The Newest Member

It's official -- SPiL has added a member to the band.

His name is a Jackson. A 2 pound Velveteen Lop. In two days he's already proven that he considers himself an integral member of the band: he peed on Brian's amp.

Finally, I'm not the only critic in the band.

Look for more pics of Jackson in the coming weeks.

The Feet

If you've never seen us play live then you've never seen one of the more unusual elements of Brian's set-up when he plays. Aside from the two amps (Peavey and Crate), aside from the pedal board with the boutique pedals, and aside from the two Reverend guitars, Brian also brings his own little blue rug to play on and he plays barefoot.

I began to realize this was unusual when I would get our digital camera back from people who I would ask to take pics for us at shows. Invariably there would be several shots of Brian's feet, naked as the day he was born, on his blue rug.

The bare feet have become so commonplace for us that we don't even notice it anymore. But others notice because here is a guy, shredding on his guitar, playing barefoot on a blue rug.

"Why is that so strange?" Brian asked one night after a show.
"Because the last time anyone did that it was 1967."
"Oh yeah." He eats a spoonful of cereal. "No wait. The guy In Living Color sang barefoot."
"Who's going to remember that?"

And so here's Brian's feet next his pedal board. Why the bare feet?
"I want to feel like I'm in my living room."
It's true. On stage he looks exactly as he does when he's in our living room. He sits on the floor in front of the TV, an amp next to him, the pedal board in front of him and he plays.
"See? It's just like when I'm at home."
So, this is probably why we're not cool. If you see us in a club, we act like we're at home. We're not 'rock stars' -- we're people who should be playing music at home but we're playing outside.

In Chalk

Both of us write with chalk all the time. We're teachers. Chalk is an occupational hazard. Five days a week, Brian and I come home with white, chalky patches on our clothes. Some days I see a whole hand print of chalk on his pants from where he rested his own hand. Meanwhile, I've spent whole afternoons with a white smudge mark on my chin. A woman in a store once pointed it out to me when I was waiting to check out.
"You have something on your face," she said.
"Oh God..." I said. Then I when I saw the white residue on my hands, I added "I'm a teacher," and smiled weakly.

But on Saturday, for the first time in years, I was happy to see chalk.

So, here it is everyone, Short Punks (minus "the Love") in chalk.