bourgeois; like I
was too spoiled to take it. The pacifists thought if it was bad
for the prison in the newspapers it was good. But even after
the pacifists didn’t say, see, these girls hate the War. Even
these silly girls hate the War. Even the girl w h o ’s stupid
enough to type our letters and bring us coffee hates the War.
Even these dumb girls who walked through a door into hell
hate the War. Even these silly cunts we left in a torture pit
know ing full well they’d be hurt but so what hate the War.
They are too stupid to hate us but they hate the War. So stop
the War because these dregs, these nothings, these no ones,
these pieces we sent in to be felt up and torn up and have things
stuck in them hate the War. The peace boys laughed at me
when they found out I was hurt. It was funny, how some
bourgeois cunt couldn’t take it. They laughed and they spread
their legs and they fingered themselves. I w asn’t the one who
told them. I never told them. I couldn’t speak anym ore at all; I
was dumb or mute or however you say it, I didn’t have words
and I w ouldn’t say anything for any reason to anyone because I
was too hurt and too alone. I got out o f jail after four days and I
walked on the streets for some days and I said nothing to no
one until this nonviolence woman found me and made me say
what happened. She was a tough cookie in her ow n w ay which
was only half a pose. She cornered me and she w ouldn’t let me
go until I said what happened. Some words came out and then
all the ones I had but I didn’t know how to say things, like
speculum which I had never seen, so I tried to say what
happened thing by thing, describing because I didn’t know
what to call things, sometimes even with m y hands showing
her what I meant, and when it was over she seemed to
understand. The call girl got a jail sentence because the ju dge
said she had a history o f prostitution. The pacifists didn’t say
how she was noble to stand up against the War; or how she
was reformed or any other bullshit; they just all shivered and
shook when they found out she had been a call girl; and they
ju st let her go, quiet, back into hell; thirty days in hell for
trying to stop a nasty war; and the pacifists didn’t want to
claim her after that; and they didn’t help her after that; and they
didn’t want her in demonstrations after that. They let me drift,
a mute, in the streets, just a bourgeois piece o f shit who
couldn’t take it; except for the peace woman. She seemed to
understand everything and she seemed to believe me even
though I had never heard o f any such thing happening before
and it didn’t seem possible to me that it had happened at all.
She said it was very terrible to have such a thing happen. I had
to try to say each thing or show it with m y hands because I
couldn’t sum up anything or say anything in general or refer to
any common knowledge and I didn’t know what things were
or if they were important and I didn’t know if it was all right
that they did it to me or not because they did it to everyone
there, who were mostly whores except for one woman who
murdered her husband, and they were police and doctors and
so I thought maybe they were allowed to even though I
couldn’t stop bleeding but I was afraid to tell anyone, even
myself, and to m yself I kept saying I had m y period, even after
fifteen days. She called a newspaper reporter who said so
what? The newspaper reporter said it happens all the time
there that women are hurt just so bad or worse and remember
the woman who was tortured to death and so what was so
special about this? But the woman said the reporter was wrong
and it mattered so at first I started to suffocate because the
reporter said it didn’t matter but then I could breathe again
because the woman said it mattered and it couldn’t be erased
and you couldn’t say it was nothing. So I went from this
woman after this because I
was too spoiled to take it. The pacifists thought if it was bad
for the prison in the newspapers it was good. But even after
the pacifists didn’t say, see, these girls hate the War. Even
these silly girls hate the War. Even the girl w h o ’s stupid
enough to type our letters and bring us coffee hates the War.
Even these dumb girls who walked through a door into hell
hate the War. Even these silly cunts we left in a torture pit
know ing full well they’d be hurt but so what hate the War.
They are too stupid to hate us but they hate the War. So stop
the War because these dregs, these nothings, these no ones,
these pieces we sent in to be felt up and torn up and have things
stuck in them hate the War. The peace boys laughed at me
when they found out I was hurt. It was funny, how some
bourgeois cunt couldn’t take it. They laughed and they spread
their legs and they fingered themselves. I w asn’t the one who
told them. I never told them. I couldn’t speak anym ore at all; I
was dumb or mute or however you say it, I didn’t have words
and I w ouldn’t say anything for any reason to anyone because I
was too hurt and too alone. I got out o f jail after four days and I
walked on the streets for some days and I said nothing to no
one until this nonviolence woman found me and made me say
what happened. She was a tough cookie in her ow n w ay which
was only half a pose. She cornered me and she w ouldn’t let me
go until I said what happened. Some words came out and then
all the ones I had but I didn’t know how to say things, like
speculum which I had never seen, so I tried to say what
happened thing by thing, describing because I didn’t know
what to call things, sometimes even with m y hands showing
her what I meant, and when it was over she seemed to
understand. The call girl got a jail sentence because the ju dge
said she had a history o f prostitution. The pacifists didn’t say
how she was noble to stand up against the War; or how she
was reformed or any other bullshit; they just all shivered and
shook when they found out she had been a call girl; and they
ju st let her go, quiet, back into hell; thirty days in hell for
trying to stop a nasty war; and the pacifists didn’t want to
claim her after that; and they didn’t help her after that; and they
didn’t want her in demonstrations after that. They let me drift,
a mute, in the streets, just a bourgeois piece o f shit who
couldn’t take it; except for the peace woman. She seemed to
understand everything and she seemed to believe me even
though I had never heard o f any such thing happening before
and it didn’t seem possible to me that it had happened at all.
She said it was very terrible to have such a thing happen. I had
to try to say each thing or show it with m y hands because I
couldn’t sum up anything or say anything in general or refer to
any common knowledge and I didn’t know what things were
or if they were important and I didn’t know if it was all right
that they did it to me or not because they did it to everyone
there, who were mostly whores except for one woman who
murdered her husband, and they were police and doctors and
so I thought maybe they were allowed to even though I
couldn’t stop bleeding but I was afraid to tell anyone, even
myself, and to m yself I kept saying I had m y period, even after
fifteen days. She called a newspaper reporter who said so
what? The newspaper reporter said it happens all the time
there that women are hurt just so bad or worse and remember
the woman who was tortured to death and so what was so
special about this? But the woman said the reporter was wrong
and it mattered so at first I started to suffocate because the
reporter said it didn’t matter but then I could breathe again
because the woman said it mattered and it couldn’t be erased
and you couldn’t say it was nothing. So I went from this
woman after this because I
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