You already know this one by heart.

Through a hole in the earth the scene is supplanted - bricks for sticks, pace for peace. Above the silver sheet lies promised blue. Among faded gold the path leads through. Cymbal crash and mantra tone remind us that we’re far from home. Here is land that can’t be owned, here wood is wood and stone is stone. We rest our bones on splintered thrones and return to something not quite home.

Next time you wake to five on your door, don’t even ask what four. I’ll probably never know if three’s a charm, but two’s never done nothin’ but harm. Answer the call, and they’ve already one. 

We follow the ramblin' man as he rolls the stroll down Rockaway, setting off in search of true things. As he takes it to the bridge, we reel it back. Our journey ends and his begins. We'll return to the comfort of the little boxes we own, but he will make the world his home - three miles an hour, one step at a time. To walk in stride with someone who marches to such a unique beat can't help but shift your perspective, even if he is Just Walkin'.

On second thought, who am I to say how the dues should be paid? Last time I checked there were at least two different ways to pass your days, and one of them was fearlessly. For those who lack motivation, desperation can lead to inspiration. Or, as Play-Doh sculpted it, necessity is the mother of invention. Whether you lace it straight or toe the line, eventually you'll learn to earn. That's simple Mathematiks.

Sometimes, the best place music can take you is the middle of Nowhere. The sun comes up, the cobwebs clear, the music queues and all the bad shit starts to fall away. That subtle glitch in a song that's otherwise without a hitch is your blue pill, your rewire, your quick rewind. You emerge in the exact same place that you were standing, but somehow everything is different. Introducing Echo Deck.

We all walk the plank eventually. Some need a push, others jump in. But now what? Which current? Which wind? Does the end goal have a soul? If not, it's a waste of time.

AND

Even if you're on the right track, you'll get run over if you just stand there. 

The green eyed monster mocks the meat it feeds on. 

City lights swallow starlight but here it’s free to shine. A thousand holes poked in the black sheet of night will taunt you with the great beyond. So much room a mind can’t help but wander. Can’t help but wonder what waits beyond that ridge, across that sky, underneath that star. In confinement all’s attainable, but out here it seems sooooo far. 

Big Red chews freshness that goes on and on. The mountains, trees, and the countryside all beg for us to slow, but the tune on the dial, the twinge in my back, and the voice in my head demand I drive faster. On the other side of that range there's a little place waiting beneath a starry sky and so I, heavy of lid and foot, pound onward through snow and alpenglow. The Parker Ranger exacts his toll but then it's Okay Go, up the spine of the Monarch to the midnight show. "How was the drive?" they'll ask, and she'll look at me and laugh. She can keep a secret.