You have to understand that you are a sad woman.
You will never be anything else.
It’s not a bad thing,
It doesn’t mean you can’t ever be happy.
It just means that you feel things so incredibly deeply that they linger even when they’re gone.
It isn’t cool or trendy,
It just is, you are sad.
It exists wherever you are despite the love and the happiness you feel,
despite the weather, despite the sweetness of life, your sadness clings to you.
Don’t be scared of it,
it isn’t a scary thing,
it’s a real thing.
Try to understand it,
Roll it over your tongue,
hold it in your hands,
feel it pressing into your spine.
It is something you inherited from your mother, and she from her mother and so on and so on right back to our mother Eve.
This sadness is a longing,
a signature from God,
reminding you that you don’t belong here, that this isn’t your home.
A woman from the audience asks: ‘Why were there so few women among the Beat writers?’ and [Gregory] Corso, suddenly utterly serious, leans forward and says: “There were women, they were there, I knew them, their families put them in institutions, they were given electric shock. In the ’50s if you were male you could be a rebel, but if you were female your families had you locked up.