LONDON, JULY, 2020
When the tentacles from UK Lockdown v1.0 calmed their suction cups, and the country's rusted gears cautiously squeaked back into motion, I exploded out of my cave with frothy jaws and a fierce erection pointing the way. I was going to exploit this opportunity for all it was worth! Call of order number one: visiting the home of the legendary Piton Bathman Pit, the primary composer mastermind behind my band, Seclinefor. During our time apart, we'd written our third record, and finally, the COVID numbers had pried open a window large enough for us to haphazardly slap my vocals down. Over two weeks, we vomited out the ten songs, then then I tipped my hat to the man, confident these babies were in the best of hands. My mission continued with unrivalled speeds, Jarexiting London the best I could (considering the circumstances). My adventure started in Liverpool, sucking some talent out from that sweet, sweet Beatlemaniac oxygen, then buzzing on upwards to the magical city of Edinburgh, armed with nothing but a mask, a bank card, and some other stuff too. Clothing mostly.
Within hours of my luggage wheels struggling over those cobbled Scottish stones, my Tinder vibrated a matchy-match. My anxiety hardly found a chance to awaken before I was socially distancing with a sparkly Boston girl at some local pub. The conversation that followed was akin to an evenly skilled game of friendly tennis, each player serving their best selves while impressed by the human bouncing back to them. The beers massaged our rapport as we related through topics most people would walk away from, such as productivity techniques, nomadic lifestyles, and a fascination for folk religion. The evening ended with a mutual agreement that it was the best first date either of us had experienced.
We wasted no time and met up the very next day, then continuing to do so at every leftover moment we could harvest from our busy schedules. My one week planned visit to Scotland's capital turned into two weeks, then three, all the while our interest and faces inched closer and closer. Emotions ultimately overrode any pesky lawful hindrances, and we were making out by the third get-together, inevitably snowballing into greater intimacies, as human romances tend to do.
One morning, I floated from her house into the rare Edinburgh sunshine, fueled by my affection for this girl and the perfection of this otherworldly city. The toes of my sneakers gently dragged upon the sidewalk as my dopey expression spread so far up my face that my smile obscured my vision, oblivious to the lightbulb tumbling from the heavens, aimed for my cranium. Special delivery! The gift clicked into my cerebrum with a knowing smirk, and a one-liner flashed across the horizon. Kissing Strangers During an Outbreak! Omg, that's what I've been doing! I laughed so hard. On the one hand, this was highly irresponsible behaviour according to the science community and wholly against government command. So naughty! But on the other hand, how could anything be wrong when everything felt so blissfully right? Furthermore, (and as this smarty-pants female has since pointed out) we weren't strangers by this point. We didn't feel like strangers from the split second we made eye contact.
But why get snagged on particulars? A blessed sentence had wedged into my pallet and would not budge, humming like a fluorescent tube, begging to be used somewhere, anywhere. One of the 10 Sectlinefor tracks was an obvious choice, but we had already named every song. Oh, but did the loud noise care about that? No, it did not. Instead, the volume increased until my guts reacted for me, sacrificing Track 9's title for this new shiny moniker. For your scorecards at home, that piece was originally called The Self Harmy Army. Reading it back all this time later, I note a loss. It's a good phrase in itself. But I also recognise that a line in this vein could trigger some sensitive minds in our sensitive world. I assume that was my deciding factor at the time. I can't remember a large portion of my life, to be fair.
This change slid beneath the closing door with only hairs to spare. Part of my band homework is to design our album covers, and when I proposed some options to Piton based on specific songs, wouldn't you know it? Kissing Strangers During an Outbreak won the honour, taking hold of the album title too. And once a thought breeds such an independent momentum, there is not much you can do to stop it. Proven sentiment when conversations about our lead single's music video lasted a total of three seconds. "Should we just recreate a live-action version of the artwork?". Yes, we should. And we did.
Belief in "God" is a controversial topic. No amount of heavenly coincidences could sway anyone's solidified opinion one way or another. But when an idea like this one POPs from the ether then sets off a glorious domino effect of creativity, it does assist the case of some celestial force at work. Even my atheist artist friends readily admit that their best inspirations appear to strike from a mystical realm outside of their skulls, but the only difference is that they trip over their words when attempting to explain. Meanwhile, the rest of us nod in gratitude, sending thanks to the powers for choosing us, encouraging them to keep up the great work.
Eventually, I did leave Scotland, sneaking my way into Belfast, then Dublin before the world crumbled to its elbows once again, forcing me to cower back to my London safety bubble. But I will forever treasure this pocket of my explorations for the sheer flawlessness radiating from every minute second, every second minute, every atom, every whisper haunting the dampy gothness that only Edinburgh can summon so well. And, of course, I must offer immense appreciation for my momentary muse, whose aura will eternally remain captured within this record. Thank you. I would kiss you again during any outbreak, probably, idk, maybe that's too far, but the thought is there xxx
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