Hour three of transcription. Close to the end, I think. I'm at:
Can you talk more about “being in the sublime?"
Sometimes I feel guilty for liking more men writers than women writers, as if I am betraying my gender. It reminds me of grade school, when I wanted to play soccer with the boys at recess, but I was always getting picked last for the team, probably not because I was a girl, but because I was no good at soccer. Still, it hurt to be left standing there with the chubby boy, the other one no one wanted. So I tried street hockey. Again, no good. Then, in fourth grade, we got to choose an instrument and I chose the double bass because it was bigger than I was, and when I carried it around, adults would kind of smile at me, like, oh look at the skinny girl with asthma, she's about to be crushed, but I was first chair in orchestra and that felt good. I guess what I admire in writing is a kind of masculine energy. I don't like writing by women about victimhood and fragility, and even as I'm writing this, I'm sure there's a lot of that in my own poems, but I like to think I counter it with enough vengeance and ferocity. This is all to say I love Dorothea Lasky, who happens to be a woman, whose poems are like teratorns and not nightingales, unless the nightingales are in the jaw of a teratorn, think about that for a sec.
K: Can I tell you something? Did you know my teacher says a man can get married to a man?
Me: That's true.
H: BUT THEN THEY CAN'T HAVE BABIES
Me: You're right, men can't have babies.
K: And did you know a woman can get married to another woman?
H: ONLY WOMEN CAN HAVE BABIES