Yesterday I
had to visit
a bastion of
American
consumerism
at it’s
most
decadent, and
it was
gross. I visited
a Mall.
It had been
a terribly long
time since I
went to a mall
and walked
through the
various concourses
and food
courts
surrounded by…
the people.
I’m sure
they are all
just regular
folks, just
trying to
make their
way in the
world,
but there was
just
something
about them
that made me
feel sad.
I deny
things to myself.
I rarely buy
things I don’t need.
I rarely buy
things I do need.
I’d rather
shovel coal than
shop. Yet I was surrounded
by people’s insatiable
hunger for stuff
at every
turn.
New this,
new that, neo-retro,
new tech, buy it, buy it, buy it,
buy it all.
Now. Do it. Get it.
hang it,
play it, stuff it, fuck it,
eat it, cook
it, ram it down your
throat and
for God’s sake use
the in store
discount.
I was only
killing time while I
bought new
tires and the mall
just
happened to be there.
I couldn’t
stand it after one full
walking
circuit of the mall
grounds and
it was killing
me.
I like nice
things. I’m fascinated
by nifty
convenient gadgets and
fun
trinkets, I just don’t want to
have to look
for them on the
killing
fields of the mall. Or
surrounded
by mall walkers,
which are
worse than Zombies
or vampires
or werewolves.
They
shuffle, stroll, amble,
mosey
without direction or
purpose as
slow as they possibly
can, in
front of you. Even without
purpose I
still walk pretty quickly.
I have a
funny walk as it is. So there’s no
need to
advertise it.
But the
people with eyes filled
with
glittering dollar signs, teenage
girls
wearing little to nothing in line
at the mall
Starbucks ordering coffee
drinks I’m
sure 13 year olds shouldn’t.
Teenage boys
looking thuggish in
sleeveless
tees and droopy shorts,
baseball
caps pulled low over their eyes
so no one
can seem them stare with lust
at the
Victoria’s Secret store.
Over-stimulated
parents in a sea
of
bewilderment over the new hot
item that
just has to be purchased no
matter the
cost. I navigated my way through
it as a deep
sea diver would comb the sea bed.
Slow,
trudging, in the murky depths of
colorful
signs demanding my money for stuff.
I was glad
to leave. I was glad for my cynicism.
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