Archive for October, 2007

Moby – Love Should

October 31, 2007

Moby Boardie Concert – Love Should

thank you for sharing this with me, my fair one.

rules of engagement

October 31, 2007

Have I mentioned that I am a hopeless romantic?  …to a fault, I suppose.  I believe in love.  I believe in the power of love to move mountains… ford streams…. travel great distances… set up housekeeping and rob you of your sensibilities.  Yep, I’m one of those who howl at the moon, swoon at the slightest sentiment and croon all those forgotten love songs that nobody sings anymore.  I don’t know why they don’t sing them anymore, those lyrics still ring true for me, but they just don’t.  Like love is a doormat and people just get tired of having their hearts stepped on, I guess.  Those old songs are worn and ground with the dirt of past romances… but I still admire and welcome them.

But of all the variable ways there are to say ‘I love you’ nothing says it quite like…  well, “I love you.”  When those words are spoken there is no turning back.  You’ve made a commitment, at least… I have.  So when I say, “I love you” you can bet I do, because my heart only has room for the ones I love…  the rest are inconsequential.

I still love all those I have loved in the past.  It is not easy sometimes, but I can’t change the way I feel.  To hold those feelings for a few hours, days or even decades is the ultimate for me and I can’t let that emotion go when the relationship is over.  I’m the guy sitting alone in the corner with the confetti strewn about, the noise cranker in hand and the pointy little cone hat still perched cock-eyed on his head.  I should wear a sign, “I’m in love, wake me when the party’s over” because I sleepwalk in love and end up here… wondering why I wear my heart on my sleeve and allow everyone else to blow their noses on it.

I was talking to my daughter the other night, she had just broken up with her boyfriend of two years.  A tough break, because she took on all his emotional baggage and ended up getting left at the depot.  She was a bit bitter and swearing off men for awhile… saying things like, “Who needs love?” but not in those exact words.  I love my little girl, it is hard not to want to rise up and beat the ones that hurt her to a pulp, but I refrain because I know how she feels when love is good… and I know she still cares about him.  I tell her, “I’d rather have been in love a hundred times than to have never been in love at all.” and I know it sounds cliche’ but I honestly do feel that way.  She thinks her dad is naive and lives in a fantasy land, and perhaps I do… but it is my fantasy and I am happy to abide by it.

There are no rules to follow, maybe it is best that we make those up as we go along.  What works for some might not work for others… it is a learn as you go process…  trial and error, hit and miss, throw love up against the wall and see if it sticks.  Why, I don’t know…  there is no one to enforce them (if there were any) so we are virtually lawless in love with no rules of engagement.

We really aren’t long for this earth, when you stop and think about it.  Why all this struggle and strife? Why all this conflict and futile pursuits?  There are plenty of rules to guide us in that regard, but still that elusive happiness does not find us.  What is that old saying?  God blessed the foolish in love? 

I’ll take that blessing without reservations… again.


convertible therapy

October 27, 2007

Here in the Sunshine State we have a thing called “isolated showers.” What that means is that it can be raining here and not over there. I have driven down the street headed in one direction with the sun shine glinting off of my windshield while the traffic facing the opposite direction is getting wet. When I lived up north and it rained, it rained all over the state… and sometimes it rained for days. Down here it is different, you can actually drive to beat the rain, go around the rain, avoid the rain or just go with the flow of the rain.

Tonight… I raced with the rain.

I dislocated my shoulder while working several years ago and inadvertently chipped a bone when it tried to reset itself. Anyway, I was laid up for a few days with nothing to do but watch T.V. and get depressed. My ex-wife, knowing my mental state, insisted one day we get out of the house and go for a ride with the top down. That ride snapped me out of my doldrums and I have prescribed convertible therapy ever since.

Tonight I needed a healthy dose.

It was like any other night when your mind is in a fog and you need to blow it out with the top down and the humid air making your hair slick back like fish fins. I call it convertible therapy because for about 20 bucks worth of gas you can set your mind straight on a lot of things but you don’t have to talk to anybody and blame all your life’s problems on a mis-fortunate childhood. (though mine did suck, I’ll save that for another post)

Florida’s state flower is the orange blossom and as a phantom companion, she rode with me tonight. I placed a compilation CD in my player and headed out, determined to listen to the whole thing completely through without stopping. Great care had gone into the selections and I wanted to garnish any subliminal messages I could all at once without distraction.

I took off with no real direction in mind, just moving with the traffic. People look at you differently when you go topless, especially when it is cloudy overhead. I’ve had people pull up and warn me of the weather conditions before, but now I did not care. It was a challenge for me and I was up for it.

The rain goaded me on, “you’ve made it this far… how much further?”

Tooling around the city blocks will get you noticed, but opening it up on the highway and rolling out around corners will get you saved. I needed saving. I made my way to the outskirts of town… and then the rain rose up to meet me. My windshield reacted with “you kidding me?” streaks as my intermittent blades slugged across. It was mere spittle, in and out of the fickle coverage would have dried it in a few minutes but I put the wipers on anyway, a testimony to my defiance.

The rain was swirling now, in and out… stronger at times, then weak… reluctant, teasing me. “Come out… no danger here.”

Heading north, following other cars that seemed to know where they were going I was able to loosen up a little, push the speed limit to 65 which felt fairly good. Buzzin’ up about 15 miles and turning onto the Interstate I rapped it up to 95 in a heart beat, the center lines formed exclamation points while the reflectors slipped past like little asterisks. Rain drops pelted my windshield now, but blew over the car’s interior forming a thin veneer canopy contoured to the body lines. I was in a teardrop, a silver streak spotted by big diesel trucks and mini-vans defying the moisture while inside I remained dry.

And the music… “… if you could only see the way she loves me, maybe you’d understand,” selections I might have put on had I been making the list; songs I knew, songs I had forgotten, songs that were new to me. Orange Blossom, you are good company… I’m so close to you now I surrender… but the rain wasn’t giving up that easily.

I bobbed off I-70, spun a u-turn into a gas station with the CD blaring and whined up to the pumps. I was protected here with the covering over the dispensers, the rain waited patiently while I drained my wallet in exchange for liquid gold. I looked around… I was alone. No one else would venture out this night, at least… no one confident enough to enter the race. I could put the top up now and be home free… but home was still about 10 miles away. I gunned it out of the parking lot and fishtailed back on the highway.

Back into the thick of it, “You’ll be sorry now, you should have waited… you should have covered yourself, you should have kneeled down and acquiesced.”

Rain is a patient adversary, it’s little clouds can follow closely over your shoulder and wait for the opportune time to dump all of it’s collective miseries upon you. How you react is the thing. Can you see those clouds building and run for cover? Not always, sometimes you are so preoccupied that those rumblings can seem so far off, they appear minuscule. Other times you welcome the rain, let it wash over and cleanse you, allow it to infuse life back into your roots while taking in the nutrients as if in a gentle bath.

It’s funny, same rain… different outcome. Same source, different recipient. I spoke with these things to Orange Blossom, my phantom companion, but she still remained optimistic… and while others may hide from it, we raced with the rain and won. I made it home, dry as a bone. The raindrops pooled on the pavement as I swished through them, oncoming headlights splintered from the multi-faceted prisms that had collected in between the sweeping arms of my wiper blades. But we were spared the humiliation of returning the convertible top to it’s resting place, we were masters of the cosmos… we were mightier than Thor and his hammer.

As I backed into the garage, I thought about what I had accomplished in a scant 105 minutes with 6 speeds, 9 speakers and a compilation CD. Convertible therapy may just be a state of mind, a change of prospective… phantom company like Orange Blossom or an inner peace that fosters the self realization that the rain comes as sure as the sun shines.

…we are in our element, regardless.


A Spiritual Man

October 25, 2007

I must have been beholdin’ an Angel / I must have died last night,

I surely must have woke up in Heaven / to have witnessed such a beautiful sight.

Yet here I am standin’ with my feet on the ground / not part of the Almighty’s plan,

still Heaven must have sent me an Angel to love / ’cause she’s makin’ me a Spiritual Man.


I’m not the kind of man that’s for settlin’ down

I’ve got a lot of livin’ to do,

can’t march with the Saints with no jewel in my crown

I gotta give the Devil his due.

When she turns to me with that look in her eye

I feel I may be givin’ in,

with her hand in mine I’m expectin’ to fly

’cause Lord,  I’m in Heaven again.


I must have been beholdin’ an Angel / I must have died last night,

I surely must have woke up in Heaven / to have witnessed such a beautiful sight.

Yet here I am standin’ with my feet on the ground / not part of the Almighty’s plan,

still Heaven must have sent me an Angel to love / ’cause she’s makin’ me a Spiritual Man.


I’m not the kind of man that’s relyin’ on fate

I’ve always put the trust in my sight,

can’t join in the choir of walkin’ by faith

I couldn’t change the darkness to light.

When she turns to me with that look in her eye

I swear I see eternity,

to be a Spiritual Man’s what I’m willin’ to try

she’s awakened the believer in me.


I must have been beholdin’ an Angel / I must have died last night,

I surely must have woke up in Heaven / to have witnessed such a beautiful sight.

Yet here I am standin’ with my feet on the ground / not part of the Almighty’s plan,

still Heaven must have sent me an Angel to love / ’cause she’s makin’ me a Spiritual Man. 


copyright 2007 by Chrisfiore5


rude, crude, lewd and socially unacceptable behavior

October 21, 2007

Okay… it was a bit crazy today.  Perhaps frantic.  Frantic is good… let me explain.

 I hate to shop, I’m using the word hate here… about shopping, I hate shopping.  hate it.  I want to do my business and leave.  get my shit and get… don’t doddle, don’t browse, don’t want a free taste of something, don’t want to know about falling interest rates or the “buyers” market here in Florida.  don’t want cookies, don’t want my car washed, don’t wanna donate to your cause… don’t wanna shop! but I’m here… let me get on with it.

 Usually I know exactly what I want.  If I go to the grocery store… I have a list.  If I go to Best Buy… I’m there for  particular item,  If I’m buying a CAR… I know what I want.  don’t wanna shop, don’t care what’s on sale… don’t care about new releases… don’t wanna hear about miles per gallon or customer satisfaction.  Don’t make me shop!  I am here to BUY.

Today I was looking for an item from out of the blue… didn’t get much time to think about it…  just reacted, got impulsive… went “shopping.”  I was looking for a poster, a reprint of art… recommended by someone.  I wanted to have this art for my own, I wanted to look at it everyday and be consumed by it… me, “the consumer” being consumed by art.  I wanted to have that part of me that linked to this other person deepened with the possession of this piece of mutual admiration.  Did I mention I hate to shop?

So I went to one store, an artsy store… with crafts and knick knacks, frames and reprints… artsy stuff!  cool, I was own my way.  I asked a woman about art reprints, she pointed to a rack, I commenced “thumbing” through.  Marilyn Monroe,  Cassius Clay knocks out Sonny Liston… lots of art here, retro posters from a century ago, flowers, vases… flowers in vases.  No luck, no good… flipped them all.  Went back to the woman.  “Do they categorize these in any particular order?”  No, they ship stuff out, we stock it.  No catalog, no reference point… just blind thumbing.

Another store, close at hand… nothing.  Another store, further on… nothing, they recommend first store I visited.  What is this, a conspiracy?  I leave third store and head to a different part of town, the largest arts and crafts store in the area.  I walk in and ask the nice lady, “Art reproductions?”  She points to one side of the side of the store, “All along that wall.”  And she was right!  Racks of art work, framed, unframed and reproduction prints.  Utopia! Now I just have to find the piece I am caught up with, the art that I long to behold… that which has been shown to me and has sent me “shopping” because of the bond we share.

 First rack, nothing.  1920’s, Chicago World’s Fair, Coca Cola, more Marilyn Monroe… Jack and Jackie at Camelot, the 3 Stooges,  Michael Jordan  (Michael Jordan?) more flowers…

Next rack, nothing. Da Vinci reprints, man with golf club during Empire State Building construction, King Kong… this is futile.  Other people mill about, looking and taking their time… “shopping.”  I want my item, I want to get it and leave.  I don’t want to delay, please move aside.  I’m certain what I’m looking for is where you are.  They move, I search… nothing.

All around the racks I search, just as I am coming to the end of the last row… a couple of “shoppers.”  They congregate at the end, the last two sections of reproductive art.  They look at Marilyn, “She was so beautiful.”  He looks at it and nods.  She pulls out flowers.  “Where would we put this?”  He shrugs, she puts it back.  I’m done, I’m up to that part of the store and if what I’m looking for is not there, I’m done.  I stand close, they are thumbing… I look busy, I look over their shoulder, I sigh, I stand… I KNOW what I am looking for is in THAT section on THAT rack.  She pauses and pulls out… and this is poetic,  Edvard Munch’s…  Scream.  “What about this?”  He looks at it, he is contemplating… like he is at some friggin’ multi-million dollar auction and about to put a bid on a Van Gogh. 

I want to scream, “No! you don’t want that you stupid shits! move out of the way!”  But I am patient, I wait.  I look at other things.  wire baskets, weaved frames, flowers, vases… flowers in vases.  He decides no, they return it.  They edge over just enough and I pounce.  They look at me like I’m a crazy man, but I’m on a mission… I’m focused.  I know it is here and I’ll find it.  Next to the last rack, nothing.  Last rack, slower this time… looking at each one; Marilyn, ten car garage, palm trees (in Florida? who would’ve thunk it?) Coca Cola, World’s Fair… it’s not here.  It’s not here.  I shopped.  I did the work… I waited, I was calm… it was nowhere to be found.

I walk to my car,  The Kiss by Gustav Klimt, that’s what I want… the art I want to share, the scene I want to gaze upon and wrap myself up in the blissful notion that there is my own true love out there and looking on simultaneously as we touch each others souls.  I am dejected… defeated.  I hate to shop. 

I know why now, what I want is never there.  I wasn’t shopping before, and I found what I wasn’t looking for… the girl in that portrait, Klimt’s “The Kiss.”  and there is irony here…

I found my copy online.


Amanda Marshall – Marry Me

October 20, 2007

Amanda Marshall – Marry me – LIVE

L says to M… marry me.

– – – L & M – – –

October 20, 2007

A slow burn like a cigarette smouldering in some forgotten ashtray, the brand… L&M.  Lovers grapple in haste, too fierce to allow the fire to be stubbed out… the friction igniting, causing the smoke to billow above them.  Inhale, exhale…  Liggett and Myers… light and menthol… L&M

A comedy team, L&M… her laughter to his inside jokes, his grin to her contented sighs… one performing for the other.  each applauding one another… an audience of two meant for each other.  laughter and medicine…  Lewis and Martin… L&M.

The FM plays for L&M.  she hears old songs as if they are new, he plays her music and dedicates, too.  Discovery of emotions, timeless… yet a time for two, hopeless romantics like Lennon and McCartney… lyrics and music… L&M

Poetry read: to L from M, letters written daily to send… on their way with Dorianne Laux and David Meuel… intimate kisses for me from you… the bookstore beckons, who could refuse?  Laux and Meuel… language and meter…  L&M.

L&M… right smack dab in the middle of the alphabet, M leaves her cousin N and stands with L… just left of center.  That has always been L’s philosophy and politics, just left of center… not quite ordinary.  M assures him of his place in the world… by her side.  Leisurely… Methodically… lips and mouth… love and marriage…



Goodbye! …it’s great to be back again

October 17, 2007

Ahh…. vacations! time away, time with family, time to think about what is happening in the world you left behind. How many times have I come back from vacation feeling refreshed and invigorated? This one was sooo different…

A new prospective? yes… recharged, renewed? yes… a totally new outlook on life? hmm… yes!

I would have to say that this past vacation was the best one EVER and I want to thank each and every one of you that helped to make it all possible… helped me with the cheap seats and I learned a valuable lesson from my sister, Kathy which can be summed up in two words… Air Tran. Didn’t choose that one, went with the airline that used to be ready when I are but they were not. But they got me there so my complaints are mute.

My hotel accommodations at the Iowa House Hotel were great… especially the free stationary and computer access. Sitting smack dab in the middle of the university campus in Iowa City, I was never too far from the future thinkers of America. Originally when I tried to book with them they said they had no vacancy but with a brain that is quick on it’s feet I managed to remind them that I am a VIP and they graciously chose not to press the issue.

The weather was good, not too hot, not too cold, a little rainy but who am I to complain? Vacations are all about getting away to a different locale and experiencing among other things, the weather. I admired the fact that the trees were hanging on to their chasteness for a little while longer before they dropped their leaves like a bath towel on the campus floor.

The friends, always good to be with friends. Laughing with friends, reminiscing, sharing jokes and tall tales. We are always the same and yet time makes us better whenever we hook up, like we are breathing in new versions of the same truth. You were here, I was there… then we did… I did not! yes, you did! You remember? Ofcourse I do! But you did, too! My friends, my best friend… the best of friends.

Family, so much family! a reunion with pictures and sideways glances… who are you? which one? where are you now? how have you been? where did you go? and did you know, did you know, did you know? So many faces from far away places just up the block, just down the road, across the state line, across the country. Family! we came from here! and pictures! who does he look like? pictures! gather around and smile! see how she has grown! Pictures! her mother? her brother? a sister, a cousin and aunts and uncles and grandmas and grandpas. Pictures of Family! we pose and smile… we came from here!

And food, so much food! feed an army! with potatoes and beans and salad with macaroni or rice and Jello and delicious cakes and pies and breads and bar-b-que. each a dish, all de-lish… we gave thanks for our food and commenced being happily  grouped with hearty appetites, modest tableware and eager anticipation. give us drink and we’ll be satisfied, give us food and we’ll be back. give us family and we’ll be fed.

My vacation, on the phone. far from home. all alone. except for a voice… a voice on vacation with me. there with me, here with me now. a voice I could not remember, a voice I cannot forget. “Hello? your name is on a bathroom wall down here at the pub. I should erase what it says about you, but first I must ask… is what they are saying true?” A crummy line on vacation at a time when you feel isolated, far from home in your own back yard… alone with family and friends surrounding you, an alien in a familiar place… a sigh from an unseen face on the other side of my vacation… away from home while still at home and wondering if I’ll get a way to the one on the other side, the side were I belong… my family.

Vacations, a time to reflect. Vacations… do not neglect. Take the time to re-inspect and learn where your place is. Family, friends… loved ones all. I salute you!

…and thank you for a wonderful time.


The Beatles – Michelle

October 9, 2007

The Beatles ‘Michelle’

an amazing song, fair “Michelle”

Love is…

October 9, 2007

 From the apostle Paul:  1 Corinthians 13: 4-8a

4) Love is long suffering and kind.  Love is not jealous, it does not brag, does not get puffed up,  5) does not behave indecently, does not look for it’s own interests, does not become provoked.  It does not keep account of the injury.  6)  It does not rejoice over unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth.  7)  It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.  8)  Love never fails.


I was struck by the meaning of Love and what love is yesterday.  I imagine we all have our interpretations and requirements of that emotion.  It never ceases to amaze me how Love or the concept of it never seems to grow stale.  Love is the one constant that surrounds and sustains us.  Why else would we be here?

If what the Bible says is true, God is Love and everything He does is tempered with love.  If God is complete in Himself and lacks nothing, the whole of creation was set into motion because God loves life and wanted to share it.  And if we are created in God’s image as the Holy Book says we are, our paramount quality as human beings is Love.  It is as natural to us as breathing.  If we are to believe anything that God’s Word says it should be that.  What we do with said quality is entirely up to us because He also gave us free will.  But this is not a sermon and far be it from me to preach one, but the topic is what it is so to understand it we must look to the origination of the source.

I recently read a blog about a first time hockey mom and the pride she had in her 8 year old son during his inaugural day at practice.  What mattered to her was his happiness and I thought about the love that she had for him… unconditional, self-sacrificing and optimistic.  A mother’s love is so much the reflection of God’s Love that it is uncanny.  I envied that little guy…

Our personage, our being and very soul requires Love… it grounds us, fortifies and nutures us.  Like a mother’s love, it cements the soul and spirit together, it brings forth innocence and wonder.  Love transcends time and space, distance is traversed with the speed of thought, in the beat of a heart…  without it we are incomplete. 

Is it any wonder we feel the way we do when Love is suppressed? or not returned?  Our hearts and minds are sick, we yearn for a “cure,” to once again express Love the way we were designed to do.  Without it we are lost on a sea of despair searching for the light of love.  We flounder aimlessly, cast adrift without the guidance of either compass or stars. Then when Love is found we erupt like a spring that has been held back, a flood that has crashed through the gates, a well that once was dry now producing sweet, life sustaining water.  We rejoice!  our cup is full again.  Love is Life, we might be able to live without it… but it is a shallow existence.  There is no quality of life without love.    

It is no wonder we respond to pet therapy the way we do.  To love and give love in return is what we were designed to do.  When it is with held, we suffer emotionally, physically, spiritually.  When it is found we want to shout it from the rooftop.

Love is the feeling of a touch, a look, a word at the right time.  Love is sharing the touch, look and word.  Love is there when there is no touch, when there are no words and distance has put you out of sight.   

Love is waving in that distance, knowing she can’t be seen but still she waves because her heart tells her to.  The trees sing her name spoken from afar to the lofty breeze.  The rain patters on her window while somewhere a rainbow is forming to bridge that distance between them.  Love is reading and re-reading her words, not searching for more content or missed information but to be re-informed of her emotions, her sentiment and gentleness.  Love is to bask in the radiance of her composition and the expressions that tip toe around yet do not reveal.  Love shows her face everywhere, it is the assurance of the mutual bond as the rest of the world silently witnesses and steps back.  Love is a meshing of two kindred spirits on a higher plane, beyond the human realm… it requires no direct contact, no voice, no images, no sound.  Love springs from the Eternal One… mortality is but a simple vessel. 

Love is what we are made for, it is what we respond to and what we crave.  It is our function, our design, our very purpose in life to receive and give love in return. 

In that same Bible text at 1st Corinthians 13: 1-3, the apostle Paul talks about all the things he could have in this world; riches, power, fame but he summarizes in verse two by saying, “if I do not have Love, than I am nothing at all.”

Love is Life, and today my life begins again and that, my friends… is something to cherish.