Hanging out at the mall
Things are getting stormier and stormier. I sort-of stopped smoking last Friday. I sort-of lapsed on Monday. I sort-of don’t want to turn this into an addiction-kicking monkey blog.
I’ve started hanging out in shopping malls because you can’t smoke there. Also, I am becoming more and more fascinated with them as a project of sorts. Not quite of the magnitude of Walter Benjamin’s Arcades Project, but something kind of like it—only a bit more visual.
I once thought that Southern California had the most highly developed plastic-shopping-mall culture. I’m now pretty sure that the great white north has them beat. When the weather is awful six months out of the year, the sort of indoor culture provided by malls is not just a teenage phenomenon anymore.
