the morning is haunting, if it's cold. the dark and the cool, i breathe better mentally if the outside condition is as such. wasted morning time, but i showered and listened to music. mingyao gave me a truckload of love. wilco/jack johnson/sondre lerche/nada surf/the postal service/oasis/the killers/jet/the shins/pizzicato five/the oc mix five. on sunday we drove down orchard road with the wind in our faces and pizzicato five blasting out travelling sounds, like a chime, breezing and freezing our faces with love of the light, the lightness of japanese jazz, very ye-ye girl type buzz. we were up in love, up in faith and up with the sunny side of things. salty chicken rice and escalator rides. a haagan daaz ice cream cone one for each on us i got semi-drunk (i like to think that, perhaps it was the lurrrve) on my scoop of black brandied cherry. i live and breathe, but i want to live and breathe.

yesterday i had a phonecall while shopping for christmas presents (by the way, song and kelly is having a sale at wisma, i saw a gorgeous green satin top with asymmetrical straps round the neck and diagonal lines but decided the fit wasn't so good but i got myself a very light pink spagetti strap semi-loose top with scrunched up patterns below the bust and near the waist at a seventy percent discount. must mention this because a shopper's high must not be underestimated) when mingyao called me (mingyao on the phone! halt again, world!) and said he was nearby. so i was broswing through the books (mountains of books at borders! the glory of it all!) and someone came from behind and gave me a squeeze and presented me with a little box of irish cream chocolate sticks. another us thing we discovered together in another chapter involving a cinema and supermarket tripping. and so we had a little impromptu date for an hour where we sat eating irish cream chocolate sticks and sat outside borders on the kerb facing the orchard green, through the external wheelock square apertures, one of the quiet places in a sale-crazy place to sip on can drinks and gaze lovingly at each other (oh cut the cheese already, but i don't care! muahaha) and banter like old friends, best friends, new friends, lovers and strangers that click in the stir of the afternoon shade with books behind us. very woody allen i'd like to think.

rambles. you must be very productive today! says me to myself. do not let my brain and existence stagnate. and aim for a swim tonight. i do love pulling in the waters though i don't dig the chlorine. thirty laps non stop make for very achy breaky thighs but i love that. i've written out and sent all my christmas cards, more than fifty in all and written essays in all of them. i'm vain about this, but i do love my own handwriting. it's painterly.