Gonzo country singer-songwriter Greg Wood couldn't exactly be said to have been riding high, but he certainly was percolating along. His critically acclaimed band Horseshoe was gigging all over the city, their third album in the can. Justice Records agreed to nationally distribute King of the World, their second album, and it seemed for a time that the literate and hilarious barroom bard's fame just might radiate beyond Houston. That was when he collapsed. Doctors diagnosed a potentially fatal case of infectious heart disease. Wood spent a month in Ben Taub recovering from heart surgery, and then another recovering from a secondary infection that eventually destroyed his right eye. Wood's travails weren't over yet -- the powerful regimen of antibiotics destroyed his inner ear, and Wood had to spend another year relearning to walk. Meanwhile, Horseshoe disbanded, and Wood thought his musical career was over. Jesse Dayton's bass player, Charlie Sanders, had other plans. Sanders coaxed Wood from retirement and into the studio, and now Wood's Dayton-produced solo debut, Ash Wednesday, is in stores, and Wood is gigging again.

With a little imagination, concertgoers might have transported themselves back to the '60s, when the Astrodome was the brand-new wonder of the sports world and the young Dylan was a messianic folksinger with a global following. The Dome may be ready for scrap, but Dylan proved he's still got plenty of artistic life left in him. After a shaky start, he latched on to a country-rock groove so strong that not even the venue's awful acoustics could stop him from winning over the rodeo audience. Forever young, indeed.

With a little imagination, concertgoers might have transported themselves back to the '60s, when the Astrodome was the brand-new wonder of the sports world and the young Dylan was a messianic folksinger with a global following. The Dome may be ready for scrap, but Dylan proved he's still got plenty of artistic life left in him. After a shaky start, he latched on to a country-rock groove so strong that not even the venue's awful acoustics could stop him from winning over the rodeo audience. Forever young, indeed.

What if we got that Adam-and-Eve-in-the-Garden thing all wrong? What if it was actually Adam and Steve who named the animals, along with some help from Jane and Mabel, who lived just down the Garden path? That's the premise behind Paul Rudnick's hysterical The Most Fabulous Story Ever Told, brought to charming life last Christmas by director Joe Watts at his Theatre New West. In Rudnick's wild gay Eden, Adam falls for Steve, Jane adores Mabel, and straight people (who don't appear for centuries) are kind of, well, icky. The story is of course fabulous. But a lot of what made Watts's production so terrific was his energetic cast of beautiful people, which included a hunky Adam Clarke as the original man and Jenny Yau as Mabel, the airy earth-girl who explained her female anatomy to Adam and Steve this way: "We have vaginas. They are our friends." The show also covered political ground, touching on everything from gay parenthood to AIDS, but none of it came off as bombastic or redundant. Watts and company handled Rudnick's lacerating observations about gay life with dead-on comic timing and a truthful sweetness that made this yummy show one of the best of the season, gay or not.

What if we got that Adam-and-Eve-in-the-Garden thing all wrong? What if it was actually Adam and Steve who named the animals, along with some help from Jane and Mabel, who lived just down the Garden path? That's the premise behind Paul Rudnick's hysterical The Most Fabulous Story Ever Told, brought to charming life last Christmas by director Joe Watts at his Theatre New West. In Rudnick's wild gay Eden, Adam falls for Steve, Jane adores Mabel, and straight people (who don't appear for centuries) are kind of, well, icky. The story is of course fabulous. But a lot of what made Watts's production so terrific was his energetic cast of beautiful people, which included a hunky Adam Clarke as the original man and Jenny Yau as Mabel, the airy earth-girl who explained her female anatomy to Adam and Steve this way: "We have vaginas. They are our friends." The show also covered political ground, touching on everything from gay parenthood to AIDS, but none of it came off as bombastic or redundant. Watts and company handled Rudnick's lacerating observations about gay life with dead-on comic timing and a truthful sweetness that made this yummy show one of the best of the season, gay or not.

Yep, one of the most renowned concert poster artists in the country lives right here in our own backyard. Jermaine Rogers was creating posters for the Strokes long before they were hyped to the eyeballs. And his list of clients reads as a who's who of hip and cool music: Radiohead, the Breeders and Weezer, to name a few. Just go to his Web site and you're bound to find one of your favorite artists among his collection. Each poster paints a fantastic scene that says, "If you don't get your ass to this show, you'll be sorry." With collectors all over the world, Rogers has put Houston on the concert poster map and done us proud. So the next time a brightly colored print catches your eye at a local venue, or the neighborhood head shop, be sure to give Jermaine his props. He's probably the one responsible.

Yep, one of the most renowned concert poster artists in the country lives right here in our own backyard. Jermaine Rogers was creating posters for the Strokes long before they were hyped to the eyeballs. And his list of clients reads as a who's who of hip and cool music: Radiohead, the Breeders and Weezer, to name a few. Just go to his Web site and you're bound to find one of your favorite artists among his collection. Each poster paints a fantastic scene that says, "If you don't get your ass to this show, you'll be sorry." With collectors all over the world, Rogers has put Houston on the concert poster map and done us proud. So the next time a brightly colored print catches your eye at a local venue, or the neighborhood head shop, be sure to give Jermaine his props. He's probably the one responsible.

The gimmick behind Alan Ayckbourn's House and Garden is irresistible. And no place in town was better suited to capitalize on this cleverness than the Alley Theatre. House and Garden is billed as two plays. Each focuses on a different set of characters, but all the characters from one show appear in the other. To complicate matters further, both plays run simultaneously. The actors must have gotten quite a workout running up and down the backstage stairs. On the Main Stage we got to see all the hullabaloo in Teddy Platt's drawing room. Meanwhile, downstairs in the Neuhaus Theatre, lots of lovemaking took place in Teddy's garden. Once you saw one story, you had to see the other. You just had to find out about the strange ménage à trois going on with the servants. And life wouldn't be complete if you couldn't find out why Teddy's beautiful wife wouldn't speak to him. The twin plays were like exquisitely written soap operas: The first one you saw hooked you into seeing the other.

The gimmick behind Alan Ayckbourn's House and Garden is irresistible. And no place in town was better suited to capitalize on this cleverness than the Alley Theatre. House and Garden is billed as two plays. Each focuses on a different set of characters, but all the characters from one show appear in the other. To complicate matters further, both plays run simultaneously. The actors must have gotten quite a workout running up and down the backstage stairs. On the Main Stage we got to see all the hullabaloo in Teddy Platt's drawing room. Meanwhile, downstairs in the Neuhaus Theatre, lots of lovemaking took place in Teddy's garden. Once you saw one story, you had to see the other. You just had to find out about the strange ménage à trois going on with the servants. And life wouldn't be complete if you couldn't find out why Teddy's beautiful wife wouldn't speak to him. The twin plays were like exquisitely written soap operas: The first one you saw hooked you into seeing the other.

Man, the battle for the title was a tough one. It came down to the wire between the Roxy calendar, which had its lucky den of calendar girls going full-monty this year, and the Barberdolls.com calendar, which had its ladies in exhibitionist Aguilera-esque outfits, coming up with new and inventive uses for barbershop equipment. But Life as a Sport suddenly piqued our interest. For starters, it featured not scantily clad or nekkid women but chiseled, occasionally bare-chested men. But this calendar wasn't conceived as an item for the ladies -- and a few dudes -- to stare at. Accompanied by the poetry of Joseph Washington, who came up with the calendar's concept, the photos are portraits of men using everyday sporting activities as a method of striving through life's rough terrains -- sports as therapy. Many of the stark black-and-white photos, captured by Harry Guary, are reminiscent of the pics Howard Bingham shot of Muhammad Ali. Life as a Sport may not have girls in Helmut Newton poses or flashin' booty like they're in Players Magazine, but it does give you something deeper to think about.