Bisected

So, it's like noon on Sunday, and I'm at the University of Chicago gym on an elliptical trainer with a tv attached. I'm watching a football game and listening to my ipod which is spinning a mix that goes something like Townes Van Zandt, Spoon, Girl Talk, Erykah Badu, and Bread (sometimes my ipod shuffle makes me feel so cool with my eclectic and oh so good musical selections bumping together). I'm thinking about how I'm going to go home and make last night's spinach-artichoke-sans-artichoke dip into a faux chicken, real rice, cheesey spinach casserole for lunch. AND, I've already finished my reading for Monday on the evolution of welfare policy in America. Basically, I'm feeling like The Best Sarah.

I walk home and it's a little cloudy. I talk to Marcus on the phone and he tells me about how they hung out on the Bessemer Court porches til the breaka-breaka. And then I talk to Eryn on the phone about a three-mimosa brunch after a night of hanging out til the breaka-break and I get real sad.

Another Best Sarah lives on porches in the summer-turned-fall. Drinking and smoking and contributing to conversation that gets more ridiculous as the night goes on while she grows more fervently attached to the musical selections that pump. I love the morning-after recovery, the haphazard yet delicate selection of brunchery or lunchery, and fondling the hair of the dog.

So it goes. I have no tidy wrap-up. My moods are somewhat sinusoidal.

--sarah