Sperm makes sense to me. I understand sperm. I had sperm questions, but I
found sperm answers by gloshing out into a mug and running experiments.
Sperm's just a union thing, nothing more: can't see one, but get a million
of them together and they're seen; can't hear one, can't hear a million of
them; they all toddle along but it only takes one to do the job. Boy, my
left-wing pro-union buddies are gonna break my legs for that last one! (Oh
yeah? You and what army?) Sperm's just sperm, but because I've been able to
do my little experiments I understand it, because I've debated it at
conference I've come to conclusions, it makes sense. If it doesn't make
sense I can find further answers, I can do anything I want, I just don't
want to do anything.
I want to understand eggs. I get all the bleedy stuff but the eggs. There is
no mystery that is women; women are just men who look better in dresses
unless they're fat bitches with ugly faces. The mystery is the egg thing. I
don't get the egg thing because I've no empirical experience of the egg
thing. That makes me a bad person, incapable of taking a leap of faith, one
who believes only in what he can see, one who doesn't believe in oxygen, one
who believes lungs are pointless and can be used to store things like small
toys, sweets and lung cancer. I get that, I get that I should just get the
egg thing, or pretend just to play it safe in case there is a heaven, but I
don't get the egg thing, and it boils down to not having seen one out of the
flesh. I'm not denying the existence of eggs, I'm saying I don't get them,
y'dig? I get the bleedy stuff, I know there's an egg in there somewhere, but
I've not seen it, so it's not clicked, I've not got, I've not discovered a
need to know the pH or drawn the synsomething with unions, a comet, or the
burnt, oxidised tape from a video. How can I who is half egg, half sperm,
all man, get who I am when I can't get the egg? I can't.
Please don't send me your eggs. I don't want that. I don't know you. I'm
sure you're nice, I'm sure you're healthy, I'm sure your egg is lovely, but
I don't want your egg. Just as my sperm experiments and understandings
wouldn't sit right with me if I'd used someone else's sperm, so egg
experiments and understandings have to come from me. I don't have eggs. I
can't understand eggs. I'm left confused and stumbling, and it hurts. I
don't have the bleedy stuff, but I get the bleedy stuff. I don't have eggs,
and I can't get eggs. I do have sperm but if I didn't have sperm I couldn't
get sperm. It's confusing, it's contradictory, and I stumble and cry.
If I were a woman I'd sit in an empty bath in a warmed bathroom, put the
plug in and bleed. Light a few candles, sing a few songs, take my mind off
the fact I'm sitting in a bath slowly slowly filling with menstrual blood
and uterine mucus. Sit, wait, do the only thing I could do. There'd have to
be some warfarin and eucalyptus oil to prevent clotting of blood and mucus
respectively. Sit, wait. An egg would come. I've seen TV; eggs are huge
compared to just one sperm. Maybe I'd not see one, but four or five hanging
around in a group after four or five months sitting in a bath with candles,
song, and the rest, and I'm sure I'd be able to see what I wanted to see.
Own eyes, no microscope. I'd get it. That's what I'd do, but I can't, so I
won't. I'll stumble and cry.