I have never actually read a book by Armistead Maupin, but I have no doubt that his work was based on my apartment building. Meet my neighbors--I'll call them Perry and Stu. An older couple with matching white beards, Stu favors pajama pants and flowing skirts as his principal attire, while Perry likes to flit around the building in a thigh-length bathrobe. They are friendly with an unlikely assortment of neighborhood characters, one of whom stole my friend's bike out of the lobby a few weeks ago. Perry and Stu were most apologetic and have cut off communication with the man. They were also quite insistent that their names not be released to the police. They love to chat, and just this afternoon they took Aaron and I through a scene-by-scene analysis of "Suddenly, Last Summer," the Tennessee Williams/Katherine Hepburn/Elizabeth Taylor/Montgomery Clift classic. Now, I'm a fan of this movie myself, but I'm afraid to say that my generalized recollections of certain memorable scenes paled in comparison to their finely detailed reading of its many, many, many, many layers of filmic meaning.
They have a collection of 2,000 films on tape and have invited us over for a viewing. Most of them were taped off of television since Stu prefers the abridged versions. Our relationship is only just starting to flower, so I'll keep you posted.