little sarah Big World

Tag: music

Life’s a Trip

~OR~

“I could go forever with a car, the open road, good music, and good company”

Looking up in Rip Van Winkle Park

Do you remember when you said that if all we had was a bed and music, we could have an amazing time?

Café Lumiere, I believe

But we also have coffee–sometimes fancy (with maximum adjectives), sometimes simple (black). Sometimes instant, after a nap or with our sunlight closet kitchen breakfasts.

The Russian Way

And we have amazing friends, from all over the world. Friends who make us P-shaped sofa beds to sleep on after arriving in the middle of the night–post-party–after 13 hours of driving. Friends who make speeches, or take us to a private beach, or get us tipsy on champagne on a sunny winter’s afternoon.

Now with more regular sustenance

We have words, too, and crosswords, and we divide and conquer, for maximum fun. We have a new-found sense of comfort around each other, so that just as the faint worry forms itself in my mind (“What if we just sit here and eat in silence like all the saddest couples?”), it is obliterated by how utterly easy it is to be around you.

you coo lay leigh

We have a ukulele! We lose entire mornings to it, burn through lazy afternoons and surprise each other with our sweet-yet-simple, earnest efforts to plunk out a tune. So we do have music, but now we make music, too.

P, B, and J

We have snacks for days, and sometimes we have meals. We cook together, and sometimes we say “Fuck it,” and get take-out, and it feels like the most fun, the most giddy and indulgent thing. It feels like milk and cookies with a friend after school. It feels like a sleepover. Like no parents no rules.

sunny slopes in Pacific Grove

And we have sunshine. We have sunshine in our hearts, and warming our scalps, and electrifying our pulses, and we have it in the kitchen, and coming in through the wintery west windows, and in the middle of December. We have easy sunsets on the conversation-fueled charges from Utah to California and back, and we have a steady, stealthy sunrise as we pull into the City of Salt, 8am, 13 hours weary but ready to keep going.

We do a loop around the valley. We arrive back home exhausted, thrilled, enamored.

*       *       *

So yes, music and a bed would be enough. But we have so, so much more.

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Ogden Time

Caught the FrontRunner up to Ogden for a night at Dad’s house. Like I do.

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Too Much

~OR~

The Longest Day of My Life

After my champion death race, I went out to breakfast. Had buttered toast, because sometimes that happens. Because I hate being a picky-pants diner and asking too much of my server. Dad ordered me coffee, and though I never drink more than a quarter cup, I sipped the whole thing down, steadily, as it was hot on my red, raw tonsils.

I’ve long wondered what would happen if I drank so much caffeine. I’d thought it would make me jittery, nervous, sweaty.

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Life is Good

~OR~

Lately

I haven’t been sleeping enough. Not even close. I am running on the fumes of excitement, newness, closeness, and friendship.

Which means that I spend a lot, a lot, of time smiling. Blushing, giggling, doubled over with laughter. Riding my bike with the wind rushing past and my head in the clouds.

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Where Are We?

Last Friday Eric and I played a benefit. For…I’m still not sure. There was so much gong on–us, and a small jazz group, and some sort of Latin salsa-esque group. All in different corners of the same big warehouse. There was no start or end time for us playing. We just started when we arrived and played until a big band started, right in the middle of our song.

Then we got food, listened for a bit. Lindsey Friend was my date, adapting to my busy night so that we could have time to walk and talk. I ran into an old friend. It was uncomfortable. Later, I ran into an old band-mate–the first time that’s happened since I quit. Strange, strange Salt Lake City.

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Mama Said There’d Be Days Like This

“There’d Be Days Like This, My Mama Said”

-The Shirelles

Days where you are too anxious to eat, but Mom makes you tofu curry scramble and fresh salted garden tomatoes. So you eat, and you do feel better.

Days when you have to explain to your little sister what breaking up is, how if you are boyfriend and girlfriend with somebody, and you don’t want to be with just that person anymore, then you break up. And that means you don’t see each other as much anymore, and that means Rosie won’t be seeing her friend Kevin as much anymore. Do you understand?

She doesn’t, but she tries, and she holds my hand and kisses my cheek.

Days where you go to a Ladies’ Luncheon, laugh about the bad decisions you’re making, make light, feel better. More like yourself.

Days where you play music in a church, where beautiful girls sing pure and powerful, like sirens. And your friends tell you they love you, and when you lean your head on their shoulders, they lean back into you.

Doing the Best that I Can

“A nice heart…

…and a white suit…

…and a baby blue sedan…

…and I. Am. Doin’ the best that I can”

-Modest Mouse, “Baby Blue Sedan” (Building Something Out of Nothing)

*       *       *

The less I do, the more I think. The slower I go, the more I understand. A long walk to Perry’s, headphones on, plans for a mix tape, new energy, new Sarah, emerging. One step at a time.

“Baby Blue Sedan” by Modest Mouse

San Pedro de Atacama

~OR~

Back to South America

Not literally, of course. Who knows when I’ll go back? Maybe never. I’ve fully submitted myself to the whims of chance. Mostly out of laziness, but still.

The point is, I will now be writing about my adventures in the past tense (and damn glad of it, but more on that later).

*       *       *

When we last left off, I was on top of Macchu F***ing Pichu! What?! YES. And before that I was in La Serena. But we’ve skipped a part, Friends! Lots of parts, actually, so don’t get too set on more Macchu Pichu photos right this instant. You’ll have to wait for those. Patience, Friends.

Anyways, in addition to sunbathing and reading, Brett and I enjoyed other activities in La Serena. Namely, getting sick. Brett spent most of the time in La Serena sleeping and grumbling, while I went for runs and read outside and took photos. Then I woke up with a sore throat, the day that we left, and followed that with the most miserable overnight bus-ride of my life. Only to arrive in San Pedro de Atacama (pictured above), with aches and chills.

Let me tell you, the Chilean desert is not a great place to nurse a sore throat.

But there were kitties!

And there was an overpriced barbecue which I signed up for mainly for the 3 glasses of wine. Because drinking when I’m sick eases my symptoms, although Brett’s friend Josh unkindly informed me that it’s “really bad for you.” Whatever. He also said that your lymph nodes under your neck are tonsils, so…

The hostel we stayed at (pictured above) was actually not too bad a place to be sick–plenty of sunshine, hammocks, hot water for up to 3 minutes, etc. They organized all sorts of excursions and events, like the barbecue, and we met friendly and interesting people from all over the world–a Chilean astrophysicist/musician, an English couple who’d saved up for years and then quit their jobs to travel together for a year, some pleasant girls from Iceland…lots of stories there.

The astrophysicist was named Sebastian, and he gave me my first charango lesson then cancelled plans with his friends to have dinner with me. I wrote in my journal that I was pretty sure he was into me, but that I just wanted a change of company and a solid, vegan meal.

You see, it was in San Pedro that I began to seriously reconsider traveling with Brett and Josh. But that’s another story…

*       *       *

To be continued!

Bon Iver, A Wedding, and Pride

~OR~

Since I’ve Been Home

The above picture is from the Bon Iver concert at Red Butte, though it is also a great representation of what I’ve done since being home, which is: eat my body weight in hummus and veggies. And drink. That’s ginger-n-bulleit in the nalgene, Friends.

The concert was the night after I got back, and I almost didn’t go due to general crankiness and party poopery, but I’m glad I did, because of this:

Lady Friendships! Oh, how I am sustained by my frienships. I’ve been battling the blues and blahs since getting home (working every day for 3 weeks straight, anyone?), and even just the little chats here and there have really lifted my spirits.

*       *       *

I played a wedding! With Eric! From pianobike! Here’s what that looked like (from my POV):

*       *       *

…and then there was Pride, for which I baked the most failure cupcakes. Actually, they were for Nicole Friend, who loved and accepted them just as they were (you see what I did there?).

Cupcakes before:

Cupcakes after:

Yes, I used pre-fab frosting. Did I mention I’ve worked every day since coming home? The lesson I learned from this is that you can’t take one concept from a favorite blog, superimpose it onto a Bob’s Redmill recipe, make a bunch of vegan and high-altitude adjustments and expect any sort of coherence. That’s just asking too much.

Anyways, Pride:

and:

Rainbows aside, it was a touching, and then painful day. Touching because over 300 Mormons marched in the parade to show their support, reducing many an onlooker (myself included) to tears. Read more about that here.

Then painful because I day drank. OH MY GOSH, SARAH, NEVER DAY DRINK IT IS ALWAYS THE WORST ALLLWAAAAYS!

I really hope that’s a lesson learned. Learning lessons has been a big theme for me since coming home. I may or may not have considered getting “This is how we learn” tattooed somewhere on my body.

I may or may not still be considering that.

Welcome home, me.

Going Out in Valpo

-OR-

And to think, this all started in a church…

…where we went to hear classical guitar. And eat Oreos. Then we drink wine from mini bottles on top of an overpass. And then we went to a bar/club.

…where we drank more, danced to live rockabilly music, hit on the coat-check girl, got hit on by inexpert boys of all nationalities, and danced ’til the wee hours of the morn.

Then I walked home alone, got lost, and asked some sailors for direction. I was maybe still drunky when Brett woke me up this morning to catch our bus.

Don’t tell Mom.