The Big Rock

The Big Rock. Chris Shaefer. I miss you buddy. 

I get up every day, and I swear, at some point you cross my mind. It's been that way for a couple of years. Usually when I'm on a hunt shopping for stuff, I'll see something and think to myself, "Hey, I wonder if Chris could use this stuff?" 

You know, something goofy, like sharpies, or tape, or lemon pepper seasoning, or a thermal shirt from Old Navy, or, I dunno, Tapatio, or candy and other silly American goods.

Your passing away only makes it worse. 

As the band gets ready to prepare for the recording of our next record, you're face...... no, your you...... crosses my mind. All versions of the Chris I know. It's been rough, man. Trying to picture a tour over there without you navigating the ship. We've done a couple with Jonathan in Spain, but that was always a different scene. It meant a great deal to me when we did the tour and you drove- the one when Jonathan toured the Germs. It was great to bring you guys together because you guys are special people. 

Going to Italy with Suz in tow, or France with the Burning Heads. Rocking it with Dudu and Bender the last couple of summers. I wish I'd written it all down. American Dogs In Europe was a good start, but it wasn't supposed to be the whole story.

I wrote up some of it in a coloring book, I don't know if you ever saw me working on it. I usually did it late at night when everyone was asleep, like they are right now. I'm at home, and it's peaceful except for a suspense movie on TV providing the static in the back. 

Damn, I wish I could sleep. I know you remember those sleep cycles and habits. Yours were way worse. Oh well. I'm going to jump brother. You know where to find me. Drop in and say, "Hi" when you can. I'm always ready to talk whenever you can, and wherever you are.