JonGorey.com

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...