Lost in frustration over Lost In Translation

Since I read ‘bout her once in a Vogue magazine, I’ve been anticipatin to watch one of her films. But Sophia Coppola had juz disappointed me. Her most recent award-winning & award-nominating film is ‘bout two American characters in Tokyo –one who is an old actor & tha other a young devoted Yalie wife- who were prolly tha recipients of tha title ‘lost in translation’. How about usin tha adjectives clueless and prissily enduring instead? So both Americans were lonely. One sits around in her panty all tha time waitin fo’ her husband while tha other one has no friends & practices golf in his hotel room fo’ leisure. Tha lady’s preference fo’ pink signifies shez romantic & that she prolly loves her husband more than he does she. So wut? There are prolly a lot more symbolisms which I diden get because of too much subtlety or sumthin! But can I help it if I hate subtlety? I hate subtlety or people who whisper in front of ya, fo’ that matter, same as those who pretend to say sumthin to another when really they be aimin atcha wit God knows fo’ wutevr purpose! And lastly peepz who start to say sumthin to yer face then change their minds & juz tell ya to forget ‘bout it leavin ya to think wit thoughts ‘bout yerself even worse than wutevr unspillable crap they had in mind. I like thangs to be said upfront. Either I’m dense or else I like people to be tactless like me, tho’ sumtyms I do git credited [spesh by sean] fo’ bein paranoid or extremely sensitive & emo[ma schizo half anyway]. Anyway, goin back to tha film, tha two lonely Americans, all platonic till tha end, ends tha film wit a triumphant smack on tha lips before walkin’ away to diff’rent directions, wit an invisible caption that wud’ve read “Now that they’ve kiss’d, they’re ready to face tha world.” And so that’s it. And I can’t pretend to like it albeit tha awards. I don’t.