There are some bands you might not necessarily be madly passionate about, but still have feelings for in your memory. I've never been a huge Chicago fan (except for "Saturday In The Park" and the stunningly beautiful "Colour My World," which would make even Cruella Deville cry) yet their music seemed to follow me all through my youth.

In middle school, our music teacher had us play Chicago songs on the recorder. He constantly used current pop music to engage our attention, though Chicago was never particularly the rage among my classmates. Chicago most likely works better with the recorder than the far more energized Motley Crue or Prince would have.

In high school, my sister became such a passionate Chicago listener, theirs was the only music she played in her room besides Madonna. I always found the 80s albums to be a bit sappy, maybe even emotional overkill, but the sincerity within them struck me as endearing.

Of the different lead singers who have moved through the band, Peter Cetera (vocals and bass from 1967-1985) has a voice that sounds very kind and genuine and even when I didn't like the songs, I liked his attitude. It's not his fault, after all, I associate that particular period of Chicago with being a wallflower at a high school dance.

The liner notes from their 2007 release The Best Of Chicago aren't especially introspective (it would be kind of neat to see reflections on their early singles), but there is this mention of Diane Warren, who seems to have written every Top 40 power ballad from the 80s and early 90s.

She has written for so many well-known singers, but I think my favorite song of hers is "Solitaire," which Laura Branigan released in 1983.

 

for more on Diane Warren:

 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diane_Warren

(picture source: Lichaamstaal .com )

I read recently (though no one needs a book to tell them this) that someone's body language and the look in their eyes are always (always!) a better measure of how they feel and what they think than their actual words are.

Frankly, as long as they're somewhat civil about it, people might be better off being a tad more blunt with their thoughts and emotions. In the end, it could spare others the pain and confusion that come with receiving mixed messages.

Because, really, if a person doesn't like me, I'd rather they politely just move on...they might not even realize that how they truly feel shows forth in their so-fast-it-almost-didn't-happen "You're an idiot, but I have to be here with you, so I'll be nice" glances. To be hated is almost preferable to being tolerated or, worse, patronized.

As Chely Wright writes in Like Me: Confessions of a Heartland Country Singer :

“I hear the word "tolerance" -- that some people are trying to teach people to be tolerant of gays. I'm not satisfied with that word. I am gay, and I am not seeking to be "tolerated." One tolerates a toothache, rush-hour traffic, an annoying neighbor with a cluttered yard. I am not a negative to be tolerated.”

She is referring to a specific example, but you don't have to be gay to feel that some people in your life just tolerate you.

Maybe others' iciness or "oh Lord, not again!" attitudes comes from all that suppression and good manners most of us have lived with our adult lives. Maybe it comes from their admirable (but unnecessary in this instance) drive to follow the principles that define their personal, professional and spiritual lives.

All I know for sure is that having someone say something nice to you only to find when you look up later they're giving you a dirty look is very unnerving.

I don't know if you do this or not, but sometimes seeing all the books I have yet to read and long to read again (who's lucky enough to have the time for that?) the only thing that comforts me is to get up and run my fingers along the bookcase. As passionate book lovers, we can't possibly read everything we want to, but sometimes knowing it just exists is enough.

Tonight I pulled my Charles de Lint books down off the shelf and experienced the giddiness I first felt upon discovering his wonderful work years ago.

All of his writing is heartfelt, magical and Mr. de Lint is so in tune with the human spirit he seems both masculine and feminine. His Newford stories, in particular, touch the soul. After his novel Memory and Dream (I can't possibly sing its praises enough) Moonlight & Vines is my next favorite of his.

This is the kind of fiction that makes you wish it were real and the characters inside your very best friends.

Way back in 2003, Uncut music magazine released an absolutely wonderful cd featuring different musicians covering David Bowie...mind-blowing* interpretations include Culture Club's "Starman," Guy Chadwick's "Fall In Love With Me," Edwyn Collins' "The Gospel According To Tony Day," Blondie's "Heroes" and Duran Duran's "Fame."

 

While it was originally put together with lots of care, only numbers 1, 4 and 6 were exclusively recorded for this released. More information can be found here:

 

http://www.discogs.com/Various-Starman/release/1054988

 

*Mind-blowing in strictly non-Bowie terms, of course. He's in a class by himself! :)

I used to believe this, honest to goodness I did. Now I know it's not true or, if it is, it's all about the books in the picture, not someone special I might meet.

I don't refer to myself as unattractive to get pity or be disingenuous. I do it, and particularly did it when I used to try the personals, to be honest, to prepare someone who's about to meet me in person for the first time if it's in a certain context.

"Oh, no, no, no one's ugly. You shouldn't call yourself that." One woman assured me over the phone the night before we were to meet. I silently agreed with her because I normally hate the word "ugly" and would never use it to describe someone else.

The next day we met at a Starbucks in Rockville. Meeting for coffee is always better than for a meal because if things don't work out well, things don't drag out so long.

But during this particular instance, the woman had barely sat down at the table (her eyes clearly showing her disappointment) before she bounced back up and told me she'd just remembered she'd forgot to feed her cats. You could hear the screech of her tires as she pulled out of the parking lot.

I'd blame it on my personality, but we took lots of time getting to know each other on the phone first. She said she liked my voice, shared my interests in books and music and wanted to get to know me better. But none of that meant anything the moment she laid eyes on me. I've never seen such panic in someone's eyes before. Well, I have, actually, but not quite like this.

Things have always gone so much better up to the "meet in person" date, that I sometimes think (if I still wanted to date) that I would try finding love exclusively through phone and email contact. I'm less shy that way and, for weeks or even months, I can look like whatever the person envisions in her mind.

In the end, that's not a real relationship. You can't hug or eat dinner or just hang out comfortably with someone over the phone...not in any way that warms your soul. For that, for me in particular, I'm better off with books. Books might not be able to hug me in any physical way, but they touch my heart and soul and they honestly could care less what I look like...