A preface: I am on my way to bed. And yet, I cannot sleep. Typing until I nod off, I promise almost no essence of sensible content.
I've had songwriter and singer Mika's "My Interpretation" floating around in my musical ear for the last week, and I would go off into more lyrical detail, but I could easily guess that my nearly harmless intentions would be misconstrued. Not that I fail to recognize motivations within myself that shudder at the urge to shout along with his chorus- it feels good. Damn good, in fact. His words saunter along like a proverbial fist of retaliation, and I find myself as eager to recite his words as his Albumatic Self would seem to mirror.
I love viewing singers performing live. Not listening, mind you. They seem more humanoid in nature when your off-pitch moments seem to blend.
Goodnight.
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