The More You Ignore Me Read Free Page A

writer’s version of reality with hopes of some condescending pat on the head—sad!—but the form itself is revolutionary, for even in the seeming non sequitor spam comment soliciting consumers for penile enhancement, our conception of reality has been, yes, enhanced!
    And so, in this spirit, on Charlico.com /blog, I saw suddenly how I would be able to enhance this wedding party’s reality.
    If allowed to reach its full potential, the blog and its commenters could be, I thought, yes, a harbinger of beautiful things to come, for I saw quite clearly that the wedding blog’s comments existed for me, in order to facilitate my role within Charli’s life.
    The comments were a gift from the gnosis , delivered so I could have the opportunity to not only be of use to the young, but to cleanse my soul of clinging problems of the past.
    Thus, with hopes high, still unaware of the pyramid’s exact dimension or how exactly I would perform, once again, the role of point X, I began my initiative.
    Happy?
    Yes.
    But even in those delirious hours, despite my happiness, I sensed a lurking evil.
    Something was not quite right.
    It was as if, hidden beneath the floorboards of our meticulously constructed yet still tenuous shelter, the carcass of some dead mammal sat decomposing in a riot of flies, maggots, and brainy juice, out of sight of casual onlookers, threatening to undermine with its rot whatever foundation might have been established above.
    How could I tell something was wrong?
    Easy.
    After every true comment I made, a snide, mocking tone emerged from the false commenters in response, first from just one, then from another, and then commenter after commenter began chortling at my (correction: our ) earnest striving toward a better tomorrow, as if I/we were a kind of amusing mascot rather than a sage.
    Being a sensitive sort, as well as a seasoned hand at online discussion, I did not simply “let it go,” as I have often been advised to do.
    Oh, yes, how many times have I been told to ignore my feelings, bottle them up, and simply skip on down the path to another web community.
    I can even hear you now—“ Web community? What about life away from the computer? A family? A garden? Go for a walk! Ride a bike! Get away from the screen!”
    You can never know it, but how cruel such remarks are to me.
    You see, I cannot.
    There are reasons, even those besides the fact that when I do journey to different web communities I feel—no, I know!—that the impetuous twerp Chris Novtalis is on Charlico.com /blog working away to undo all of my efforts.
    He’s fanning the flames of rumor, innuendo, and, yes, a legal term is necessary: defamation.
    He wouldn’t have an online community—a reason to live?—if it weren’t for me, but he goes on day after day taunting me.
    He deploys the letters of my name in muddled anagrammical jibes at my character, he reworks my carefully wrought language in pathetic efforts to take credit for my ideas, and then, of course, he makes direct attacks on my good name and character.
    Chris, this peasant of a man, telling his vast and undeserved audience that I am “psychotic” and “boring” and “not even a part of the wedding.”
    Boring!
    Is that a capital offense now?
    God forbid I would bore such a fertile mind as that bloodsucker has!
    Boring!
    From such a racist, sexist, classist, ageist Neanderthal I suppose I should see that as a compliment!
    But, alas, I cannot.
    I see it for what it is: a base and degrading insult from an inferior.
    Do you want to know what happens when I try to “move on,” as you suggest?
    Do you?
    Well, I’ll tell you.
    I get heart palpitations.
    I get night sweats.
    I’m sure I run a fever (though I haven’t confirmed due to a childhood trauma involving thermometers).
    A heavy, static-filled succubus sits on my neck, jams its arm down my throat, and stops up my breath until I