Just came from the Gap; it's almost an entire block from my office. As I was leaving the store with a large blue paper bag full of jeans I probably should have had some help choosing, and three packs of overpriced white v-neck t-shirts--the kind my neighbor wore, the large-boned high school teacher who burned huge piles of leaves and refuse in his side yard, constantly, and stood watching it burn, sipping from a coffee mug, every weekend for my entire childhood--this necessary clothes shopping I'd put off for many months reminded me of lines from David Auburn's play "Proof." In the play, the daughter suggests cooking pasta for her ailing father, he says "It sounds so hopeless, like surrender: 'Pasta would be easy.'" and he throws his arms up as if being captured by the enemy. That's how I feel shopping at the Gap. I'm basically saying to the world, yes, I prefer to dress myself, but I'd like to exert the absolute least amount of effort possible. Or rather, I shouldn't be allowed to dress myself, but since I don't have a choice, I'll wear the same half-assed crap almost everybody else does. I don't mind paying x amount of my hard-earned cash, and I'd rather it not last very long.