Letter from the Editor: Touched starved on Mars

February 4, 2025

Brock Wilbur,

Greetings dearest reader, and welcome to the February 2025 print issue of The Pitch magazine, homegrown here in Kansas City, U.S.A.

As is our tradition, this month’s line-up of stories is our annual Valentine’s Day aside into love, licking, and lunch—wherever that Venn diagram chooses to cross. Is it a little hornier than usual? Sure. Is that a bad thing? Absolutely. 😉

While the holiday itself is never a real lightning rod for us to gather around, the month of February does enable a spiritual slide into our DMs, because boy howdy do we need a good thawing. The combo punch of Midwest winter weather, KC drivers, Super Bowl build-up, and coming off the cacophony of assorted emotional needs from family and friends around the holidays… It’s just a good time to pull yourself up and go Do Some Shit out in the world. Toss in an election year atop 2024’s burning pile, and we certainly understand how you might’ve barricaded yourself inside for a while.

This is the klaxon call to return to society and claw your way outta your cavern.

“But Brock,” says you, “KC is the worst city to date in.” I have lived in the trenches of DC and LA, and I assure you that I’ve seen the casual dating version of war crimes, so I’ve been less inclined to believe this… until recently. You’ve told me your stories, I’ve watched with bated breath as folks in my circle fall into cartoonish pits time and time again, and I’m ready to side with you. Mayhaps, this has not been the best locale to start a new love. But increasingly, the complaints seem to err on the side—not of “all the good ones are taken”—but rather that no one seems to know what they’re doing.

2025’s Great Thaw might mean shaking off some parts of ourselves that have been in hibernation for longer than a single garbage-fire year.

One resounding bit of feedback that has echoed through multiple people in my orbit is that new potential romantic partners “don’t know how to kiss” or are “weird kissers.” I had Kristen Thomas’ sex column all cued up to get into hilariously kinky territory this month, but after hearing your accounts of how bad the smooch situation has become, her pages in this issue are fully dedicated to helping those who have (inexplicably) unlearned the art of making out.

Kaylynn Mullins, knowing that I am always open to the potential of those star-sign curious, brought in our cover story on letting Venus decide where you should take a date this month. It’s not scientific, but honestly, I’ll take any approach to getting y’all jumpstarted into a physically present ‘25. If a TikTok ban goes through, I imagine its digital death will be easier offset if you’ve met at least three new IRL human beings worth your time. Is that “so Virgo” of me? I’m told that it is, and I shan’t investigate further.

But in general across this issue, The Pitch is carrying forward the idea of our Blueprint 2025—that until you get out in the world and start getting your hands dirty, nothing about this year is going to feel any approximation of ‘good’ or ‘cool.’ Connections can take so many forms, and anything that tethers you to this Earth is probably as protective for your mind and soul as it is equally helpful to those around you. Seeing what forms this takes, in very different ways, are the crux of what Shannon Carpenter and Jordan Baranowski’s pieces are platforming. And, as per usual, Nick Spacek’s local music profile is built on one performer whose gravity has pulled in a dozen others to craft a joyous burst of big band bombast, while crafting a cacophony that brings audiences together.

I wanted to pull a personal photo to end on, offering up a slice of my life that shows off the joy of putting yourself out there. Instead, I found the pic above, wherein my wife’s stuffed Porg and my Winnie the Pooh are bonding in a car’s backseat over a shared copy of My Friend Dahmer. Perhaps not universal, but honest to me: This is squad goals. May you manifest your own this February.

Pitch in and we’ll make it through,