Seal, he of Batman song and Heidi Klum baby daddy fame, never includes lyrics to his songs in the liner notes. (Sidenote: liner notes! How quaint. Who buys CDs anymore?) He wants listeners to always wonder and speculate. I thought for a long time that was lazy, and frankly, a little mean to deafies like me, not that I’ve listened to Seal since 1996. Plus, his lyrics always struck me as nonsensical: “I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grave.” Wha?
But then I realized that some of my favorite lyrics have been ones that I’ve misheard. When I learned the real lyrics, I often still preferred the ones my brain misinterpreted. I thought too about how the truth is just a story and everyone believes their own version. I have a friend who told me she was inappropriately hit on by another friend. That friend says, no, actually, it was the other way around. I believe the truth lies somewhere outside their convictions, but I’ll never know for sure.
This, on the other hand, is so true:
I keep giving advice, hoping it’ll make me wise. It won’t. Only living makes you wise. And mistakes. I prefer to learn things the hard way. I’d rather be wrong than sorry.
My heart has grown
complacent. I dare not touch it,
not even with words.
At SF Weekly, my column had its birthday. Right on the heels of my own birthday, which is next Tuesday. Birthdays are so loaded. I also wrote about whether using Groupon on dates makes you a cheap asshole.
I’d write more, but I’m sick. I stayed home from work the past few days and had fever dreams that I was a detective and whenever I turned over, I came one step closer to solving the case, which after several hours, turned out to be: what is the true identity of Paddington Bear.
He continues to elude me, however.
PS: Oh my god. I just learned that Seal is from Paddington!