People watching

As far as guilty pleasures go, people watching might be a little tame, but I'm still addicted anyways. You sit there, look around, seeing people going by, and it's like you're having hundreds and hundreds of tiny little one-sided affairs-- like you're a slutty ass peeping tom. Probably the best is when you're people watching and you notice another watcher. Then you try and watch them without them knowing, wondering if they're doing the same.

Malls are interesting things. They're like little microcosms of Las Vegas-- a civilization constructed out in the middle of nowhere. Wholly artificial despite tireless efforts to seem real. Clothes hung on mannequins and on models with impossibly 'perfect' features. Ever so pleasantly chilled stale air. Really, they personify the delusions of false grandeur that we're all still clinging to so desperately.

I was sitting at a C-Train station today downtown, watching the rush of people go by. I can't remember the last time it was like this: I had nowhere to be, no schedule to follow, no restrictions. It was... nice. Didn't have to talk, didn't have to listen, didn't have to use any of my pseudo-Carnegian, well, pseudo-charm.