Same guy.

All Will Be Well With Gabe.

Remember the huge crush I have on Gabe Dixon of the Gabe Dixon Band, and how I hounded him for photos and autographs after his teeny tiny show about 1/2 mile from my front door in the fall? Well our little Gabey is growing up.

NBC's terrible new legal drama, Conviction (yes, that's the title of this presentation), is featuring Gabe's "All Will Be Well" on its promos right now. I don't know if it'll be the theme of the show or now (though I'm so into Gabe that I'm downloading the free pilot episode this very minute on iTunes to find out), but if they'll use Gabe, I'll watch their free episode. Or at least scan it for a couple of minutes. Maybe.

But that's not what this is about. This is about the greatness of Gabe Dixon. And he's getting cash + prizes to have his song on the national television broadcast, and for that I'm happy.

Join him? Where?

If you think for one second that there's some poetic justic in Bode Miller, Mr. Talk Talk Confidence Man, and his lamentable fourth failed race at the Olympics, well, you couldn't be more right. Here's what Mr. Miller had to say after finishing sixth:

"One of the good things about my career is I have such extensive knowledge, so I always go as hard as I can," Miller said. "Some guys can go 70-80% and get results, but I wouldn't do that."



Genius. Go on, Bode.

"If things went well, I could be sitting on four medals, maybe all of them gold."

Of course, this could be said of me as well.

Yup. Here IT is.

It's not a theory; it's a fact.

Good luck convincing me these aren't the same guy. It's as true as sunshine.



For starters, both of their names rhyme with clot.

Hep Cats, Dig!

Last night's rush of emotion (see below) was preceeded by a poetry reading, so maybe that's where I got in touch with myself. I'm part of this kick-ass community where we actually EMBRACE things like art and music and stuff (wha...?), so there was this cool joint last night where a jazz combo played, original artwork was displayed, and about 10 people read poetry. I was one of those people, and here's one thing I read, daddy-o:

I had hoped it would end with everyone loving me
Everyone stopping by to gawk and to see
The Million Dollar Wonder Man
It was a simple plan
I would do something great, or something folks would believe
I would make them awake and then they’d never leave
My warm, fitful side
It’d be one hell of a ride.
I have to figure out first, where do they want it next?
You got to hit some felt need if you’re gonna land on success
I will make them all moan
Like a dog for a bone
And when I know what it is, I will blow them away
With more colors and lights than t.v. can display
Their expectations will soar
Till they can’t stand no more
They’ll beg to eat me all up, like some fat chocolate binge
The pundits will laud me; the critics will cringe
A sensation suplex
It will be bigger than sex

At least, that’s the plan, or I hoped it would be
Trouble is, all I’ve got to work with is me
It’s a simple plan
For another man.



No jiv'in', ya'll. Solid.

My First Ice Skating Post Ever

I am bemused at myself. This happens fairly infrequently, but it happened last night, and the bemusement is still with me. I was watching those darned Olympics (!), and I saw that Russian couple--the ones where the guy dropped the girl like 2 years ago. They showed a little story on how this guy's confidence was GONE for like 18 months, and how the girl would NOT find another skating partner, and how this was supposed to be their swan song. They came out, nailed it, and stood there holding each other's hands in the center of the ice, after which they were awarded the gold medal. Me, I sat there and cried. We humans are so frail and so plucky and so irrepressible. Something about us reminds us of God Himself. I loved it.

Then the Chinese came out, knowing they had little chance of beating this duo. The guy stunned me, he was huge-he looked like a basketball player. Anyhow, on the first jump of their program, the girl came down weird and wrenched her knee; she splayed Bambi-style on the ice and you knew it was over. They took a break to see their trainer, and inexplicably kept acting like they wanted to go on with their program.

Well, they did go on with the program, in spite of this girl's pain. I thought of how her partner must feel: so proud, but maybe with a sense of guilt. "She doesn't have to do this on my behalf. She could permanently screw up her knee, here. She's so brave." And yeah, I cried again. I just loved the partnership and the artistry of the whole thing. How can these skaters, for instance, spin at exactly the same rate over and over and over again, despite their weight differences, etc.? I was amazed. Anyway, the reward for their bravery was a silver medal. Incredible.

What's so amazing about Philip Yancey's hair?

Blackhead.

Sorry gang--this is as good as it gets. This was an especially gooby hairstyle day for me, but you can somewhat see the deep blackness. Let me confess: the black is cool. This won't be my last time.

Also, check out me and Didi with the pals on the bridge in Pittsburgh! Fun weekend away. Why did they have such problems getting over the hump until we came to visit? Coincidence? Probably not.

sheesh.

People. If you are here, you are to be pitied.

I have a hatfull of ideas I think of as "Good Posting Subjects", but dang if I don't have any time for such merriment. I don't call people back, my hotmail box is so full the corners are getting bent on most of the mail in there.

What can I say? I apologize. But I refuse to come here to the Chew out of guilt. I will post when I will. I'm sorry, all right? I'm sorry. Some days I just feel behind, and like I'll never get ahead. Like Toby: