20040821
retail hangout
when i've nothing else to do, i travel the half hour train and bus ride to downtown chicago, where the apple store waits along with a host of other retail stores waiting for my purchase. it's extremely entertaining, to while away your moments browsing web sites at the apple store and recharging at almost $10 a sandwhich and 12 oz. frappuccino drink at starbucks. it's entertaining, deciphering authors whose works clamour their way into your ears and vie their way into your mind. it's entertaining, deciding whether wao bao siopao would do for now or your leftover starbucks sandwhich is better.
but most of the time in and out of these stores, i wonder where everyone else is, what they're doing and where they're staying at this afternoon and evening. i imagine a houseparty of music and food, but mostly talking, of whiling away moments and doing nothing. i compare that with the books that i've purchased and the web sites i've visited and the cartaking i've done to get my computer fixed and my library replenished and my mind enriched by a moment alone in a coffeeshop with a book i really want to read. i compare that with a class i took this saturday morning i had to wake up early for, and i wonder which is the better time spent?
evening comes and the stores close, there's the television, the DVD, the ice cream and the internet to keep my busy. there are the books that wait for me. there are the chatbuddies that call for me. and i wonder, i wonder, if my life could have been any richer if i spent it with real people outside my family, real people outside my worklike, real people outside my youth groups. surely real people created these imacs and ibooks and powerbooks. surely real people designed these clothes and wrote these matchless books. surely real people sell these items.
"i'm excited," i share with monique, whose eyes narrow and eyebrows shoot to the ceiling. barron later tells me that they do work at a great bookstore, but at $7 per hour, could barely make ends meet. still the few weeks previous, i don't think i deserved monique's contempt - for jarring me lately, after trying to talk to these salesclerks and these librarians and these repair geniuses, i wonder how real their conversations are with me. there is nothing between us beyond business. there is nothing i really want with them outside business.
save for a few. there is entusiastic molly who showed me her favorites from the sale stack at border's. there's sensible andrea who said my sleeves were all right, but the jean jacket's length to my hips is rather over. there's nugat who helped me to a fitting room, there's kim who asked me if everything's all right. you distinguish shallow from deep, even if you're talking about coetzee. you mine the deep and go deeper, and become expert at speed.
"how was everything for you today," daniel asked as i checked my books out. "fabulous," i said, mimicking hollywood and praying i don't fall further into that trap. four hours earlier i drank in the upbeat music and the colorful paperbacks stacked like clothes in a shelf, uncaring whether you read them through or read the first page through. up and down the escalators, looking for the pages and the music and clothes to change me. shopping as entertainment has morphed into expensive education itself. disembodied voices woo me in pages, imagined suitors size me up in clothing racks. you never know when a friend might call for the club.
"hella fun. thank you." daniel then slides my credit card into the cashier slot. my purchase is complete. he stamps a coupon and punches a card. he slides back my card and wishes me a good day. and then he calls out, "next!" ¶ 8/21/2004 07:21:00 PM
but most of the time in and out of these stores, i wonder where everyone else is, what they're doing and where they're staying at this afternoon and evening. i imagine a houseparty of music and food, but mostly talking, of whiling away moments and doing nothing. i compare that with the books that i've purchased and the web sites i've visited and the cartaking i've done to get my computer fixed and my library replenished and my mind enriched by a moment alone in a coffeeshop with a book i really want to read. i compare that with a class i took this saturday morning i had to wake up early for, and i wonder which is the better time spent?
evening comes and the stores close, there's the television, the DVD, the ice cream and the internet to keep my busy. there are the books that wait for me. there are the chatbuddies that call for me. and i wonder, i wonder, if my life could have been any richer if i spent it with real people outside my family, real people outside my worklike, real people outside my youth groups. surely real people created these imacs and ibooks and powerbooks. surely real people designed these clothes and wrote these matchless books. surely real people sell these items.
"i'm excited," i share with monique, whose eyes narrow and eyebrows shoot to the ceiling. barron later tells me that they do work at a great bookstore, but at $7 per hour, could barely make ends meet. still the few weeks previous, i don't think i deserved monique's contempt - for jarring me lately, after trying to talk to these salesclerks and these librarians and these repair geniuses, i wonder how real their conversations are with me. there is nothing between us beyond business. there is nothing i really want with them outside business.
save for a few. there is entusiastic molly who showed me her favorites from the sale stack at border's. there's sensible andrea who said my sleeves were all right, but the jean jacket's length to my hips is rather over. there's nugat who helped me to a fitting room, there's kim who asked me if everything's all right. you distinguish shallow from deep, even if you're talking about coetzee. you mine the deep and go deeper, and become expert at speed.
"how was everything for you today," daniel asked as i checked my books out. "fabulous," i said, mimicking hollywood and praying i don't fall further into that trap. four hours earlier i drank in the upbeat music and the colorful paperbacks stacked like clothes in a shelf, uncaring whether you read them through or read the first page through. up and down the escalators, looking for the pages and the music and clothes to change me. shopping as entertainment has morphed into expensive education itself. disembodied voices woo me in pages, imagined suitors size me up in clothing racks. you never know when a friend might call for the club.
"hella fun. thank you." daniel then slides my credit card into the cashier slot. my purchase is complete. he stamps a coupon and punches a card. he slides back my card and wishes me a good day. and then he calls out, "next!" ¶ 8/21/2004 07:21:00 PM
