Tag Archives: sFshzenKlyrn

Usual Rubbish

Looking back.

Are you sure that happened in 2007? I’m pretty sure it was in 2006, but if you say so, I guess I’m wrong. The years all fold into one another, don’t they? I was just saying that last year, and … well … there you have it,

Oh, hi. Just playing a little game of total recall here with Marvin (my personal robot assistant). Now, of course, he can’t say much aside from a few metallic squeaking sounds, but he can give me tickertape readouts like any good electronic brain from the middle of the last century. We’re trying to recall when our first subterranean tour happened. Hell, I don’t know why I don’t just look at our old blog pages instead of relying on Marvin’s Commodore-era processor. (Except that when I wrote those blog posts back in the day, it was on a computer almost as primitive as him.)

Did we actually do this at some point? 'Fraid so.I suppose more than a few of you have noticed that we don’t do a lot of tours anymore. Maybe the occasional day trip to a distant asteroid once in a blue moon (not to mention the gig we did on that blue moon once), that sort of thing. We have become more sedentary over the passing years, and one glance at those old blog posts confirm it. God knows, back in THOSE days we were sailing off to distant solar systems at the drop of a hat, teaming up with extraterrestrial guitarists (like sFshzenKlyrn of the planet Zenon, a real shredder), braving all manner of threat and hostile conditions. Heady times indeed!

Well, that was then. Now we hang around the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, wandering our way into our makeshift studio a few times a week to record songs or podcasts or what have you. Some would say we have given up. Others would say we’re a bunch of useless assholes who don’t deserve the time of day. Still others might argue that our dietary preferences are an abomination and run counter to the laws of god and man. Who am I to say that any of them are wrong? Busted!

We’re about looking forward, not backward. That’s the only way I can keep myself from walking into walls. I’m a practical man, some might say.

Usual Rubbish

Last straw.

Well, at least we have a week to pack. That’s something. What? Mitch sent himself back in time a week and is demanding that we leave now? For crying out loud, I hate when he does that.

Okay, so you know that we live with a mad scientist. And if you know that, you probably knows that he has a tendency to obsess about outer space matters. Whether you knew it or not, it’s happening again, this time over star KIC 8462852, which is flickering at odd interviews. Some have suggested that this is due to some undiscovered alien Megastructure, but I am skeptical. I cannot, however, say the same for Mitch, who is intrigued by this speculative feat of engineering know-how. He wants to see how they built THEIR megastructure so that he can build his OWN. The man has a competitive streak a parsec wide.

Of course, it’s not wise to ignore the entreaties of a mad scientist. And we’ve been collecting some dust in recent years, to be sure, so Big Green got its tiny heads together and decided to do some impromptu interstellar busking as a means of accommodating Mitch’s obsession. We thought we’d borrow a spacecraft, head out towards Zenon (home of our occasional sit-in guitarist sFshzenKlyrn), and stop by KIC 8462852 (or ‘852 for short) along the way. If there turns out to be a Megastructure erected on the mysterious star, we will see if they take terrestrial bookings. Could be a decent venue there, you never know. No Megastructure? Well …. we try to cope with Mitch’s disappointment in some non-explosive fashion (hopefully).

Road trip!That of course puts us back into the spacecraft rental market. Never a good place to be, especially in this economy and with the election coming up. It’s just hard to get a low parsec ion-drive ship that can hold more than a couple of vertically challenged astronauts. We not only have our own asses, but an entourage and a whole load of equipment. (If the mansized tuber accompanies us, as he has threatened to do, we will need a greenhouse on board as well.) We’re considering a kickstarter campaign, frankly. Either that or hiring a grant writer. (Isn’t that just a fancy term for counterfeiting? If so, why the hell doesn’t Mitch just invent some freaking money for a change.)

Hey … if you have any suggestions, I’d love to hear them. Just drop them in the comment field. And if you have a reliable map to ‘852, drop that in as well.

Usual Rubbish

Gearing up.

You know, any other band would be talking about a summer tour right about now. But that’s what “normal” bands do. They play in front of actual people and stuff. Big Green? Not so much.

There must be SOME clubs out there...Here’s the thing about Big Green. We are not a “normal” band. We are a musical collective, a band of brothers, a loose association of critters, a gaggle of organisms, a … I don’t know, something else that implies more than one of us. And weird. The very suggestion of a “summer tour” brings to mind something quite different from what most people picture. We’re not rolling into Akron or Missoula, playing in a urine-soaked noise cave, and sleeping on someone’s floor. No, sir – typically, we’re sleeping in the urine-soaked cave. That cave? It’s called the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, our adopted home.

Okay, so we never, ever do normal tours. I’m not saying we never will, but everyone ELSE is saying it, so who am I to argue? No, sir … when we go on tour, it’s not the usual plainclothes, indie circuit – it’s in outer space, on other planets, in other solar systems, and so on. Actually, one time, we did an inner space tour, deep beneath the Earth’s crust, but that was the one exception. So if you heard us, and it was after 1993, you would have had to either (a.) tunneled to the planet’s chewy center or (b.) traveled to Neptune, Jupiter, or the Crab Nebula. Unlikely, I admit.

Anyway, when we want to do a summer tour, we start by looking up. Way up. Hey, think of it this way. The Hubble Space Telescope, now 25 years in flight, has demonstrated that the visible universe is far busier a place than we had ever previously imagined, with fields of literally millions of galaxies within view. In short, there are a lot of punters out there – a lot more than you’ll find down here on old Terra Firma. So what use is it trying to hit it big in America or England or India? We want to be big in M24 and environs. Fuck the Milky Way – it’s podunk, according to sFshzenKlyrn, and he should know … he was DISCOVERED by the Hubble.

So, yeah … there may be a voyage this summer. Grass is always greener in the next galaxy cluster over.