The Weeks Between • HS

Week 5 • Harry

Mitch and Sarah are enjoying each another in their bedroom at my place. The walls are a little too close to mine and I'm not in the mood to hear that tonight, so I am sitting in my studio, messing around with a chord progression that Mitch and I figured out earlier this morning.

To be honest, it wasn't just them having sex down the hallway that was keeping me awake. I'm lost after a conversation between Jeff, Rob and I this morning.

>>>>>>>>>>>> Flashback to this morning: Zoom Meeting Call with Jeff and Rob

"Harry, it's not looking good. Tours are being cancelled into next year. Nobody is figuring out a way to get around the rules and regulations, and even if they can, YOURS can't be the tour that tries it and fails."

"I know, Jeff. I'm just lost and frankly I am fucking growing impatient with sitting at home."

Jeff rubs his hands up and down his cheeks, until his fingers meet his tired eyes and he rubs them and sighs, "we all are, H."

"Have you thought anymore about taking this time to focus on the next album?" Rob (the head of my record label) asks.

"Of course I have. I've got dozens of songs, but I haven't even toured the last album. How will it be received if I release another."  I say into the space and nobody speaks. " You know the best musicians keep people waiting for new material. What if we push it out too fast?"

"Slow down, H. You haven't even cut a song for it yet. You're at least a year out from a new album being a reality, but I know you," Jeff says with his look. The one he gets when I need to really fucking listen to him. "I know how you get when you have too much time on your hands and nothing to do. So, work on the next album. You already have Mitch and Sarah with you. Set some time up with Kid and Tyler. Rent a house and go somewhere and write. It could be just what you need."

"Yeah. I suppose," I say, rolling my lower lip between my pointer finger and thumb.

"You have no deadline for this, Harry. Fine Line is doing well. You know that the only pressure being applied here is from you. Just go and write and see what comes of it."

>>>>>>>>>>>> End of Flashback

The song has a working title. Late Night Talking. I have been doing a lot of that lately, and I'd be fucking lying if it didn't have a lot to do with the four people living in the house next door, or perhaps one in particular. I stand up from my place on the couch to look out the window over green space outside where the sun it setting. I am hoping nightfall will awaken some new lyrics.

As I survey things, I fall upon a man in the driveway at Nola's, obviously building something.

----- Message to Nola -----

Harry: Are you aware that there is a strange man in your driveway building something?

Nola: 😂 Yes. Luke's parents are here for the week. They sent the girls bikes and he is building them for us to take to the park tomorrow.

Harry: Did they come from the states?

Now, I have to stay away from them for the next couple weeks. Great. Even more time to myself I think and I facepalm.

Nola: They landed almost two weeks ago and have a rental twenty minutes away. They have been quarantined, but the ten days was up yesterday.

Thank christ.