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epitome of incomprehensibility
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Problem: there's a cutesy pop star named Ariana Grande with a classical-sounding voice. No, that's not the problem; I do think she has more of a classical voice than a pop voice, the same way Lady Gaga's jazz voice is better than anything else she does, but... market forces, y'know.
No, the problem is that the aria- or Mariah-type chorus from her song "Problem," the phrase right before the whispering part, was sticking in my head after a view or two of a parody. Maybe my problem is that it does sound like something out of classical music, a typical going-up progression, but it's isolated and repeated so that it keeps going on replay in my head. Or at least it did for a while.
And then she appeared in my dream. With Katy Perry, she was at the neighbourhood block party. Just this fact made me start de-aging.
You see, pop music makes you younger, and getting younger involves a costume change: first I was in a sober but well-fitting black dress with brown pinstripes; I marveled that it was the same pattern as one of my pairs of pants and I wondered how that happened. Next, I was in pastel green shorts and a pink T-shirt. I hadn't been aware of the change, but I'd gone from twenty-seven (one year in the future) to about nine in a few minutes, all because of the pernicious power of pop.
On the bright side, I was able to do flips and was a bit of a dance sensation.
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