How do you stand in the pulpit and look a congregation in the eye after they caught you f*cking in the church?I’ll tell you how.A few summers ago I interned at a little church in Brooklyn.
I lived in the church itself, on the second floor, in a room in which Sufjan Stevens had lived, the Beastie Boys had stayed, and Tracy Morgan had filmed.
It felt portentous. And for a kid from small towns around rural Oregon and on the Arizona-Mexico border, New York in the summer was a dazzling domain.
The world was open and brimming with life and I was there to participate in it fully—to dance and sweat and smoke and write and drink and live.