JonGorey.com

Yikes that's cold! I mean, don't get me wrong, I like the cold . But it all happened so fast , didn't it? I feel like fall -- my favorite season -- gets shortchanged, lost in the shuffle: It doesn't really get going until mid-September, and by November 1 there are already holiday commercials popping up. Then, before you know it, you find yourself paralyzed with cold, shivering in the darkness of 4:45pm. BUT, there is much joy to be found in our new season, if you can somehow roast that mind-shattering chill out of your bones. How, you ask? Simple! Get cozy. An Irish pub is a nice place to get toasty, tucked away from the cold clutches of Old Man Winter. A little place like the Irish Village in Brighton, say. Protected from the elements, nestled up next to friends or dashing strangers, you're getting warmer already. Sip a butterbeer. Or any malty brew, really. Such as Kona Pipeline Porter or Sam Adams Winter Lager. Yum. Both available (I think) at the Ir...

I just finished "The Fiddler in the Subway," a collection of feature stories by Washington Post writer Gene Weingarten. It's one of the best books I've read in years: hilarious, heartbreaking, and human. But the title story -- the Pulitzer Prize-winning one about renowned violinist Joshua Bell performing in a D.C. subway station and the commuters who paid him absolutely no mind -- is the one that moved me the most. It often surprises coworkers or acquaintances to hear that I used to be a busker, singing in streets and subways, but it’s actually a fundamental part of who I am. It’s a role I identify with more than any other – the free-spirited minstrel – and for good reason: street performance is where music, travel, friendliness and generosity all intersect. “They are the ghosts.” I can tell you from experience that Weingarten’s story hit on many truths, both beautiful and discouraging. Nearby merchants understandably care more about your volume than whether ...

Dance by Lissa Schneckenburger 2010, Footprint Records Running by the ocean at sunset, I was listening to the lilting, Celtic notes of a fiddle. As I inhaled the salt air in gulps and looked out at the gray sea, I could almost convince myself it was Galway Bay out there beside me. But that couldn't be true. For one, the Boston skyline was just ahead. Also, I was far too busy busking and drinking in Ireland to ever do any jogging. Anyway, the fiddle was courtesy of Dance by Lissa Schneckenburger. Lissa -- a student of traditional New England music, which is heavily influenced by the Celtic regions -- recently recorded a pair of concept albums, where she researched and resurrected nearly forgotten folk songs from the Northeast. The first, 2008's Song , focused on ballads, while Dance , released in September, is an entirely instrumental collection of fiddle and dance tunes. (If you can't find a partner -- or, like me, simply don't like to dance -- it does make g...

I remember reading a story about H&M when they first opened up stateside, where the CEO or spokesperson referred to it as "disposable fashion." The clothes are stylish and cheap, but poorly made. (To wit, my wedding suit was from H&M; the pants were unraveling at the seam by the end of the ceremony.) And the whole idea is: that's ok. You buy a cheap-but-trendy sweater, wear it to your big party, maybe once more, and when it starts to pill/tear/shrink, so what -- it's out of fashion anyway, or you're sick of it, and it's time to buy a new one. It’s similar with printers, an industry that mastered the now widespread practice of discounting its basic equipment only to rob consumers on refills. When our 5-year-old printer was acting up a few weeks ago, do you think we got it repaired? Of course not! We went out and bought a new one, for just $30 after rebate. It would have cost at least twice that to get it repaired. I think this is part -- perhaps ...

Or are you more of a planner? Well, now's your chance to find out. It's like a real-life  Cosmo quiz , but without all the mindlessness and tampon ads. So here's your quiz: Edgar and I, a.k.a. The Decks, are playing Thursday night -- which may be tonight by the time you see this -- back at the Irish Village in Brighton. Short notice you say? Well, summer is the season for impulse. When an idea strikes you, you can actually do it — because it's not snowing out! And some of life's best experiences are those that present themselves out of nowhere at the last minute. Like a spare ticket to Game 4 of the 2004 ALCS, for instance. (For the record, our show doesn't promise to be anything quite so historic or exhilarating as The Game That Changed My Life. But you might enjoy yourself nevertheless.) If this just sounds too crazy, too hectic, and poorly thought out, then come see us on Thursday, Sept. 9, at Paddy Barry's in Quincy. You've got plenty of...

I’ve written about this before – how an excess of choice can actually be more crippling than freeing. No place embodies this concept quite like the free will bonanza that is Faneuil Hall in Boston. If you don’t live here, or have somehow managed not to visit the 2nd most famous tourist attraction in a city chock full of tourist attractions, Faneuil Hall is an all-pedestrian shoptropolis/engine of commerce in the heart of the city. It is perhaps the most shining success story in the mixed bag that was 20th-century urban renewal. Inside the main building is an extreme food court, a long corridor with vendors hawking just about every food imaginable at a pretty good mark-up. A hungry luncher ambling down that hallway usually wears the same expression as a 7-year-old at Toys ‘R’ Us on December 23. The possibilities are tempting and limitless. Which is why, after you’ve made your decision, found a free table, and eaten your lunch amongst the bustle… you...

Well hey there! It's been awhile, eh? I hope you’re enjoying your summer! And it sure is summer. Around this time last year, after the second rainiest June on record, we were still wondering where the hell summer was. (Just futzing around in 2010, apparently.) Now, I love the 15-hour days and 75-degree nights of midsummer. But I am a fair-skinned, sweaty fella. (As I type, I am the color of a savory, boiled crustacean, and just as drippy.) I don’t do well in the obscene heat and relentless sunfire. In fact, last summer, just when it finally started to warm up, me and the missus escaped to Ireland -- where we were able to wear sweaters and jeans and drink tea under a murky grey sky. It was glorious. (I believe at one point I said, “Suck it, 95 degrees!”) All this is to say that a friendly pub and a good pint know no off-season. So if you feel like ducking out of the sun’s scorching rays for a bit this Thursday evening, stop by the Irish Village in Brighton, where my friend Edg...

This Friday will be my last day at  WGBH . Next week I'll be working alongside some esteemed friends at TheStreet.com  — which means that I will no longer report to Big Bird (that tyrant!), but rather the madman behind "Mad Money," Jim Cramer himself. It should be quite the change of pace — wish me luck! The night before my last day at work is exciting in its own right. My friend Edgar and I have thrown together an acoustic duo, a little rock n' roll outfit if you will. We're called the Decks. Our debut gig is this Thursday at the best little pub in the world and we'd like to see you there! Here are the details: Thursday, May 27 Paddy Barry's 1574 Hancock St., Quincy Center (Red Line) 9:30pm / Free! Honestly we're not even sure if we're getting paid for this gig, we're just doing it for the love of music and a good time. We've got a suitcase full of songs for you, and Paddy's is a little gem of a place, with a proper sound ...

I wasn't really in Mexico for the weekend, sadly. It was just really hot, and we couldn't drink the water. And I had some chips and salsa, if that counts for anything. People were so crazy about the water situation! (If you don't live in Boston, quick recap: a big pipe that supplies 2 million of us with drinking water burst on Saturday , and they had to start using untreated water from backup ponds and reservoirs. So we had to boil all tap water for a minute before it was safe to drink. AND make sure to let the boiled water cool down before drinking it, they had to remind the idiots among us.) We were at a Kentucky Derby party at J.J. Foley's Fireside in JP when things went down, and while the bars and restaurants downtown responsibly stopped serving fountain soda and coffee , Foley's would have none of it — they poured me a seltzer at the end of the evening like nothing was amiss. "You'll drink pond water and you'll like it, kid!" But they ...

There is a picture out there, somewhere, of my friend Paul. It is marvelous; it is sublime in its absurdity. His hair is dyed orange, because we were in London, it was 1997, and that was the thing to do. It was meant to be Prodigy red or Sick Boy blonde or something, but it didn't come out right (see photo to your left -- which is not the photo). He is looking upward, squinting, and smiling in a coy-but-drunken way, with engorged lips... like an intoxicated chimpanzee who's just found half a banana in your garbage. He is shirtless. Scratch that, I think he's actually wearing a black bra . How did I forget THAT little tidbit? And someone is reaching into the frame, pinching at his bare chest. I can't even remember the sequence of events that led to this Pulitzer Prize-caliber photograph, and if we graduated in the age of Flickr I'd be able to show it to you. Alas, it's hidden away somewhere safe and secretive. Or perhaps under an old couch cushion ...

Now that I've got dry socks on for the first time in days, I can finally think about something besides water and where to put it. And that brings us to tomorrow: I'll be playing a Saint Patrick's Day show from 4-8pm at the Sweetwater Cafe downtown ( view map ). With a sunny forecast in store, what better way to welcome this annual rite of spring? Come by after work, say hello and have a pint, and just make sure to head home before the combination of Guinness and rebel songs gets you feeling too plucky. Let me address some Frequently Asked Questions: You realize it's a Wednesday night, right? I'm not 25 anymore! I realize that in the past I've dragged you out for 11pm sets on school nights, for which I'm sorry. This is why I requested a happy hour gig. Stop in after work, take off by 6pm, and you could still be in bed by sundown, old-timer! (Or you could stay out 'til all hours, carousing and fighting and whatnot. I'm not your babysitter.) W...

Check that out, right there. For the time being, my alma mater Syracuse is #1 in both college basketball polls. They've been surging all season (27-2! insane), and even in the past few weeks, with their best player banged up, they managed to beat Georgetown (ranked like #10 at the time) and Villanova (#7). Oh, and Providence, which was especially awesome, because a few of us took the 3:30pm Amtrak Miller Lite Express down to Rhode Island to catch the game. (Wait, it's not called the Miller Lite Express? It should be. You really have to pound them, it's only a half-hour ride!) I'd been loosely following the 'Cuse on their season-long ascent, catching a half here and a highlight there. But seeing them play live made it clear: this team is really, really good. I'll be picking them to win the tourney — wait, I mean I would pick them, if I participated in such mischief — and not just out of wistful nostalgia for my college years. I attended two basketball games ...

Gina and I have a theory about surviving winter: at some point, you either have to get the hell away to someplace warm, where you can charge your solar battery, or you have to go all in and embrace the season — skiing, sledding, hot cocoa, roaring fires, snowmen, whatever. It doesn't matter which method you choose, but doing one or the other is essential to dodging the doldrums of midwinter; waiting it out is not an option. This year we decided to welcome winter's icy clutches, and went even colder with a short trip up to Montreal for the long weekend. We love that city, and it's the kind of place that loves you back. We stayed at a super charming B&B ( read my TripAdvisor review if you like) and ate like crazy: mussels steamed in savory broth, fries with homemade spicy garlic mayo, baked onion soup, maple syrup glazed salmon, crepes with nutella and banana, crepes with apples, brie, and maple syrup... you name it, we ate it, and it was all fantastique . The weat...

With some distance now separating myself from many of the songs I've written — let's call that distance "perspective" rather than "age," shall we? — certain songs outlast others, enduring beyond their original context to resonate just as strongly in new chapters of my life. The one that really might be my favorite of all, that still just breaks my heart for some reason, is "Song I Wrote for You." I don't know what it is about this very simple song, but it's never stopped evoking the same profound emotions it did when I first wrote it. It's partly about a girl, of course (isn't it always?). But that's a very small part of it, and certainly not the reason it continues to have such a powerful impact on me. I was supposed to go down to New York that day. There had been some kind of minor bomb scare in the city, and I grew paralyzed with fear about the trip; I couldn't go. I couldn't even leave the apartment. I'm r...