GHOST CAPITAL
The regular business hours are
9 am to 9 pm.
The hours span the life of the commercial district; the pedestrians on their way to work or returning home, the loitering midday tourists, and the unemployed afternoon shopper. Even at my earliest visits, there have always been people mulling through the 30-40% off merchandise. But not many are leaving the store with purchases. Instead, an apathetic inspection, usually about 30-45 seconds per item, haunts the property like zombies capriciously exiting their gravesite. And the apathy toward the abject CDs or DVDs is
contagious. It isn’t just that each retail product is
a testament of the overproduction of entertainment media today or yesterday, but that the fellow shoppers pollinate your ambivalence by moving from one commodity object to the next, empty handed, silently baby-stepping out of others’ path of ambulation.
Nothing is purchased. Nothing.
Three variatations of Bach’s complete works ironically/paradoxically accompany each
Why am I here? Why are we here?
other on a shelf.
We midday shoppers peruse like we’ve time to kill, as if we know that this carrion will draw no other curiosity.