memory bank

i spend my days at the library now, angry at them for only letting me use the computer for one hour even though no one is waiting in line. i stand at the desk staring, tapping my chanel loafers, like, hello, no ones even using them please just bend the rules for me.
but it seems that no one bends the rules these days, no one catches a break. when something good happens its by sheer force, not luck, not karma, but will determination. you want that mountain to move you better move it yourself.
im doing things i never thought id do. im an unbearable person to be around and i cry at everything. my guard is down, my walls, so carefully built up are around my ankles, in piles like rocks on the path up bernal hill, dont walk around here in the dark without shoes on, you will get hurt, nothing is safe here anymore.
im not an old maid though and so today i wear a short skirt and my legs are pale november, pull up lime green knee socks, swipe on hot pink lipstick, there will be a time, an age this isnt appropriate anymore. but not now. now is the time to be all young and wild and carefree. i had forgotten that, had gotten so serious with myself.
im going through all these emails, trying to prepare this zine, a blog, a song, a book, a notion, trying to make something out of all of this and i find some things that surprise me, that make me reemmber who i am. i want to make a booklet, something to carry around with my sisters songs, and your lips when your sleeping, like a bow, and vitos smell, his puppy paws and how warm he is all snuggled up tight, i want my friends perfumes and their laughter, the sound of our voices against streetlights and heels on pavement, beating this city down, take that city, take THAT. how do i get all those things wrapped up into one feeling? how come no one tries to write the intangible? or do we, can we? im going to try.