Fulfilling a Request to Be Written About
29 December 2009 § 2 Comments
In the food court, which vaguely reminds one of the medieval portrayal of royal feasts – savage nobles scrambling for the grapes and liver and chicken breast, swords clanking, mouths chattering and chewing, the jester dancing to a violin’s tune (amplified from the device in some child’s pocket) – she laughs and sits on the floor and talks about medical school and the nostalgic satisfaction of mall food.
The room is a school cafeteria, tastefully decorated with corporate logos as ensnaring as their products. They are accompanied by apathetic teenagers making overpriced but fresh smoothies from bananas and strawberries canned in sugar syrup. When asked a question, the smoothie girl rattles off a customer-friendly, textbook answer to the spoon-filled cup as if she were annoyed the inquirer existed at all. This possibility is not unlikely.
Scents wafting into clothing stores – whose names are often mentioned in glamourous movies filmed in New York – range from celebrity fragrances to fried food (one cannot be any more specific; it is an amalgamation of American delicacies) and pizza, which is cold because shoppers explore the maze of occupied tables like vultures with meals in hand, circling those almost finished, irritated when beaten to the punch. There is a palpable need for normality, acceptance: a table, a chair, a napkin, social gathering, ketchup, mustard, salt, pepper, a digital camera to document this momentous event, for it will be remembered throughout the dregs of the internet forever, posted on networking websites ad finitum.
Yes, she smiles and says to write about her and sunshine while being sold tickets (admission, punishment – what’s the difference?), natural solutions for make-up ‘problems’ that reek of chemical warfare, nail-polishing men wearing incredibly fashionable shoes (looks like Velcro is back!), those fashionable shoes themselves, coffee, assembly line cultural carvings, bestselling books, ice cream, video games, diamonds, muscle milk… Breathe.
This is perfection, after all, and we will feed you hypocrisy and lingerie until you hold hamburgers in one hand and weight loss products in the other. Images of the mentally disabled, scantily clad, will float in your mind until you will need to be them. Because this is who you must be, lest you fail to be accepted.
By me. Buy me.