The Power of Love

I was on the 60 heading west. I had just spent an absolutely wonderful afternoon with the infamous C Digital Fresh, RobMag, and his Lovely Mrs. Mag, and I had my thinking cap on.

The wheels were turning about the man I love. The man whose beautiful blue eyes reassure me that I am protected and loved when I gaze deeply into them. This man's wily smile turns me into butter, and I can't tell which way is skyward.

I've never told anyone how I feel about him before. I haven't mentioned to anyone that hearing his voice sends my body into shivers, and that the smile on my face would light up an entire city. No, I have kept the secret to myself, my darlings, until now. You need to know. This is important.

I love Huey Lewis.

Fuck it, I even love And The News. I love them all. I always have. Back to the Future only proved my point. This man is a God who walks among us. Picture Hue-dog, with his little Don Johnson sportcoat with the sleeves rolled up. And those faded jeans. Huey Lewis (and the News) is a real man. He can take me away from this pain and heartache--he always understands how to comfort me.

Honestly, I was listening to "If This is It," and it hit me square in the jaw. "Now you're confessing/but I'm still guessing/I've been your fool for so long...I'd rather leave than never believe...if this is it/please let me know/if this ain't love you'd better let me know/if this is it/I want to know/If this ain't love baby, just say so."

Who the fuck hasn't felt like that?!

God, Huey. The words that fall from your precious lips are like gold to me. Sing, sing, my angel of music. Help me understand this madness that swirls around my head. Give me shelter from the storm with your wisdom. Enlighten me, baby. Over and over again. Tell me about the heart of rock and roll, and the power of love. Give me something to cling to in this wild, unglamourous dance.

don't need no credit card. g