dates to file away the past like it happened to somebody else. Plus, starting over in a new place makes me feel alive: Where does this street go? What’s the shortest route to the grocery store? Who lives next door?

Actually, though! I’m feeling a little bit like a baboon heart. My house is large and cavernous, even though I try to find furniture at estate sales. Every weekend I tiptoe across purple carpeting to audition the bedroom chairs of dead John Birchers, only to get poked in the ass by wicker shards. We don’t have a Trader Joe’s or a movie theatre. My next-door neighbor leaves his blinds open at night:

oh no

There’s one other lesbian under 40 living by herself in this family/retiree neighborhood; a police officer who takes her K-9 home with her every night. I walked over there with a cheese bread, a scone, and my phone number, but guess what, she’s one of those dykes who thinks she passes and therefore won’t be seen with someone who doesn’t.

You can spot her from a hundred feet.

I am Mopey McSulkersons right now, but I promise to leave the house this week and have a story for you at the end of it.

7 thoughts on “somewhere else, not here: Part 1

  1. Move! I was stuck in a town like this for many years, and it nearly destroyed me. Pretty scenery does not make up for the total lack of social support.

  2. Your next-door-neighbour, the one with beautiful dead animals mounted on his wall, needs to see a doctor.

    Sorry to hear that you’re feeling lonely and blue.

    (Love your blog, which I discovered only a few weeks ago).

  3. Phona, so sorry to hear you a blue. I’m sending you a lot of love, and hope the good people nearby pop up in time. To be rejected for bringing the cheese board, ouch, it is painful when lesbian sisters are trying to pass, and get so afraid of those of us who never do. But they are not passing either, that’s what makes it weird.

    I love your writing and find you one of the most compelling compassionate lesbian writers on the Internet. I so value everything you do, and would love to share a cheeseboard with you!

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