the 4am fever.

i went to the mall last saturday. the air was thick with people, last season's coats and vegan-leather wallets lined with crinkled dollar bills and scrimped ideas. there is a safeness in this sea of demography, as if the glass doors were magnetized to strip you of all deviance and coddle you safely in a sterile cocoon. even if you go with someone, you're always alone in a shopping centre. you're only thrown off by the occasional smog of the pan-asian cuisine booths in the food court, the hot MSG-tainted steam drifting languidly into your mind, seducing you and your $8.95 in change.

i went to the mall last saturday, and all i could think about was what it would be like to smash it to pieces. to throw my body against the 10 foot glass windows at the Gap. to completely trash the Applebee's in A14. to shop for shoes in privacy because holy fuck, the mall is on fire and there's no way in hell the Aldo staff are being paid enough to work through it. it's a private dream, but it gets me through the designer [waist]land without spending too much of my hard-earned cash. precious dollars that never seem to add up to a social equivalent. why can't $100 cash buy you an unconditional 5 minute conversation with a normal person? it seems like a fair trade to me. but then that would be prostitution, and it seems a little desperate i suppose. they say that streetwalkers get a sense of emotional emptiness. well, so does my wallet. it's called PURSEtitution and if you charge your cards right, you could enjoy it too.

I went to the mall last saturday and i asked the information desk if i would ever find someone that comes even close to being in love with me. the white-haired man asked me if i'd lost my parents. i found it more advisable to peruse the bleached hallways until i came across Build a Boy, the Frankenstein Affiliate of Build-a-Bear Corporation!. it seemed promising, but their stock was significantly depleted. other girls had pillaged it in a sale the day before.

"See girlie, whatcher lookin' for is a grade-A specimen. we don't get meny-a those types 'round these parts, so wurr usu'lly fresh outta them there thinkin' brains until friday. 'speshully right before the prom and all. as for the joke-tellin' add-on, i gotchu nothin'. sorry darlin', looks like you're goin' it alone or compromisin', and you ain't gonna like much-a either." The shop manager chewed noisily on a deathly mix of hayseed and chewing tobacco, commanding his snake oil with an indescribable poetry. it was admirable.

i went to the mall last saturday, and i think i'm just gonna chalk it up to pleasant loneliness and call it a day before i hurt myself. cocoons may be lonely, but at least i won't wither while i'm gestating.