Another month has gone by, so I again gather the dreams I’ve been tweeting to see whether they make any more sense en masse than they do individually. During March, I dreamt of Liam Neeson, James Earl Jones, Ernie Kovacs, Eric Northman, Abraham Lincoln, and—as you’ll see if you read below—many others.

MARCH 2013

I dreamt I sat in a ukulele class and looked down to see I was holding a guitar –and only 15 minutes left, so no time to retrieve my uke! 31 Mar

I dreamt I hopped on a beautiful silver rocket bike, but none of the buttons did anything more than make lights flash. I still had to pedal. 31 Mar

I dreamt I happened to be in a parking lot when Obama and a bunch of kids came out, signed a document of their meeting, then left it behind. 30 Mar

I dreamt I was in Vienna, and in order to mock someone who’d betrayed my friends, I sang him a taunting song in German in a theater lobby. 30 Mar

I dreamt a Beastie Boys-like band was about to record one of my songs at an amusement park, and I waited for the limo to take me there. 30 Mar

I dreamt I was doing a final walk-through with a realtor, making sure everything was ready for our buyers to do _their_ final walk-through. 30 Mar

I dreamt I was in the Marvel Bullpen explaining various ways comics artists make it look like it’s raining — Wite-Out, X-Acto blades, etc. 29 Mar

I dreamt I was in charge of wrangling the entire cast of Babylon 5 at a media con — except for Bruce Boxleitner, who refused to show. 29 Mar

I dreamt the Worldcon was being held in Baltimore, and as I wandered the room parties, I kept repeatedly encountering Mary Turzillo. 29 Mar

I dreamt about telomeres, but … I can’t remember in what context. Was I researching them, having mine extended, eating them? Who knows? 28 Mar

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As Irene and I walked south down Chicago’s Michigan Avenue Saturday, I happened to look to the left at just the right moment to spot the Hulk looking back—because this print by artist Doug Bloodworth was hanging in a gallery window.

Here’s a clearer version of the piece, with the image not obscured by the glare of the street lights.

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The first time I saw Carmine Infantino was at my first comic book convention back in 1970. Or so I assume. After all, he was one of the Guests of Honor there. But being for the first time in the presence of my tribe, I was in a daze, so much of that weekend is a muddled explosion of joy, and I don’t specifically remember meeting him.

The last time I saw him was forty years later at the funeral of Mark Hanerfeld, coincidentally the guy without whom I’d never have made it to that first convention. We chatted a bit, mostly about Mark.

I have no great anecdotes to share about the man who drew the first comic book of the Silver Age, and whose work both in that issue and for decades to come imprinted itself on my soul. I wish I did. And you can find the details of his life and plenty of examples of his talent elsewhere.

But I thought the least I could do to say thanks at a time like this was to share his biography as printed in the program book for that 1970 con which changed my life …

… as well as the back cover, which featured his artwork.

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In 1981, I had a commemorative coin minted to celebrate the fifth anniversary of my marriage to Irene Vartanoff. I was working for Psychology Today magazine at the time, where catalogs would continually arrive from manufacturers of merchandising giveaways—key rings, belt buckles, T-shirts, etc.—that could be personalized. And it struck me—why should companies have all the fun?

So I ordered a batch of metal coins incorporating our names, the dates we’d been married, and—here’s the part that tickled me the most—

… the words LEGAL AND TENDER, a description of our marital status that’s also an allusion to the phrase LEGAL TENDER which appears on U.S. currency.

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When we learned a few months back that the National Gallery of Art would be hosting a massive exhibit on the Pre-Raphaelites, we decided that we’d visit there on my birthday. And when Tim Carman’s review of New Big Wong appeared in the Washington Post just a few days before we were set to go, it seemed like serendipity.

The restaurant was within walking distance of the museum, so it seemed like the perfect spot for a birthday feast, especially after reading that it was “a popular destination for bartenders and restaurant employees in the wee hours,” and seeing that Chef José Andrés of the famed minibar had “eaten there over 50 times” and Jeffrey J. Barrientos, also of minibar, had “dined there 100 times that I can remember.”

So after gorging on the Pre-Raphaelites, my wife and son and I walked a half mile north to New Big Wong, where I expected to gorge far less metaphorically. And also, to be wowed.

I was not.

The dishes we ordered resulted in a bifurcated meal, in that my son and I shared the more adventurous Jelly Fish with Pork Loin …

… and Sauteed Duck Tongue with Black Bean Sauce …

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Whenever I tell people that one of the most joyful parts of the George Formby Society convention I attended two weeks ago was the Thrash, they ask me to explain—what the heck’s a Thrash? And though I tell them it’s that part of a concert during which everyone who wants to is welcome to come up en masse to strum a bunch of songs, it’s hard to really convey the fun of it all.

Much easier to simply show you. And so …

If you scroll ahead to 40:06 on the video below, you’ll see a small part of one of the many Thrashes that took place during the weekend.

Now that you’ve experienced a Thrash, make sure you go back to the beginning and watch the video straight through. Lots of great ukulele playing there!

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The ever-changing Next restaurant is currently in the middle of its meat-heavy menu, The Hunt, which will end April 28, to be replaced by its antithesis, Vegan, beginning May 8.

Those of us who love Next are all wondering what form that new menu will take, and this week, Ulterior Epicure, at the start of The Hunt, was lucky enough to be presented with a single Vegan dish as an amuse-bouche.

And it sure was beautiful.

Wish I didn’t have to wait until my May reservation to find out how it tastes!

I’m about as non-Vegan an eater as you’re likely to find (because everything tastes better with bacon, right?), but when it comes to food cooked at the level that Next can provide—I’m counting down the days.

Back when I was on staff at Marvel Comics and writing the Bullpen Bulletins pages (well, all of it save Stan’s Soapbox), I kept a suggestion box on my desk in which people could drop notes with things they thought worthy of mention.

One day, I opened the box to find this card from Mirthful Marie Severin …

Oh, Marie … I love you!

I was in Blackpool last weekend for the George Formby Society convention, where I met in the flesh friends who’d previously only been virtual, saw some amazing uke players, got a tutorial in Formby-style strumming, and even had a chance to get up and bumble my way through a song in the “Up and Comers” session meant for beginners.

Plus I added a third uke to my collection, on top of the Mitchell concert you’ve seen in all my videos up until now and the Kala pocket uke which I’ve carried as far as Machu Picchu.

But to play George Formby, you need a banjolele, so I headed off to Blackpool hoping to find one I could fall in love with, that fit my budget, and that my friends at the convention would feel delivered both good sound and value. (Believe me, without their advice, I’d never have had the confidence to make a decision.) I was hoping to find a pre-war ukulele, but instead ended up with something as far from vintage as you can get—a new uke completed just a week before the con, handmade by a man named Steve Helme.

Since it was built by a person rather than a company, it doesn’t have a brand name to go with it, but my friends in Blackpool who advised me it was a good deal told me it’s basically a replica of a UB-2.

Check it out below.

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I miss my Dad. And as it turns out, the rest of the Internet misses their Dads, too.

I was checking the search strings that have led people to this blog, and discovered that several hundred people a month have been getting here as a result of looking for words to say when a father passes away.

Here are some examples.

Who knew there were so many variations on that sentiment? I’m amazed. (And there were dozens more.)

I’m not sure whether what people found when they got here helped. But I’d like to think it did. At least a little.