![]() The streets were like fine necklaces and strung together were the brownstone houses and tall condominiums and tiny mansions like pearls, and when the day broke and the sun faded away, their lights burned like jewels shining gaudily in the night. The "Gold Coast" was a neighborhood that stretched five blocks along the lake in a sliver of land just south of Lincoln Park and north of River North. Shortly before school started, I moved into a studio apartment on a quiet street near the bustle of the downtown in one of the most self-conscious bends of the world. ![]() ![]() I felt trapped, stranded it seemed there had to be a choice where there couldn't be a choice. I wanted men to love me, and I wanted to think of the universe when I looked at the moon. Moreover I did not want to be like my mother, with her virginal brusqueness, her innocence. And women like my mother were in the minority, I could see that. I knew if I showed it to my mother she would say, "Oh it is just that maddening male nonsense, women have no brains." That would not convince me surely a New York psychiatrist must know. It was clear to me at once that I was not thinking as a girl thought the full moon would never as long as I lived remind me to wash my hair. The boy thinks of the universe, its immensity and mystery the girl thinks, "I must wash my hair." When I read this I was frantically upset I had to put the magazine down. He said the difference between the male and female modes of thought were easily illustrated by the thoughts of a boy and girl, sitting on a park bench, looking at the full moon.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |