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Up the creek.

What the hell, Mitch. A week ago you didn’t care whether we went on this tour or not, and now you’re acting like the mill is on fire. What’s the matter with you, boy? And don’t point that deadly laser at me – you know how nervous I get about that kind of thing.

Well, it seems like Mitch is in kind of a hurry now to get off this miserable pimple of a planet known as Earth. Not sure what’s behind the sudden change of mood. He woke up in a bit of a mood Wednesday afternoon after a long night of what I assume was mad science experimentation, and now he’s all about planet KIC 8462852. That’s fine and good, right, but if we’re going there in the Plywood 9000 rocket we rented from SpaceY, well … we may have trouble breaking out of Earth orbit. In fact, we may have trouble clearing the treeline. The truth is, that thing isn’t getting off the ground at all.

Nah. That'll never work.What’s our plan B? Not sure we have one. There’s plan 9 from outer space, but hey … that’s a movie. Plan B might be to hunker down in the Cheney Hammer Mill, record some more songs, and venture out only to retrieve nuts and berries from the nearby Adirondack woodlands. Or pizzas from the nearby Adirondack Pizza Parlor. Or beer from the nearby …. well, you get the idea. I’m not at all sure why we opt for these interstellar tours in the first place. They’re not profitable. They’re long and pointless. They’re occasionally dangerous to the point of being life-threatening. But then, a desk job will kill you after 20-25 years, so … it’s probably just as well.

I told you last week about the latest episode of THIS IS BIG GREEN, our podcast, which should be posted soon-ish. We’ve done rough mixes of all 7 songs, and it’s a strange lot, I will admit, but you be the judge. Hey, be the jury as well. What the fuck, go ahead and throw our sorry asses in music jail. At least THAT would keep me from having to climb aboard a Plywood 9000 rocket with a madman at the helm. P.S. …. HAAAALP!

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Big rock, little rock.

Going to Little Rock? But Big Green doesn’t have any fans in Arkansas … at least as far as I know. In fact, we don’t have any fans south of the Mason Dixon line. Not since Cowboy Scat, anyway. What? Oh, okay …. never mind.

Cheese and crackers, I thought we were going way on down south, but apparently we’re going in a very different direction. Out towards KIC 8462852 with a brief stop at the as yet undiscovered Dwarf Planet at the edge of our solar system, and perhaps the undiscovered mystery giant planet as well. So at least our destinations are clear. That’s the easy part. The not-so-easy part? Finding an agent who books that far out in the sticks, so to speak. (Actually, it’s beyond the sticks and into the rocks.) We usually book ourselves in instances such as these, but times being what they are, it’s helpful to have your interstellar ducks in a row before striking out into deep space.

Speaking of ducks, we need to line up reliable transport as well. And yes, I did use the qualifier “reliable” by intention: we tried the other kind of transportation and it didn’t work out so well. This time we’re going with a professional vendor, like SpaceX. Of course, we can’t AFFORD SpaceX because we’re a band full of broke-ass mo-fo’s, so we’ll have to opt for the next best thing. And that, my friends, is a company called SpaceY. (Pronounced “space why?”) It’s the cheap seat version, by an order of magnitude.

Getting there is the issue.So whereas SpaceX has the famed “Falcon 9” rocket with the patented “Dragon” spacecraft, SpaceY offers the not-so-well-known “Plywood 9000” rocket powering its nearly designed (and no, that’s not a typo: it hasn’t been designed yet) “Malaysian Tapir 9000” spacecraft. (They seem to like the number 9000. That would explain their requested down payment.) I know what you’re thinking …. this doesn’t sound like it meets the reliability standard I set forward in the previous paragraph. My only rejoinder to that is, well … that was more than a paragraph ago. Are you going to hold me to EVERYTHING I’ve said in the past? How about gurgling noises I made as an infant – do you plan to hit me with those, too?

Well anyway. Our mad science advisor Mitch Macaphee is going to take me and Marvin (my personal robot assistant) to the SpaceY showroom next week so that we can do a walk through and, perhaps, a test drive. He gave me a life insurance policy to sign as well. Such a thoughtful man!

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Winter pursuits.

Pass the all-spice. Now the dried currents. Okay, now shake this up. Shake harder! HARDER! That’s good. Okay … now we need five coconuts, cracked like hen’s eggs. Hurry, hurry!

Jebus Christmas. It’s so hard to get good ingredients this time of year. How the hell am I supposed to make Madagascarian ratatouille without five coconuts cracked like hen’s eggs? What the hell are we supposed to eat between now and St. Swithun’s day? Coal dust? Hammer handles? (Actually, they’re pretty close to corn on the cob if you close your eyes … and your mouth.) It’s a bit of an issue.

Aside from working on the next episode of THIS IS BIG GREEN, our podcast, and the various songs contained therein, we do try to keep busy here inside the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill as the snow falls in sheets, covering the rolling farmland of upstate New York like a bedspread. It seems to slow everything down to a crawl this time of year. And yes, that is a lame attempt to blame the lateness of our first-of-2015 podcast episode on the weather or some other factor beyond our control. Let’s be honest: we’re freaking useless. But loveable, I like to think.

Yeah, that's the stuff.Tonight Matt and I will return to tracking the new songs we’ve been working on these long, frigid winter weeks. Mostly working on vocals now, though that effort often descends into strange hooting sounds and choruses of background harmonies that incorporate the words “banana boat” in some fashion. I had the temerity to attempt a guitar part the other day … an ELECTRIC guitar part … but thought better of it. Mostly confining myself to keys lately. House keys … and car keys. Now where did I leave that kazoo … ?

Apologies if I seem scattered this week. So much to do, so little time.  Then there’s the ratatouille and the recently discovered planet NASA’s been talking about. We’re considering sending Marvin (my personal robot assistant) up on a scouting missions to see if the new world contains any potential listeners. Could be why he’s been making himself scarce these last few days. COWARD!