I think being aware of the present moment is a very enchanting thought. A romantic idea. Something I dream about but can’t fully wrap my brain around. See, I’m never here in the grand scheme of things. I’m always somewhere else. Floating off in the cosmos trying to predict my future, fearing my future, resisting my own existence, trying to plan for impending doom because I’ve forgotten how to let go of what I can’t control. And because I can’t control everything, I have the unfortunate propensity to assume the worst of things.
But there was a moment. A minute out of the many when I didn’t have such an aversion to life as it persists when I’m not pretending I can orchestrate it. I was with my friends, drinking wine in my grandparents’ pool. The sky was being all perfect. The air was being all perfect. The night was settling all perfect. And I remember looking around at all the people I loved. Looking up without trying to understand the universe. Drinking wine that wasn’t all that great. And thinking everything was wholly and truly perfect. And I was fine. And I had nowhere else I wanted to be. Not even five years into the future where I constantly swear I’ll have everything figured out, and life will be so so good to me.
I wanted that moment to be a song. That moment became Chlorine.
If I can say anything at all about the process of writing and recording this song, it’s that from the moment we perfected that intro, I couldn’t forget how it all sounded so much to me like the word Chlorine.