Life goes on. We drank a toast to Mike at the Rufus Wainwright show last night. (Don't know if Mike was a fan, but it wouldn't surprise me.) An intimate venue, and a fantastic show. I don't think I've ever seen an audience held in such a trance. While the songs were intense, Rufus was jovial in between, joking a lot about being on a diet because his mother said he was fat recently. And because it was just him, he was free to rearrange his songs on the fly, and skip over or redo bits at will. An enormous talent. I never realized what a good piano player he is, too.

We both thought about Mike again during a song Rufus did about Jeff Buckley, who died tragically at a young age. Who frew da ham?

By an odd coincidence -- I watched an old M*A*S*H rerun earlier in the day. It was the one where the nurses all get sent off, and it featured a folk singer that played a sad song in the officer's club. In the closing credits it was revealed that the singer was Loudon Wainwright III, Rufus's father.

Sadness. Our friend Mike has died, far too young. We met in Atlanta, as a result of our mutual Elvis Costello fandom. His blog was consistently our favorite, and we've linked to it many times here.

His last blog entry has become the place for tributes.

Just before we left the states, we took a last trip to NYC, where we got to see David Bowie in an intimate venue. That was all Mike's doing; he scored the tickets through his musical connections.

I have a handful of other memories of Mike, and they're almost all gems; an Elvis show in Nashville, Steve Earle and Nick Lowe shows in Atlanta. Beyond that, some parties, some dinners, an occasional email.

It's hard for me to characterize just how decent a person he was, both globally and locally. It was my good fortune to know him. Go easy, my man.

In between shows. Last night we caught The Shins at the Corner Hotel. I wasn't too familiar with them going in, besides liking some songs. But they're from Albuquerque NM, so I was subconciously expecting them to be, well, inconsistent. But they were anything but.

So rare for good bands to come out of smaller markets. The only other one I can think of is Built To Spill out of Boise, Idaho. Any others?

Tomorrow night we have an evening planned with Rufus Wainwright. Very exciting.

Alas. I caught the first half at home, a bit of the second half at the casino, then monitored the game at work via the internet. It seemed whenever I was watching, the Eagles did well. So their losing is obviously all my fault.

Something else was missing -- the Super Bowl isn't the same without the million dollar Super Bowl commercials.

All this talk of "dynasty" in regards to the Pats. Winning three Super Bowls by three points each does not a dynasty make, in my book. If they are, they must be the most boring dynasty ever. They play football with German efficiency.

Speaking of bitterness (and nailbiters), I think I'll finally quit biting my nails, thanks to a new product -- Stop That! by Manicare -- that's like clear nail polish, but is extremely bitter (and non-toxic). I made it through most of the day without biting today, but got a good nasty taste a couple of times this evening.

I like the name -- "Stop That!". It's like having Marjorie in a bottle! Ha ha.

Super Bowl Monday! Monday morning here, and I'm home watching the Super Bowl. Eagles looking a little tentative so far but are starting to settle in. The dog is trying to relax next to me, but keeps jumping up when I shout out the TV. The game started later than I thought, so I'm probably going to have to miss the second half, as I'm expected in at work at lunchtime.

Metamorphosis' Valentine's Day limerick contest is back. The subjects this year are medical pioneers, microscopic animals, and skin conditions. We'll be back to defend our crown.