—IN MY MIND, YOU’RE ALWAYS THE BRIGHTEST PERSON IN THE ROOM, THE ONE EVERYONE SECRETLY LOVES, AND WANTS
…I don’t normally post out of order (every M, W, Friday) but I need to get a jump on Monday, because this is going to be a busy week.
(Also, it’s close to midnight right now, on the cusp of Monday, so I'm not exactly that out of order.)
…I loved the book below, the carefully crafted stories, the lines that slay, the subtle and not-so-subtle ways she allows you into her head and heart, the thrum of danger.
It taught me a lot, for many different reasons.
She’s a writer to watch, for sure.
This is Part One of my favorite (dog-eared and underlined) bits…
Milk Blood Heat—Dantiel W. Moniz
--I feel blurry and grateful—how much love it takes to hate this much.
--The lights are off in the bedroom. I am six and the dark is a jaw around me.
--“Life’s a circle, you know? You can’t go anywhere someone else wasn’t first.”
--But Billie wasn’t fooled; she knew that, worldwide, money was the cult over all things, no goodness or sin excluded.
--Certain of her own complicity, Billie got into the habit of picking up stray litter in the parking lot. Every day she checked for dead carp.
--The sky ahead of the road was streaked purple and felt a little like driving into nothing, made them feel immaterial and a little spooky, like maybe “self” was a myth.
--What would the world be now if women had been allowed more freedom to wonder?
--Even the most basic scars no longer faded entirely from her skin.
--“You think anyone really knows what they’re doing?”
--“Sorry,” she mumbled, hiccupping into the bowl, but she knew that it was only a word, that it excused nothing.
--Colette bent over Billie and rubbed her back and Billie thought, maybe even anger was a kind of love.
--Billie considered that maybe anything could be a portal—a black hole, a body, a choice.
--He sighs and it sounds like a storm.
--This always delighted me, how extraordinary things could look outside their flesh.
--She said gratitude kept her young.
--I heard, and thought, If she’s still a girl, when can any of us be women?
--I estimated the number of boyfriends she might have had over the years, the many children she had swallowed as seeds. How painless. I wished I’d been eaten, too.
--She was laughing, unaware she was about to swing into the sky, about to be lost, a pinprick among clouds.
--She told us you could be a ghost in your own life, and sometimes that was worse.
--And when I blow out my candles, just know what I’ll be wishing for.
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