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Kindle Notes & Highlights
Both prayer and music were holy, and they saved my sorry ass more times than I could count.
I did everything I could to lift each student, to help them carry the light in their own hands, not hold it for them. Sometimes that meant calling out their sloth and turpitude. And I knew how to clock BS because I lived it. To break a horse or a human, you must first understand wildness.
Meaty magnolia blossoms held glinting veins of pink, little hearts pumping inside each petal.
Anything so unexpected warps time, with wretched clarity and blurriness. Like a car accident. Like your first kiss. The tiniest details at once magnified and obscured.
Yes, my God is a They, too powerful for one person or one gender or any category mere mortals could ever understand.
White supremacy is like wet rot—hiding deep inside, insatiable, and utterly destructive, disguised very well until it falls in on itself.
New Orleans was ornate in every way, especially in its punishment. Like wispy fiberglass, the city doesn’t feel like it is of this world, alien bizarre, so you can’t help but touch it. But when you hold it tight, it shreds you with its invisible teeth.
I rarely said the Our Father. Though I loved its cadence, I begged only Mary—only women—for forgiveness.
Was God the voice in the thunder and the storm itself?
Was I afraid of success, or just accustomed to disappointing?
A dyke David to the patriarchy of Goliath.
Holy Mary, Mother of God. Let the afterlife have central air and hot women.
How scary and sacred it is, to place your trust in someone. To ask for help. Almost like love.
God isn’t a person. God is everything, everywhere, in all of this, the details I remember and everything I’ve forgotten.
