Songs For Your Day

You pick these things apart they’re not that appealin by Peter Cavanaugh

I kind of space out until someone announces the summer solstice. My foot is not off the pedal, but it’s relaxed, a lull. June, in my mind isn’t really summer. It’s foreplay. July, the first few weeks of August, those are the months of heavy panting. Then, by forces out of my reach, I am reminded of the summer solstice. Panic takes hold for about two weeks. I realize the days are slowly waning. If the sun sets at 8:50 tonight, it’s going to set at 8:49 tomorrow and then the day after and the day after and I become really nervous. A few weeks go by, some beers disappear, and I forget all about the solstice. But then it’s August, September, my October rent is due shortly and dear god is the sun really setting at 6:52 tonight?

All I have left is an evaporating bank account, a less pronounced farmer’s tan and this song:

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