My younger brother Padraic send this photo accompanied by the following report from April 2012.

“Someone at Billboard Brasil magazine has had the genius-slash-insane-slash-disgusting idea to experiment with alternative ways to play the guitar. A working guitar and amp has been installed in a urinal in the men’s bathroom at Bar Aurora in Sao Paolo so that, yes, you guessed it, you can actually play your music with your pee — and presumably hear your masterful composition echoing through the men’s room. Suddenly all that time spent “drawing” designs in the snow doesn’t seem like such a waste, does it?”

I would hate to see the fret work, but back in 1978 my hillbilly girlfriend had a guitar in our old East Village apartment. Alice played a lot of Joni Mitchell. I liked her version of URGE FOR GOING, but couldn’t tell her, since I was 100% into punk.

Alice had heterochomia iridum or different colored eyes. She was beautiful and funny. I was a brute, but she liked my protection in a city without many laws.

One night we had a big party at our place.

Fifty people jammed into a railroad flat. It only had one WC in the back.

A friend was hugging her guitar in a sexual manner, then I spotted the dipping on the floor. Old Bill turned and smiled, “Don’t say a word.”

“I won’t.” I thought his pissing in the guitar was funny.

Later that night Alice picked up the guitar.

I was standing with Bill, when I heard her shriek.

“Someone pissed in my guitar.”

There was no more Joni Mitchell after that night and Alice suspected it had been me who vandalized her guitar with pee.

As bad as I was, I was never that bad.

I wish I could say the same for Old Bill.