I hate strip malls, but that’s about it. I’m serious.
Some think of me as cynical. But actually, I believe in people and they constantly surprise me.
Right now I’m at a strip mall in Costa Mesa. I’m in a Mexican Restaurant. The food is delicious, but somehow since I’m at a strip mall the food is not as tasty. I don’t know why. Why do I hate strip malls so much?
One reason is that they are so impermanent. I guess everything is impermanent, but strip malls bleed impermanence. Whenever I visit a strip mall in a city I’ve never been, I can’t tell if that strip mall was built last month or last century.
Also strip malls are so totally generic. Every strip mall reminds me of other strip malls I’ve been to. And I’ve been to many. And I get them mixed up. And the memories get jumbled together. The sensation is like a mix between motion sickness, vertigo and something else that also makes me want to barf.
But yes, people surprise me. I’ve been surprised at how kind others have been since I was fired. Many have informed me of job openings, or have found other ways to be supportive.
A lot of people want to be kind, but it’s not always obvious how to do so. Also, a lot of people want to be visited more than they are. It works out well for me since I like visiting others more often than I do. Road trips are good is what I’m saying.
But I used to make a lot more money. On the other end of the spectrum from those being kind post-employment, there are some who feel I have nothing to offer them now. Their thoughts are obvious based on the way they treat me. Using their own social ladder, they have decided there is no way for them to use me now. They are wrong because in most cases I’d be happy to let them use my body.
Across the parking lot from where I am seated is Kmart. I didn’t even know they still had those.
Kmart was like, the official strip mall store in the 80s. My grandfather would take my cousin and I there to eat lunch sometimes. It would be when my cousin was visiting from England. Inevitably I would get yelled at.
“Alright boys, it’s time for lunch. Where do you want to want to eat?” my grandfather would ask.
“McDonald’s!” I would say. I loved McDonald’s.
“Hmm. No. Let’s go to Kmart,” my grandfather would conclude.
My cousin, both British and a butt kisser would chime in with his stupid accent. “Oh ok! Kmart! I like Kmart! Kmart tastes great, Grandpa!”
I would start laughing. “Kmart?! Kmart!? Who eats at Kmart? Do they even have food there? Pardon me while I slip this paper bag over my head so that no one sees me.”
I was not my grandfather’s favorite.
Before Costa Mesa I was in Buena Park. I stayed with a married couple who were very kind to me and told me not to write about them. Or well, one of them told me that. Before Buena Park I visited my father in Los Angeles. And now I am in Costa Mesa staying with a novelist who is cuter than I remembered. I’m sure she wants me to write about her.
Right outside the window here, a feather is hovering. I look away because I don’t want to see it hit the ground.
4 responses so far ↓
1 Anddy // Apr 12, 2009 at 12:10 am
wha? I didn’t say anything like that…
It was great having you down here man, you are a pretty cool dude and can come again whenever you please. I enjoy remembering things you say–which no matter whats reminds me of the secret ninja base above my computer at CIPIC.
ps. if you want to wake up for lunch again next time, let us know so we know not to wait up for you for breakfast
2 Ian Ian // Apr 13, 2009 at 9:51 am
Anddy – Yeah, I said “One of them told me that.” And you weren’t the one
See you in about a month.
3 aaa // Apr 16, 2009 at 10:47 pm
That feather reminds me of Forrest Gump
4 Bowman // Apr 27, 2009 at 12:58 pm
aaa – You remind of someone that used to tell me not to go get drunk at Raiders games.
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