Here it comes, like a surreal spin-off of a "Star Trek" convention; like wind blowing through the trees and dropping snow on your head; and like a guaranteed good mood for a week. The buzz about the impending Alaska Folk Festival has been palpable around town for a couple of weeks, and I'll admit I'm looking forward to it myself.

What other week of the year are you obligated to remain in a good mood and be a gracious host to the mobs of friends from out of town that you often don't see any other time of year? The scads of festival-goers bedecked in full folk-fest regalia - festival artist Eric Bealer's outdone himself this year - bring to mind the aforementioned morphodite "Star Trek" convention without the pointy ears. It's almost like tourist season except you know half the people and they're all packing instruments.

Oh yes, I'm looking forward to straining my grinning muscle and being hoarse by Thursday. I can't wait to have sore, greened-up fingertips from playing every day for hours.

And it's really awesome after everybody's gone when you still hear the drone of fiddle music in your head like ringing in the ears after firing a .44 with no ear plugs. It's always that tune, too. The one you can't quite put your finger on but know you heard 1,462 times the week before. As a matter of fact, that's the only song anybody played all week! Oh how I jest, kinda.

The challenge at every one of these folk fests is to make sure you don't get too caught up in catchin' up, and lose sight of the opportunities to play with some really hot musicians. It's easy to get holed up with an old buddy and reminisce for hours while the music passes you by. Over the years I've learned to pace myself, but not very well.

When you're only sleeping for four or five hours a day, it leaves a lot more hours for beer drinking and cavorting. The next thing you know, you're waking up bleary-eyed at noon in an empty jam room at a downtown hotel, all spooned up to and with your leg thrown over your guitar. Again!

You get up, put some shades on and head down to the diner where your pals regale you (in their regalia, of course) about what an awesome session you missed. And all you have to show for it is a fat head and bad guts into which you pile a hot, greasy, salty breakfast and wash 'er down with a Bloody Mary. This has never happened to me, of course, but to a good friend of mine.

While pacing yourself, grab a copy of the schedule on Monday and start scoping it out. I usually go through there with a highlighter and pick out some "can't miss" stuff. I end up missing some of those anyway because I happened onto something else I couldn't miss, but it's a good way to make sure you maximize your enjoyment of this once-a-year epic gathering of music from all over the state and beyond - "Where no man has gone before."

Go forth, be merry, and get out the AC/DC records as soon as the festival is over. See you there.

• Sean Tracey is a Juneau musician who promises to update his picture for Well-Strung next month. Contact him via crabgrassmusic.com or crabgrassalaska@gmail.com.