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My Recent Experience Without Internet

April 6, 2015 / Kyle A. Massa

Last week, my girlfriend Sara and I were watching some sweet NCAA action when our Internet decided to take a snooze. We did a lot of screaming, and then pouting, maybe a little crying. Finally, we just gave up and went to bed.

For the next few days, the signal continually and sporadically came in and out, which got pretty annoying while I was trying to send emails. I grabbed my trusty iPhone and called up customer support (because when one piece of technology isn’t functioning, you should always use another. And they say Terminator will never be reality…)

The representative on the other end informed me, of course, that our Internet was working just fine. “Also, it says here that you’re eligible for a free account upgrade for no extra charge. Would you like me to go ahead and get you started on that?” I thought it was odd to start a sales pitch after a customer complaint, but I guess I admired his persistence. Still, the answer was no.

I got off the phone, and I looked out my window with newfound wonder. It was like when Neo took the red pill in the The Matrix. No longer did I have to be plugged in all the time, keeping track of short story submissions or the NCAA Basketball Tournament or who’s being eaten on The Walking Dead. For once, I could spend a Sunday doing something other than web surfing.

But, disappointingly, the first thing I did was go for my computer.

Oh well. I guess old habits die hard. But, without Wikipedia and MagicTheGathering.com on hand, I instead went straight to Scrivener and opened up my latest project. Sure, I was still on the computer, still worshipping the Apple God, but at least I was writing and not wasting time. In fact, I think I did some of my best writing in recent memory.

Afterward, I really did put down the ol’ computer and picked up a book. Sara and I always read before bed, but sometimes we don’t have enough time, or we’re too tired, or we elect to watch that extra episode on Netflix instead. We read for hours, though, and it was really awesome. (If you haven’t checked out George R.R. Martin’s Dreamsongs collections, please stop reading this article, go down to your nearest bookstore, purchase it, and read it. If you purchase an eBook copy, shame on you–you’ve missed the entire point of this blog.)

I’m thankful for the Internet. I’m thankful that there’s a place on there for my fiction, which I will now unabashedly hyperlink here. I’m thankful that I can get news stories and see what my friends are doing in real-time, and watch videos of Nicolas Cage threatening to kill old ladies. The internet is an awesome thing.

But unplugging (sort of) for a while allows you to cut down on all those inane distractions. Don’t get me wrong–I’m not on my way to Walden Pond anytime soon. It’s just that we don’t always need to be connected to the net.

And now the Internet’s back and stronger than ever (five little semi-circle Wi-Fi waves, baby), and I’m sure I’ll be back to looking up pirates and Elder Dragon Highlander decks.

But I’m glad I had the experience, at least for a little while, of existing without the internet. And next time I sit down to write, I might even be so bold as to shut the Wi-Fi off altogether.

Just don’t quote me on that, though…

“Whiplash” and Writing a Good Villain

March 23, 2015 / Kyle A. Massa

I somehow made it through awards season without seeing many of the Academy Award Nominated films. Maybe I’ve been playing too much Fire Emblem: Awakening with the shades drawn. Anyway, I’ve gradually started to see more of them. Last night, Whiplash became the latest.

The film stars Miles Teller as Andrew Neiman, an ambitious jazz drummer at a competitive music conservatory, and J.K. Simmons as Terence Fletcher, an emotionally abusive music teacher. The film centers on the relationship between Neiman and Fletcher, examining Neiman’s thirst for greatness that is only swollen by Fletcher’s search for extraordinary talent.

Though Teller delivers an excellent performance, Simmons really steals the show (I mean, he did win the Oscar). Anyone can yell and scream obscenities, but Simmons balances those scenes with kind, almost touching moments of humanity. In one scene, for example, Neiman glimpses his teacher meeting with a friend and his daughter backstage before a show. Fletcher says to his friend’s daughter, “I’m so sorry, can I have your autograph?” And then later, “What do you say, you ready for Carnegie Hall?” It’s not said with the biting sarcasm he uses elsewhere in the film, though; it’s a surprisingly sweet scene.

Simmons’s Terence Fletcher is certainly a villain; there’s no questioning that. But, like any truly good villain, he’s still a person.

There’s another telling scene toward the end of the film in which Fletcher reveals his teaching style to Neiman. He says, “…it’s about pushing people beyond what’s expected of them. And I believe that is a necessity. Because without it you’re depriving the world of its next Armstrong. Its next Parker.” And then comes the line that probably encapsulates the character best: “There are no two words more harmful in the entire English language than ‘good job.'”

It’s an amazing scene because Fletcher justifies his aggressive teaching style. And though we as the audience probably didn’t understand him before (when he was slapping students, hurling chairs at them, and forcing them to play into the late hours of the morning), we might understand him now. This is the mark of an excellent fictional villain: one who commits reprehensible acts, yet reasonably justifies her/his actions.

Now I don’t want to diss the classic evil dude archetype. The Anton Chigurhs, Saurons, and Freddy Kruegers of film and literature are often just as awesome as their more rounded counterparts. But that sort of villain is seen less and less in modern stories. Filmgoers and readers seem far more interested in villains like Terence Fletcher, speaking generally. Guys like The Joker, Jaime Lannister, and Hans Landa are popular villains for a reason. It’s because people seem to be looking for villains with well-rounded psychologies and compelling motives for their evil acts.

Whiplash certainly doesn’t pass judgment on Fletcher’s actions either way. In fact, at the end of the film, Neiman does become Fletcher’s greatest student.

And when the villain helps the hero achieve his dreams, you’ve got to admit…that’s a new (and pretty cool) kind of villain.

What Does the Adapter Owe to the Source Material?

March 2, 2015 / Kyle A. Massa

Martin Luther King Jr.

“Do you love me?”

You might not remember this scene from Ava DuVerney’s Selma, but it certainly stuck with me. Coretta Scott King (played by Carmen Ejogo) confronts her husband, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. (played by David Oyelowo) with this very question. King responds with a quick, “Yes.”

“Do you love any of the others?” Coretta asks. Dr. King’s eyes bounce around the room nervously, and a painfully long silence passes before he croaks, “No.” Coretta leaves the room, and the scene ends.

It’s a powerful moment that’s well-acted on both sides. But what really struck me about that scene, and really most of the film, was this: how much of it is actually accurate to history?

There have been plenty of articles written on this very subject, many of which express disappointment over “historical inaccuracies” in the film. A lot of people are specifically upset about the depiction of President Lyndon B. Johnson. For context, in Selma, Johnson (played by Tom Wilkinson) is portrayed as a mostly unwilling participant in the equal rights movement, preferring instead to focus upon other issues and push King’s agenda back to the following year. Joseph A. Califano Jr., Johnson’s Secretary of Health, Education, and Welfare, claimed that the filmmakers felt “free to fill the screen with falsehoods, immune from any responsibility to the dead, just because they thought it made for a better story.”

I agree with Mr. Califano in one respect at least. It did make for a better story.

When it comes to adaptations of any kind, many people seem to be so preoccupied with what happened. It seems like every historical fiction film or novel that comes out has people complaining that it’s not accurate, or that the artist changed too much. But that’s what it’s called historical fiction. As Vladimir Nabokov wrote in his afterword to Lolita, “It is childish to study a work of fiction in order to gain information about a country or about a social class or about the author.” In other words, don’t consume fiction and expect to learn any facts about anything.

Let’s say Selma did not portray the King/Johnson relationship with such strong conflict. Let’s imagine a film in which Johnson is fully on board with Dr. King’s plans. That’s a story without conflict, and, without conflict, you don’t have much of a story.

I suppose I understand why people close to the issue might be so upset. Indeed, there’s sometimes a certain presumptive quality to a piece of historical fiction, an unspoken suggestion that this was the way it really happened. But writer/director Ava DuVerney addressed the topic thusly, and I couldn’t agree more: “[Selma is] not a documentary. I’m not a historian. I’m a storyteller.”

Indeed, Selma is not a documentary. It is historical fiction. Perhaps we should remember that fiction is meant to entertain, to tell a compelling story, to make the audience think, and to make the audience feel. Even if a work of fiction is based on real-life occurrences, the artists allegiance should not lie with absolute truth; it should lie with the story.

What Ever Happened to the Guitar?

February 16, 2015 / Kyle A. Massa

After watching the latest Superbowl halftime show starring Katy Perry and her dancing shark pals, a single question occurred to me: what ever happened to the guitar?

The instrument still exists. However, you’ll remember that there was no backing band at the halftime show, and therefore no guitarist. In popular music in general, the guitar seems to be an afterthought. And even the tracks that do use guitar lack that certain style of playing, that self-indulgent five minute solo in the middle of the song, that boundless vocabulary that seems able to touch on each and every emotion one can feel.

In the 50’s, 60’s, and 70’s, the guitar was in its prime. Guys like Eric Clapton, Jimi Hendrix, and Jimmy Page were pioneering the sound that later guitarists would aspire to. These guys spoke through their instruments, weaving stories for the ear. There was Clapton’s voyage into unknown seas in “Tales of Brave Ulysses,” Hendrix’s trio of rousing solos in “All Along the Watchtower,” and Page’s ascension to the titular kingdom in “Stairway to Heaven.” When played by a master, there is no other instrument that can make the listener feel with such depth.

But what happened to all the masters?

Certainly, there are still guitar gods alive and well. Clapton and Page are still around, Metallica’s Kirk Hammett still plays a nasty axe, and there are numerous others beside. However, all of these artists made their names decades ago. Back then, they were the most popular acts. Nowadays, though still popular, their songs aren’t really top-chart hits.

The most popular artists of today are the Katy Perrys, the Lady Gagas, and the Adeles of the world. All are talented in their own ways, but they and the other top attractions of today are missing the guitar that so heavily influenced music in the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s.

I’m not saying that rock music or music with guitar solos is a superior form of artistic expression. (Well, I kind of do think that, but I’m trying to be objective here.) I’m just pointing out the fact that around the turn of the century, the guitar seemed to vanish from popular music, in favor of pre-recorded beats and electronic synthesizers.

So where did the guitar go?

It’s hard to say. I think that the decline of the instrument is due in large part to the purpose of modern popular music. Of course, music’s pretty much always been made to dance to–but especially now, popular songs are written to be club anthems. The top hits are usually between two and four minutes, have a constant and repetitive beat, and feature lyrics about–you guessed it–partying.

Will we ever see the likes of Page, Clapton, and Hendrix again? Time will tell, I suppose. For now, I think I’ll stick with my vinyl and keep the radio off.

Winter Book Recommendations

February 1, 2015 / Kyle A. Massa

Here in Colorado, we got about six inches of snow last night. And when we get snowfall like that, there’s nothing I like better than to sit down with a book about…well, snow. Don’t ask me why.

So what winter books might I revisit this winter? I’ll give you a quick rundown here.

American Gods by Neil Gaiman

It’s a case of old gods versus new gods in this 21st century classic. Shadow, a man just released from prison, has his world turned upside down when he finds out that his wife is dead. When it seems he has nothing, he has a chance (or maybe not) meeting with the enigmatic Mr. Wednesday. Together, they begin to assemble the players for the ultimate battle: new gods against old.

One of my absolute favorites. Widely regarded as Neil Gaiman’s finest work, American Gods is thoughtful, creative, and still timely, even though it was written more than a decade ago. It’s dense with memorable characters and settings, and the writing is clever and elegant. It’s so damn American, in fact, that you’d think that the author grew up someplace in the U.S. Though Mr. Gaiman lives in American now, he is in fact British.

A Dance with Dragons by George R.R. Martin

Okay, so this one doesn’t always have snow. The setting shifts from tons of snow beyond the wall, to lots on the wall, to a decent amount around Winterfell, to pretty much none across the Narrow Sea and in the South (until the epilogue, that is). Also, the next installment in this series, entitled The Winds of Winter, obviously promises even more snow.

I’m listening to this one on audiobook for the second time and enjoying every moment. Some people have criticized the exalted Mr. George R.R. Martin for broadening his scope too much and taking too long to write his books. Some have even whined that he might die before finishing his series. I’ll let George speak for himself on that score…

Anyway, I’m getting sidetracked. No matter what you might think of this book, you’ve got to admit that there’s a heck of a lot of snow falling in the Seven Kingdoms. There are even two characters named Snow (Jon and Ramsay) to go along with the regular ol’ fluffy stuff.

Ghost Story by Peter Straub

This one isn’t necessarily my all time favorite horror novel, but it still deserves a spot on the list. It’s sufficiently creepy and atmospheric, and once the snow starts falling, the freakiness is only heightened. Plus, it turns that idyllic peaceful winter image on its head. Definitely an awesome book to read if you’re looking for a creepy winter’s tale. I wrote a review for it a while back if you’re interested. (Ironically, I read Ghost Story some time in July, when the only snow around was the icy buildup in the corners of my freezer.)

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What are your favorite winter books? Feel free to mention them in the comments. Until then, stay warm!

China Mieville’s “Kraken” is Delightfully Undefinable

January 17, 2015 / Kyle A. Massa

Like most of his novels, China Mieville’s Kraken defies easy explanation. Here’s the plot in a nutshell: someone steals a giant squid specimen from the British Museum of Natural History. It’s up to museum employee and supposed squid prophet Billy Harrow to find it. Though no one agrees on who stole the squid, everyone agrees that if it’s not recovered quickly, the world will end.

Sound weird? It is. That’s what makes it so awesome.

Besides Kraken, the only other Mieville novel I’ve had the pleasure of reading is King Rat. The two are similar in terms of the author’s seemingly effortless ability to churn out unique ideas. Like King Rat, Kraken uses the London setting in a completely original way, presenting it as an urban war- zone disputed by numerous supernatural organizations. I think of it almost like a gangster movie, except that the gangsters in this particular story are a sentient tattoo, a pair of psychopaths who share a single heart, and a man who comes back to life as ink. The more you read, the more weird–and therefore awesome–things get.

The scope of Kraken is far greater than that of King Rat, which inevitably leads to some confusing moments. The climax especially is a bit murky, introducing a lot of new elements and strangeness, all very suddenly. I had to read it back over a few times, just to make sure I understood what was going on. But, for those who have patience, you’ll find a satisfying and exhilarating final few moments.

Though the novel weighs in at 500+ pages, there’s never a dull moment. It’s an impressive feat on the part of Mr. Mieville, especially considering that he’s juggling quite a large cast of characters, all representing different sides in the conflict. There’s no classic good versus evil struggle in Kraken. Rather, the conflict is more of an intentionally obfuscated mess of not-so-bad, not-so-good, and downright psychotic fantasy characters.

Or, in other words, a whole lot of fun.

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If you’re looking for a fantasy/sci-fi/new weird/thriller/dark comedy novel from one of the most creative authors around, Kraken very well might be your book.

Rating: 9/10

A Review of China Mieville’s “King Rat”

October 12, 2014 / Kyle A. Massa

This was my first foray into the mind of Mr. China Mieville, and I must say that, on the whole, it was a pleasant one. Mieville has a creative vocabulary spanning miles. He shows us a side of London so foreign that it may well be another world entirely. His ideas are fresh, his prose is marvelous, and his settings are vivid.

Even if you’ve been to London, I doubt this is a London you’ll recognize. It’s an epicenter of cultures, of age old stories, of even older secrets. The scenes in the sewers exemplify these characteristics best; it’s the place where vermin breed, where kings still rule, and where the supernatural is commonplace. Whether or not you agree with Mieville’s ideas, you’ve got to admit, they’re pretty darn cool.

But let’s not forget that this is Mieville’s first novel. At times, it shows.

The lone shortcoming preventing King Rat from achieving absolute brilliance is its rather bland cast of characters. The protagonist, Saul Garamond, feels stiff, as does his antagonist, the Piper. Even Saul’s friends Natasha and Fabian feel incomplete (though the former probably comes closest to three-dimensionality).

Luckily, the titular King Rat provides some much needed depth. He’s despicable, spiteful, vengeful, maybe even downright evil. But at the same time, there’s something so pitiful about him, something so tragic that I constantly found myself alternating between sympathy and hatred. That’s an impressive feat on the part of the author–but, unfortunately, he doesn’t manage to pull this off with any other characters.

The ending…well, I’m not quite sure how to feel about the ending. I won’t give away any details in case you’d like to read King Rat, but Saul’s final revelation certainly seems to come out of left field. I suppose I should applaud Mr. Mieville for doing something unexpected. But, at least for me, the ending he chose doesn’t really work as well as I’d like.

…

Though the characters and ending might leave much to be desired, King Rat is undeniably imaginative, adventurous, and unique. It’s the kind of fantasy novel that reinvents what fantasy can be.

Rating: 7.5/10

Good Omens: The Apocalypse Meets Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman

October 1, 2014 / Kyle A. Massa

Image courtesy justjillsblog.files.wordpress.com.

They say that two heads are better than one.

They may be right on that score.

First published in 1990, Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett’s Good Omens is an apocalyptic fantasy novel that somehow manages to turn the end of the world into a strange and hilarious romp. Crowley, a demon, and Aziraphale, an angel, become unlikely partners in a quest to prevent the impending reckoning. Why? Because they’ve actually grown to like Earth the way it is (Crowley, in particular, has quite the thing for fast cars and the classic rock band Queen). The duo scours Earth for the Antichrist, who, because of a mixup at birth, doesn’t actually know he’s the Antichrist. Throw in a book of perfect prophecies, a witch hunter, and a modern day witch, and you get Good Omens.

I’ve read a ton by Neil Gaiman and nothing by Terry Pratchett. However, I was pleased to find that their tones, styles, and voices blend together very well, to the point that you forget this book wasn’t written by one man, whose name might be Neilterry Pratchettgaiman. The prose is elegant and always funny, and the authors easily balance the story arcs of numerous characters.

Among all those characters, Crowley is certainly my favorite. What makes him great is how realistic he is: if there was a demon on earth, that demon would be just like Crowley. Furthermore, he represents a very interesting take on the demonic. After all, Crowley is a demon, but we never see him do anything particularly evil. This contrary behavior refers back to the main question that seems to come up again and again throughout the novel: What is evil? For that matter, what is good? And, perhaps most importantly, do such absolutes even exist?

This brings me to my next point: Good Omens is probably one of the smartest, most insightful books you’ll ever read on the subject of religion. Sometimes critics have a tendency to dismiss comical works simply because they make an audience laugh rather than cry–a tendency which I think is criminal. In my opinion, Good Omens is right up there with Milton’s Paradise Lost, Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus, and Bulgakov’s The Master and Margarita when it comes to literature about religion and the demonic.

Furthermore, the humor of this novel underscores the themes as a whole, being that belief, morality, and even life itself are sometimes parodies of what they’re supposed to be. It’s an absolutely brilliant novel by a couple of absolutely brilliant guys.

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Good Omens deftly challenges age-old notions of right and wrong with all the witty humor one would expect from Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. One of the best books I read over the summer–or ever.

Rating: 9/10

A Eulogy for the Book

August 11, 2014 / Kyle A. Massa

Do you ever miss the feel of the page? The artwork on the cover? The smell of the paper, the texture of the spine, even the satisfying whisper of the page as it’s turned? The written word thrives as it ever has—but seldom on the printed page.

I have an e-reader, and I like it well enough. I like taking it on planes and having access to as many books as I want, and I like how much space I save by bringing it along. What I miss are the things I’ve described above: the pages, the spine, the front and back covers, the weight of a heavy volume in my hand. Media changes with technology, advancements are made—but books should never die.

There are many valid arguments for having an e-reader. I’ve mentioned some above, but there are certainly more. I myself like that I can get public domain books for free on my Kindle, whereas I’d have to pay around ten dollars for a physical copy. The variable font sizes are also valuable for anyone who has trouble reading small print. Many have backlit screens, eliminating the need for external light sources. Lastly, electronic books are, on the whole, cheaper than real ones.

But there is a social aspect to reading that some might overlook, an aspect which is completely ruined by the advent of the e-reader. Imagine reading in a public space. A stranger notices the title or author of the book you’re reading on the cover. This stranger might ask you how the book is, and you might say something like, “It’s good so far, but I really don’t know what’s happening yet.” Or, you might hate it, or love it, or feel ambivalent toward it. Whatever the case may be, you and this friendly stranger have started a conversation because of the book in your hand.

Now imagine the same scenario, only with an e-reader. The friendly stranger will notice that you have a Kindle in hand, but will not be able to read the title of whatever it is you’re reading. He or she will therefore probably not ask for the title on the off chance that he or she has read the same thing. Some may say that this is not reason enough to spend more money on books, and perhaps it isn’t. My intent here isn’t to get readers to buy books. It’s to remind everyone of what we’re missing.

And what about book sharing? So far as I know, buying an electronic copy of a book only allows users to read it on their own device, unless multiple devices are connected to the same account. With a real book, however, one can purchase a copy and then share it with anyone. My mom loves to do this, and it’s one of the other social aspects of reading real books. Afterward, you can discuss the book with whomever gave it to you, perhaps exchanging ideas you hadn’t thought of before and thereby expanding your knowledge. This is not really a possible scenario with an e-reader, unless you don’t mind loaning your Nook out all the time.

Furthermore, don’t we rely on electronics enough already? I personally use multiple devices each and every day—my computer, my phone, my iPod. I love my electronics and I’m glad I have them—but once in a while, it’s nice to give all my focus to something that doesn’t have a digital screen.

The book is timeless. From the day the first Gutenberg Bible was manufactured on the printing press, books are how people have been sharing ideas. Now, however, they’re on the brink of extinction.

Perhaps it’s time we did something to save them.

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction. His debut novel, Gerald Barkley Rocks, is available now on Amazon Kindle.

Lana Del Rey’s “Ultraviolence” is an Excellent Listen, But…

August 5, 2014 / Kyle A. Massa

Lana Del Rey

I usually don’t do a lot of music reviews on my blog. However, I wanted to talk about the new album Ultraviolence for two reasons. One, Lana Del Rey is possibly the only modern artist I’ll listen to, and two, because I’ve never had this sort of reaction to an album before.

Musically, I think it’s marvelous. The melodies are haunting and instantly memorable, and the instrumentation is solid. You have to hand it to Del Rey; she’s produced an album without a radio-friendly single and without the electronic beats most popular artists use today. I think she’s a truly unique artist–no small feat when you look at all the clone pop stars around now.

Dan Auerbach of the Black Keys provides veteran support on guitar and production. His low-key, sombre chords fit the music quite well, particularly on “Brooklyn Baby” and “Ultraviolence.” Del Rey’s lyrics layer flawlessly over top, painting black and white noir scenes in the mind of the listener, scenes filled with empty west coast homes and alluring femme-fatales.

So much to love, and yet…

While most of the lyrics are wonderfully moody and atmospheric, some are downright troubling. Take for instance, the following lines from the title track:

I can hear sirens, sirens

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

I can hear violins, violins

Give me all of that Ultraviolence

Some will argue that Del Rey sings as a character, and that these lyrics are merely lines in the David Lynchian domestic hyper-drama her character stars in. I’ll admit, that’s not a bad argument; no one would fault a filmmaker for portraying violence onscreen, as long as that violence is necessary to the story, and (in most cases) as long as it isn’t glorified. But what troubles me about these particular lyrics is that Del Rey’s character seems to be welcoming the abuse as affection.

Furthermore, “Ultraviolence” clearly references the controversial 1962 pop song “He Hit Me (And it Felt Like a Kiss).” Originally recorded by The Crystals and produced by Phil Spector, the song received limited airplay for obvious reasons. Here is one of the more shocking verses:

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

He hit me and I knew he loved me

If he didn’t care for me,

I could have never made him mad

But he hit me and I was glad

Wow.

When it comes to art, I don’t get irked by a lot. I almost always support an artist’s right to create and exhibit his or her work, no matter how sensational or controversial it might be.

But this song is just hard to listen to. Its lyrics are made even worse by the bright triangle chimes in the background and the vocal harmonies that seem to cheerily echo the song’s twisted message.

Of course, “He Hit Me” was written long before Lana Del Rey was even born. But she’s referencing it without really condemning the message. On the contrary, she seems to be promoting it.

It’s 2014. Haven’t we come farther than that yet?

Some may argue that these lyrics will set a bad example for young listeners; that young girls might think their boyfriends don’t love them unless they hit them, and that young boys might strike their girlfriends in an effort to show affection. I personally don’t buy this argument. Kids are smart. For the most part, they already know what’s right and wrong. In most instances, music, video games, TV, or anything else really aren’t going to change their behavior too drastically.

Ultimately, it’s up to the listener to decide what she or he thinks. What I will say is this: I really like Ultraviolence. I think it’s an excellent album. But I’ll probably never listen to it without a certain hesitancy.

And I’ll definitely never be comfortable with singing along with the lyrics.

Kyle A. Massa