Tag Archives: gravity

Usual Rubbish

Taking Thanks.

2000 Years to Christmas

Everyone assembled? Good. What’s that? Marvin, you’re not assembled yet? Okay, hold everything, people. Where’s Marvin’s quick-start manual?

Oh, hello, everyone. Well, the holidays are upon us once again – a very special time in the world of Big Green, I can tell you. It has been said that we know how to celebrate Christmas like no other alt-rock band in history. Now, I don’t know who said that exactly and how they would know, but that’s what I’ve been told, and I’m sticking to my story. In any case, it’s undeniably true that few rock bands have started their recording careers with ostensible Christmas albums, and that we are among that very intimate club of unfortunates. What we haven’t done, of course, is release a Thanksgiving collection, but I don’t think we’re alone there. And I’m not counting albums that were released around Thanksgiving … not the same damn thing at all!

Okay, well … not sure where I was going with that. Let’s just say that, here in the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, we’re all thankful for a number of enumerated blessings, including many that don’t often receive the thanks they deserve, such as:

Our Roof – Often underrated and unappreciated, our roof keeps the rain off of us for the most part, particularly the parts that don’t have gaping holes in them. Marvin (my personal robot assistant) would be a rusting hulk fit for naught if it weren’t for the remarkable weather-defeating properties of this amazing human invention. Indispensable!

Our Floor – Constantly overlooked (largely due to its location relative to our normal line of sight as humans), the floor of the Cheney Hammer Mill is an important part of the supporting infrastructure beneath us that keeps us from falling through the Earth’s crust into the hot, chewy center of our planet. Trust me – after surviving a subterranean tour or two, we fully understand the danger!

Hold on, Granny! Here's what you can be thankful for ...

The Air – Hey, it’s easy to forget the stuff you get for free, right? Corporate capitalism has yet to put a price tag on the air we breathe, and so, for the time being, it is still part of what remains of the commons, in the wake of capitalist enclosure. Sure, they may stick it in bottles and sell it to you by the foot-pound while you’re lying in a hospital bed, but short of that, open your windows wide and help yourself to an endless supply of life-giving gasses. You’re welcome!

Gravity – Who says science has to have a satisfactory answer for everything before we can fully appreciate it? Let’s hear it for freaking gravity – that mysterious magnetic power that keeps us from flying off into space and exploding into a cloud of atomized protoplasm. I know it has its problematic aspects, as those who have hung from a cliff or two may attest, but by and large, it’s a lifesaver, and for that we can’t thank gravity enough. (Don’t forget – without gravity, air, floors, and ceilings are basically useless.)

I could go on, but then you’d hate me for keeping you from your holiday dinners. So let me end by saying THANK YOU for listening. Now, start gorging … and remember – no gravity, no feast.

Usual Rubbish

Fighting gravity.

Shore it up, boys. Let’s keep the roof on this thing. Sure, it used to be the floor, but when something’s keeping the rain off your head, it’s a roof. Unless it’s a hood … or an umbrella. Never mind.

Hey, well, here we are again, man. Trying to keep a broken home together. I don’t mean that daddy left and ain’t coming back (even though that’s roughly true); I mean we’re fixing a hole where the rain came in … and it’s the size of the freaking roof. We’re borrowing wood from the floor to shore up the roof. We’re borrowing planks from the south wall to block up the gaping hole in the north wall. This is like the fabled Ship of Theseus. This isn’t a home … it’s a philosophical paradox! Is it the same potting shed as when we moved here? Only your logic professor can say for certain.

Sure, sometimes the demands of home ownership (or home occupancy) keep us from our real work, the work we were put here to do. And that’s a good thing. I don’t feel like filling potholes today. And when the hell is this town going to invest in a pothole killer, for crying out loud? What do I refrain from paying my taxes for, eh? I mean, what is my lack of money buying? (Perhaps Lincoln can tell me.) Well, as you can see, this is distracting, and it is keeping us from the important job of producing more Big Green songs and sending them out into the cybersphere, where they can begin lives of their own and toil in silent obscurity.

See what I mean, Lincoln? We need this.

That’s not to say that we haven’t been writing songs. No, that’s still happening with some regularity. It’s the part about fixing the songs in some moderately sophisticated way to an electronic medium that will allow them to be conveyed to other people’s ears at a time of their choosing. That thing we haven’t been doing a lot of. Hell, we’re just getting to the point of mixing the group of songs we started at the beginning of the year. Now if that isn’t slow, I don’t know what slow is. Though I do know it’s not as fast as fast. That’s just logic, my friends. Ship of Theseus stuff. Look it up.

Anyway, back to the hammer and nails. (We took those out of the floorboards, too.)

Usual Rubbish

Money tree.

I don’t know, man. My pressure suit is a little frayed around the elbows. I don’t even know where I left my magnetic boots. We’re probably not ready for that, but … if you insist. Jesus.

Ah, hello. Band meeting. Joe’s here, that’s all I can confirm. No one else wants to go on the record, including Marvin (my personal robot assistant), though he has appeared on at least one of our records, truth be told. (Forgive the double-entendre.) We’ve been tossing around ideas for generating a little cash, as the Big Green collective has been struggling a bit of late. The obvious remedy would be another tour, probably of the interstellar variety, but as I was saying earlier, our gear is threadbare as hell and we don’t even have a line on a spaceship rental. God knows what we would cross that trackless void in this time around.

Well, to be sure, the lure of money drives humankind to desperate means. We could probably wrangle a string of marginal gigs between Neptune and Aldebaran, though I’m not clear on how lucrative the exercise would turn out to be. The exchange rate on Quatloos is in the toilet these days. And between the two of us, I’m getting a little long in the tooth for space travel – not sure I could hold my breath long enough to get to Neptune, to say nothing of destinations beyond the Kuiper Belt. Also … we’re short a guitar player. Just saying.

Sounds like a tour

Not that playing gigs is the only way to shake the money tree. Every musician runs into this situation at various points in her/his career. What’s it going to be? Washing dishes? Done it. Carrying boxes and stocking shelves? Done that, too. Driving a cab? Well … I haven’t done that, but I came close once or twice. Then there’s Mitch’s idea. You might recall how he’s been experimenting with gravity. Well, he was musing on how to monetize his new technology, and it struck him that people pay for water, they pay for electricity, they pay for heating fuel … maybe he could get them to pay for gravity. He’s thinking about doing a market test – namely, sending gravity bills to our neighbors. If they don’t pay, he would train his anti-grav ray on their houses and claim that their service had been discontinued. That’s when the simoleons start rolling in.

Okay, well … there may be nicer ways to make a living.  Like … I don’t know … playing music, perhaps.