Year seventeen.

Aren’t you sick of the Gregorian calendar? I’m thinking we should start calculating time on the basis of how long we’ve been blogging. So hell … call this Year 17. Happy 17! Four more years and we can drink in front of our parents! (Four years of what we’ve got coming, and I suspect we will need to.)

I know you’re all wondering what we’ve got planned for the new year. I know this because I can read your mind like a billboard. Just call me Kreskin. Or Criswell. Whichever works … just be sure to preface it with “THE AMAZING … ” or I’ll have to bring my $3.95 magic set back to the toy store, top hat and all. (Some Christmas THIS turned out to be!) Anyway, as I said, I’m sure you’re wondering, and if you are, well, you’re not alone, because we’re wondering what the hell Big Green is going to do this year, too. Maybe call a contractor to fix the leaky windows in the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill. (Question: Is a large, jagged hole in the glass considered a “leak”?)

There’s been talk of another album. I mean, a Big Green album, of course, not just some random album we picked up at the second hand store. (Though there has been talk of that, too.) The next obvious project would be a collection of Ned Trek related songs, upgraded and in some cases re-recorded from the versions on our podcast, THIS IS BIG GREEN. We wrote about 15 or 16 songs last year, maybe more, and re-recorded some older pieces, so there’s enough material, particularly when you consider the 30 or so from the previous two years. Of course, Matt walks in with a new song practically every week, so about all I can do is try to keep up with the fucker. FUCKER!

I think the dictionary is in Smith's quarters. Get it.Hoo-boy, there’s an echo in here. And I’m getting dirty looks from the neighbors, so I should wrap this up. Will we be doing any live performances this year? Don’t know. It’s always a possibility. Matt talks about it from time to time, and I certainly think about it. There’s the logistical issue, of course, and then there’s …. well … making it sound like something more than pure suckitude. But those are relatively minor problems in the grand scheme of things.

What does that mean, exactly? Not sure. I will consult Marvin (my personal robot assistant), whose electronic brain is programmed to interpret the most abstruse sentences imaginable. Hope his batteries are fully recharged.

 

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