1.Really get to work on figuring out what it is I'm to be doing for the rest of my life. I hear that Boeing may be hiring, so maybe I could be a welder, or maybe a top-brass CEO or something. I've screwed around for far too long, and I need to be thinking about the future. Hell, I'm in my 40s, so I'm expected to hit a "midlife crisis" about now, aren't I? I could get divorced and start hitting on teenagers.
The Melvins With Big Business, Porn, and "Hot Sauce" Butch Darlene. Showbox, 1426 First Ave., 628-3151, www.showboxonline.com. $20 adv./$25 DOS. 8 p.m. Sun., Dec. 31.
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2. Get some kind of "hot rod" and get my forearms covered in stupid '50s-style tattoos, the same as all the rest of these idiot grease-monkey Social Distortion fans have. I could spend a lot of my time talking about cars, or whatever it is these modern Happy Days folks do, plus I can finally start slicking my hair back like Fonzi. I could be yet another rockabilly clone-o-sexual.
3. Start doing video-only interviews. And they have to be poolside, and I don't care where. This is weird for me because I haven't been in a pool in 20 years. I've been near pools but not actually in them.
4. Get Jello Biafra to finally vote Libertarian (yeah, right).
5. Move back to Seattle and see if I can somehow capitalize on this whole grunge thing. Hey, we knew Cobain! I hear he sold a lot of records, so if we're careful, this could work out sweet for us.
6. Change my money-driven workaholic attitude and become a broke, couch-driven alcoholic. Or a rageaholic. I know, I'll become a money-driven rageaholic! Rageahol costs a hell of a lot less than alcohol.
7. Start hanging out in bars I'm not playing in.
8. Learn to play the trumpet. No, wait, the sax, cuz it's easier. I'll move to New York and start listening to a lot of goose-honking jazz sax bullshit, only now it will be me doing the goose honking. I'll score big as an "Ava(nt) Garde(ner)" composer (heavy on the "poser"), and I won't need to waste time practicing the way I do now with the guitar. I won't even need a band. I can just throw together a bunch of hacks who also hate to practice yet nonetheless consider themselves hotshot players, and we can be yet another in a long, LONG line of train-wreck horseshit passing itself off as "jazz."
9. Try to join the Teamsters.
10. Talk the rest of the world out of using the metric system.