A New Showtime Original Series

Today, I met the last of my new neighbors. After the move to the south, I had to start all over with a brand-new set of neighbors.

Today, I met Tharah. The just moved here from Wathington, and she's an art hithtorian at the Univerthity of Mempthith. I met her as I was dropping trash off and nearly backed into her. She smiled and scurried to the elevator. She looks like what you think an art historian might look like: youngish, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail with loose curls along the side of her face, dark blouse and black coulottes, a backpack and as awkward as a big donkey Girl Scout.

I also was getting on the elevator, on my way to Walgreen's for soap. We had the chat on the way down where I learned all the pertinent facts. On my way to Walgreen's I saw her walking in this Memphis heat in her dark outfit. I drove by in air-conditioned comfort, and thought about how nice it was to have a new female on the floor - one who might make a nice new honey? Later, as I was checking out at Walgreen's, I saw her enter the store, and felt guilty. If I had known we were coming to the same place, she could have had a ride in air-conditioned comfort as well.

There's another female who lives on my floor, and to be honest, I've not met her to learn her name, nor do I particularly remember what she looks like. But I do remember her boyfriend. Maybe 27ish, reddish-brown hair, and goatee. Skinny hairy legs and almost always in white t-shirts and khaki cargo shorts. One night we made small talk about the white take-out bags he was carrying and the messy orange goo oozing out of one of them.

"Yeah," he said, "We wanted Indian and I couldn't come back without Mango Lassie."

"Whipped" is what it said to me.

The other neighbor that I met is Pissy Queer. He was moving in the day I moved in. And, bless his heart, he wasn't happy about anything that day.

I've run into him a couple of times since then. And he never seems to be happy.

"I sure do hate moving. But I just couldn't pass this up. I mean for $750 a month, even if it isn't perfect. I had all my stuff in a storage unit here and I got tired of paying $350 a month, especially with my condo in Nashville and another one in Birmingham. This place is all right, but I'll spend another $150 in paint, and $120 in new light fixtures, and another..."

He went on but I just nodded and smiled.

I've met one of my other neighbors, but I can't remember his name and my gaydar gets a major signal- a four- or five-pinger on a scale of one to five. The final person on my floor I've only seen once - a lanky fella. And my gaydar tracked a two-and-a-half-pinger on him.

Already I see the makings of a half-hour dramedy. Add in the supporting cast of characters from my building: Barbara, the cranky apartment manager; Lauren, the "leasing chick" (I swear that's how she introduced herself to me); Esther, the African-American and consistently jovial housekeeper: Henry, the African-American elderly groundskeeper who seems so frail he can barely push his grocery cart of trash; Mr. Charles, the also eldery and definitely gay gentleman who deserves his own post; the lady who plays the harp in the symphony, and the old lady who gets her exercise by making laps in the lobby.

Center it around the dramedy of the Gaggle...and it could be the next hit Showtime orignal series.

Queer As Folk - Memphis