Andrea Dworkin - The New Womans Broken Heart

for right now Im reading a book that says women can reproduce

parthenogenetically. its a biology book so I have reason to hope for

the best, frankly Im just going to curl up with that book in any existential position I can manage and concentrate on knocking myself up. I never did like that crap about the child being father to the

man.

how seasons pass

there was a woman, she was a big woman and she was a sad

woman, she had been in her life to the mountains and to the ocean,

she had seen the sand, she did not go to the desert.

she had never been sad before, she had felt everything else, she had

been very smart all the years she was growing up. she had had big

beautiful eyes, she had opened her legs a lot. she didnt remember

much of all that.

she had been very powerful, she had absorbed all the men she

knew into her, one by one, two by two, then, as time passed, three by

three and four by four, she remembered her husband, she

remembered her first love, she remembered the first 4 men even

when she forgot the rest.

sometimes she would walk down the street, then she would see a

face that remembered her. she walked faster then.

when she was married she had a dog and a cat. she did not think

much of people then, each day she thought less of people.

her friends liked her a lot. they thought that she was strong, they

were good to her. sometimes they touched her. sometimes they fed

her. sometimes they put on a record, sometimes they walked

with her.

her friends gave her money, because she was poor, her friends

always cared what happened to her. the more they cared, the less she

let them know, the more they cared, the sadder she became.

she never betrayed her friends, she never betrayed strangers, she

had a code, she wanted to be good, she wanted to be strong, she

wanted to feel everything all the time, and she wanted to feel so

much all at once that she would die young, and never have to grow

old and never have to live all those years, she wanted to pack everything into a short space of time, her first goal was 19. then she became 19, and she didnt die. it surprised her. nothing had ever surprised her like that.

when she didnt die at 19 she became confused, so she got married,

when she got married she wanted to live to be 80. that was her goal,

so she dressed well then, and made a schedule, and fed her husband,

and talked politely to his friends, and was faithful, and kept the

house clean.

soon she was in great pain, soon she was so lonely, soon she woke

up, made the beds, cleaned the house, did the laundry, made the

dinner, did the dishes, watched television, and went to sleep, soon he

stopped coming home, and soon they stopped making love, and soon

she knew she would live to be 80, and she didnt want that anymore.

so she left her husband, and she was poor again, and this time she

thought 33.

she liked movies and books and music, it was harder to like

people.

she liked animals and she liked to talk to old people, she asked

them where they had been and how they had lived, she asked them

who they were and what had happened to them over the years.

she was poor, and she went to the city, she remembered the mountains and the ocean and she remembered that she had never seen the desert.

in the city there was great pain and suffering, in the city there were

poor people and hungry people and angry people and brutal people,

in the city she sat alone, in the city she was alone.

everything changed, all day long she was alone, everything was different. all day long she was alone, everything changed, she was big and she was sad.

now there were young boys, now they were young and soft and unsure. now they were children that she turned to, one by one, then two by two, and as the days passed, three by three and four by four.

there was a special one. he was short, and he smiled, he had 2

dogs, she didnt have any power anymore, she had given it all away,

she didnt have any power and she wanted young boys.

the special one lived near her. he hung out on the street, he liked

the violence of the street, he was very young, he would feel it in the

air and smile his smile and wait for it to happen, she liked him and

she was afraid.

he wanted her to come to him. he asked her many times, each time

she smiled sadly, she had something to do. she was tired, in the heat

of that summer she was dirty, her feet had blisters, her skin had

boils, her sadness was in her like a lump blocking her throat hurting

her breast choking inside her chest.

each day she passed him on the street, each day he smiled and

called to her. each day he asked her to come see him. each day she

wanted him more and more, each day she sat alone and walked her

dog and read from a book and listened to music, each day she was

busy, each day they smiled at each other and he asked her to come to

him and she said I will and she did not.

then one day she did. she remembered the mountains and the

ocean and the desert she had not seen and the power she had had.

she went to him and he smiled at her and he was her lover and because she was sad she became more sad. and because he was young and soft and unsure she became more sad.

they walked down the street sometimes, sometimes they were in his

room, sometimes they took his 2 dogs and her 1 dog to the park.

then the winter came and he was not very young anymore, she was

still sad and still he was her lover, sometimes they laughed together,

she did not go to him anymore,

when the spring came she left the city,

she went to the mountains,

she was alone there.

when the summer came she let a young boy who lived in the mountains make love to her. her sadness returned again and worse, when the fall came she began to wait for the snows,

when the snows came she took long walks.

she had her dog, and a wood stove, and she loved the trees and the

snow, she loved her solitude, and her sadness disappeared as the

snow melted.

when the spring came she wrote small fragile poems,

when the summer came she went into the city,

she was 27 now and the city was her mirror, she wore heavy boots

and she smoked cigarettes as she walked down the streets and she