I went to the mall today with Deirdre and Ethan to buy some birthday gifts for a special someone, and I noticed something: maybe it's Delaware, maybe it's America, maybe it's malls, but man, I became incredibly depressed being in that fucking mall.
A mall on a Thursday morning is one of the worst things I've ever seen. These giant empty caverns of commerce, staffed by bored and apathetic clerks, housewives seriously discussing the necessity of matching paper weights in Pottery Barn. Hung from the ceilings were directory banners, pictures of beautiful people enjoying product saturation, and under each photo was a description of the upcoming shops. And annoyingly, each list of shops ended with you, with a large banner at the bottom of the poster stressing that these stores "Define you." Or maybe it was "Defining you." Yes, because KB Toys and Talbots define me.
And then there are mall sounds. The kind of sounds you only hear in malls. The muffled tread of your feet on the fake marble floors. The vapid "conversation" among clerk and shopper. The distant laughter-chatter of the whole place that sounds like you're in a cafe the size of a football stadium. The careful crinkle of plastic bags filled with meaningless shit people buy to forget for a moment that they're unhappy.
Ah yes. Mall sounds.
But hey, I've got some pictures of the guerilla marketing Kwik-E-Mart in Hollywood! This blog is still funny, right? Guys?
I assure you the clerk in that one shot is purely intentional. More here.