Down the street from where I live is a wonderul seedy bar called The Spare Room. At one point, long ago it was a bowling alley. Now it's a place for elder lesbians to meet for bingo and lonesome karaoke embraces. Once a week, either a trio of severely obese blind men sing blues covers or a somewhat trashy (yet hot) married white couple belt out fifties do wop while chain smoking. The point of this is that I went there last night for some fried zucchini and beer, and was shocked to find the place packed with a huge crowd of people over 65.
Sitting there under the glow of the disco ball, watching all the smiling people dance like fragile senior citizens do, I pondered the possibilities of my own future existence.
Here is what I came up with:
- I will be the kind of older lady who refuses to cut her hair.
- Although my friends, family, and society in general will insist upon moving me to a retirement community, I will probably settle in Bombay, India with my two cats and devoted lover Jorge.
- Each tuesday morning I will dance in the nude to Neil Young's Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere.
- I will probably look something like one of the women in this picture.