BRIEF RANTS RETURNS

Wrapping up the end of the month in the Scribe style to which most of you have grown accustomed and all of you pleasure yourselves:


BAT-CULT CONTINUES TO PROVE ME RIGHT- The only thing missing is a bombardment of angry emails. This bizarre Harry Potter-esque devotion to the new Batman films is mind-blowing to say the least, and kinda scary to say the most. Apparently, having a dissenting viewpoint is the equivalent of blasphemy and is to be punished. One thing you may not know about old Scribe is he’s an old hand at dealing with Yahoo message board posters. At one time he used to kamikaze militant gays, definitely the toughest nuts to crack. This Bat-Cult lacks their style and coherence, so some of the sport isn’t there, but what they lack in smarts they definitely make up for with tenacity. My favorite is how they criticize me and others who dislike the movie as spending too much time commenting about it, yet there they are to react to our comments at every turn. The most gratifying thing is that others are starting to see them for what they are. Contrary to what that one stupid ass wrote to me, my objective wasn’t to “win.” and change peoples’ minds, it was to expose hypocrisy and a disturbing trend. I’d like to say “mission accomplished” but I need a flight jacket and an aircraft carrier for the photo ops.


And speaking of people acting weird,

WOMEN IS DER FUNNIEST CREATURES- I don’t get it and perhaps I’m not meant to. Explain to me how someone can seem to be simply enamored of you from day to day, claiming you as the best friend they’ve had in, possibly ever, and suddenly you can’t even get them to return a GD text message? Is it to make a person drive himself crazy trying to figure out what he did or said? Is it because the female tendency to shut out all external forces when depressed also makes them incapable of seeing the effect it’s having on others? Or, it is just that some people get tired of knowing some people after a while and don’t possess the stones to just cowgirl up and spit it out? Can you tell I’m angry? I think I have a reason to be. How many times should a person text someone before they start feeling like a nuisance or unwanted? I don’t have a number for you but I can tell you that after a week of having done so, I’ve definitely reached that point. It wasn’t like I was sending text after text after text with pix of my slit wrists here! I learned not to do that anymore after Betty White pressed charges! BITCH!!!
When I say I text messaged, I mean no more than twice a day in the beginning and once every other day by the end. I did receive a few cryptic responses about being depressed and having tons to fill me in on when we saw each other again. And that did take place. But right after it all went back to the way it had been with me texting and her not replying. Would a guy do this s_? Maybe, but with a guy I would’ve already said, “Look, asshole, what’s your problem?” Even those women who claim to be cool like that are not.



So now what? Should I continue to text? I’ve already stopped. Should I just do a wait ‘n see for the possible moment she gets past whatever she’s going through? Or should I just chalk it up to more proof of my belief that anything that seems too good to be true is usually just a sadistic lie waiting to be revealed. Vultures?



A few hours after I wrote this, the same person mentioned above ran up to me out of nowhere and gave me a hug so fiercely hard & tight that she nearly broke my glasses.


Chicks~

WHAT ARE YOU DOING, SCRIBE?- Good question…um…me. What am I doing? I’m not sure. I feel like I’m standing still. I feel…well, I don’t really feel much at all lately. I don’t write. I don’t even try. I have a book coming out. There have been so many delays I think I’ll be driving a Jetson’s car before it actually gets released. My job is…well, a job. Plus, being in an office full of so many attractive women serves as a constant reminder of where I am and what I can’t have or do. All I want to do these days is read, and the material I’m choosing tends to be about the real lives of people who have done things I wish I’d done. I’m not “allowed” top be depressed these days because I’m around someone who dwells in their own misery to the point that they cannot believe anyone else suffers. So when I don’t do anything but read or go online, I am accused of being lazy because seeing anything else would mean pausing the suffering long enough to see it. I walk around with unresolved feelings tearing a hole through my center and I can’t express them anywhere except here, where I can’t specify for fear of being exposed I try to move forward and in many ways I succeed, but a significant portion of me is still “back there,” demanding various forms of resolution and closure. That phantom me will see none if, however, until I make the decision to radically change everything that is currently wrong with my life. Until that happens, if that happens, I will remain splintered between two moments, one in the past, the other in a never-ending present of my own devising.

On a lighter note, Eva Mendes finally answered one of ym semen-scribbled letters of undying but willing to kill anyone including toddlers devotion and said yes to my proposal. The best part is that per the contract:

HER ASS IS INCLUDED!!!