The End of an Era?
It seems strange to me that I've been doing this zine for over two years now. In the spring of 1995 I was struck with Hank fever and I needed an outlet. I was only a casual zine reader and the thought of putting out my own had never even crossed my mind. Meanwhile, I was accumulating quite a collection of Henry Thomas pictures, articles, statistics, facts, you name it. It was a mania of the first order and I was loving it. For a change, I'd turned my focus from obsessing about ordinary strangers to well-known ones. Though on the surface this seems equally unreasonable and pointless, it may have been a step in a new healthy direction. Where I once spent unusual amounts of time and energy on getting the attention of undeserving boys, I was now honing a whole new type of detective skill. I turned my love of stalking into a hobby of sorts. A hobby that hurt no one and for the most part was unobtrusive. A fixation that was more straightforward or even understandable to some, but one that ultimately left me with the same feeling of "what do I do now?".
Scaredy-cat stalking follows the same pattern no matter who the subject is. Whether they are the boy next door or Screech off "Saved by the Bell", makes little difference. The range of emotions remains the same, it's only the tactics that need modifying in each case. The typical progression goes something like this:
1). While going about your day to day routine an unsuspecting individual catches your attention.
2). You become consumed with the very thought of him (or her, but let's stick with "him" for now). It's not a completely unpleasant state to be in.
3). You then devise all sorts of ridiculous schemes to make him notice you. Examples:
a). Find where his grandmother lives and do her yardwork. Eventually he'll have to pay a visit--and boy, won't he be surprised.
b). Go to his place of employment ten times a day, sporting different outfits and wigs each time. He'll be amazed at your spunk and versatility.
c). Craft an alien costume from discarded egg cartons and show up at his doorstep at 4:00 a.m. Play a little bugle and in your best high-pitched, unearthly voice chant, "come with me". If and when he comes to the door, run like hell.
4). None of these work so you become more blatant and crafty in your secret pursuit. Meanwhile you are becoming more and more irrational and simultaneously infatuated. There is no going back now. He will love you. He does love you--he just doesn't know it yet.
5). Permeate his existence. Ingrain yourself in his subconscious. Whatever you do, don't talk to him or engage in any normal I'd-like-to-get-to-know-you behavior. This stage can last for weeks or even years.
6). Something has to give at some point. Waiting is excruciating. Either you slip up and he discovers you or you confess in a grand fashion.
7). He becomes disturbed. After the initial feeling of being flattered, he is repulsed by the unwanted attention. A relationship does not occur at this point. Stalkees are never attracted to their stalkers (obviously, or else they would've simply approached you first).
8). Post-stalking depression sets in. Some flounder about in a half-hearted attempt to still win their obsession over. Denial is not uncommon.
9). Thoughts of revenge enter your blossoming criminal mind. Maybe you'd like to pee on their windshield, physically threaten their loved ones, or put an "I smell like poop" sticker on their back. The possibilities are only as limited as your imagination (mine is perpetually focused on bathroom humor).
10). Continue the above until you find a new stalkee to occupy your time. Under no circumstances get a boy/girlfriend. Real relationships can be distracting and you'll lose your edge.
Right now I'm sort of between steps 9 and 10. I never thought that I, of all people would have a problem finding someone to stalk in a hardcore fashion. Though I promised it would never come to this, I've just about had it with Hank Thomas Jr. Really, I've had it with a lot of things. Unfortunately, I have no one to rightfully take his place, and this is what saddens me the most. This is the paradox that has been silently eating away at me since the birth of "S.C.S". What happens when you make your secrets public information? Do you continue acting as you've always acted and relay new developments as they come along, building up your stalker repertoire? This was my intent, sprinkling a few past escapades in my zine while working up to sharing current obsessions with ordinary folk. I had no idea that this plan would backfire. A deserving stalkee has not crossed my path in two years! I don't know if I jinxed myself by being so open about my fixations or if in the process of writing about them I've become rational and healthy. I mean now and then I see cute guys, but I rarely freak out. In fact, I might actually talk to them or at least get enough of a sense of them to figure out that I don't really like them as much as I thought I did. Some may say this is a good thing. A mature thing. Well, that's just great. What people might not understand is that I like stalking. It's fun. By being such a confessor/blabber-mouth all my neurotic behavior has started to pass out of my system and now I'm in a pickle.
The repercussions this may have on future "S.C.S."'s is still to be seen. I'll admit that I'm a little nervous, and not just because of my Hank disillusionment. I started this zine at a time when I had an insane amount of free-time. I was unemployed and had nowhere to live, "S.C.S." was a fun distraction. Lately, I've been feeling strangely bogged-down. It's ahrd to say whether this is due to internal or external forces, maybe neither. Hopefully, this won't be a permanent situation since I'd like to keep up "S.C.S." in some form or another. It just seems like there's such an overabundance of zines these days that I should try my hand at something new and different (what exactly, I have no idea). Maybe I'm just having some sort of pre-life crisis. I don't feel much better off than I did two years ago. Something's got to change. What seemed o.k. and tolerable at 22 is starting to seem pointless and ridiculous at 24 (soon to be 25 on the 25th--my double b-day! I'm so excited. Really). I guess I don't want people thinking I'm one of those crazy gen X slackers. Yes, I'm overreacting, but I have to have something to worry about.
Meanwhile, don't let the death theme of this issue scare you, I'm not ready to give up on this business quite yet. I'm always bursting at the seams and I already have a bunch of ideas for a new issue. When it will make an appearance is the question. I guess I'll just have to wait and see what happens.
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