mocking bird

it amazes me to be typing here in front of my laptop, comfortable as i am in my shorts and tube top. it amazes me to be able to witness the exact moment that the day turns to dusk and begins its' descent toward darkness.
or perhaps it's just that i'm been hibernating under the covers too much - the best times to fall into slumber are from the late mornings to the early afternoon, and then to get up a bit, read a murakami novel in bed, and then fall asleep again with your hair across your face, dreaming of norobu watayas, torus, creta and malta kanos, kumikos, birds that wind their springs, working in wig factories, men with faceless faces, hotel rooms, and of course, cutty sark.
and by the next time you rouse, it's already past seven, the skies are grey and dark and no more birds sing. the leaves of trees outside your window look unusually dark in the dimness and you don't bother to look harder at them. the leaves never change in reality anyway. or even if they did, like grow an extended network of veins overnight, you wouldn't know the difference.
you may shuffle along the cold white tiles in your bare feet, contemplate having a bath, then decide that it is probably not worth the trouble since you have been lying in bed all day anyway. and quickly, dusk slips into blissful darkness.
at night, i may wander around the house, looking at things around the house - the antique vase in the corner - i've never noticed its' existence before! the magazines dating back to 1991, i idly pick them up and flip through them. things that came through the mail and are lying in a heap upon the floor. i pick them up and read through bits and pieces of letters, bills, ads. crumpled receipts in my bag, long forgotten - not! i uncrumple them, smooth them out and read them - cashier's name? date? item bought? i recall and try and think what i'd bought, purchased, what i did that day, factors that led to the purchase of that item. and when i'm done with the skimming through of the receipts, i look into the shoe cabinets. i like to buy pretty shoes that i almost never ever wear - i'm the sort of person who can wear a single pair of shoes to death. that's why that single pair of shoes must go with practically everything in my wardrobe. which isn't difficult, considering that i'm such a blah-dresser. black, whites, greys. never the bohemian, though i'd once gone through a jappy dresser stage a month or two back. rouge, eyeliner, kohl, red streaks and the like. but anyway. shoes. pretty laced ones, wedges, pink heels, ballerina lookalikes. sandals. in a variety of colours, sizes, even. i buy and hog, and almost never wear them out. i run my fingers over the pretty texture - shoes from hongkong and london, the touch brings to mind a memory. and i stare, fixated at everything else unfolding in front of me - this is what i like to see - elements of my past life being brought to life just by thinking, reminising.
and when searching in my own house no longer suffices, i just grab the keys to the car and run downstairs and get into the car and blast Cassie's Me and You and usually, the first place i head to is Astro hotel at the east side and i get out of the car and gaze across the drab carpark. then i get back into the car and make a slow drive this time across the singapore river and gaze at the majestic buildings, hotels and skyscrapers and i wonder what i'm doing while getting all the way there.
in that same breath i'd head back home and sated, i'd fall asleep in the hall, without a comforter this time, with the balcony door half open and the sounds of the first birds chirping in the air.
and so, another day passed.