I slept in a shopping mall on Christmas Eve. Seriously, I did. Since my mother just moved to a tiny condo, we stayed at a hotel in a fancy mall. Normally I feel out of the loop on Christmas (being Jewish and all), but this year I was smack dab in the middle of one of D.C.'s major shopping districts. Living above J.Crew and gazing out at the Bloomingdales in another mall across the street.
Like Caliban (but with wine from the Cheesecake Factory) I reveled in the material goodness of it all:
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices
That, if I then had wak'd after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming,
The clouds methought would open, and show riches
Ready to drop upon me, that, when I wak'd,
I cried to dream again. (The Tempest 3.2.133-39)
translation: I dreamed that J.Crew opened its doors on 12/26, and I was right there. There was a pile of marked-down cashmere sweaters, all in my size, and a smiling salesperson who was Russell Brand told me that they were actually free.
Good night, sweet prints:
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