Just another Monday night. Monday monday night. Monday monday monday night. Boy o boy. If I had a bicycle right now, I would put my little head phones on, and just ride off into the sunset (which passed hours ago, of course), and I would have myself the longest bike ride in recorded history. There just something so… about riding a bike. I haven’t done it in forever. I used to love it so dearly, and spent most of my afternoons and summers when I was a kid adventuring on my bike. I guess I could maybe capture the same feeling I’m after in a car with the windows rolled down and the music rolled up, and just go and go and go. I could be the driver or the passenger. Or both. Watching things pass by, watching me pass things by. When I was on Staten Island this weekend there were leaves brown and crunchy on the ground. No golden leaves in trees though, or reds, or orange. Fall’s not quite there yet. It’s so imminent right now though. So just on the verge picking up my sails, and whoooosh… off I go into that distance. On my bike of course. My bike with sails, and windows rolled down. Crunching through leaves. Crunching through every September of my whole life. Backwards and forwards. All of them raked and piled up on the front lawn. Jump in it. Some of the ones at the bottom will get black and wet soon. I’ll pretend not to notice. I won’t have to pretend. I’ll just walk. Walk to the subway, walk to work; walk back to the subway, walk back home. The guitar distortion of crunching leaves. It’s just like riding a bike.