Week 34: 28 August 2016
For the last few installments, I would spend most of the week knowing exactly what I was going to write about. Whether it was the election or seeing live music or selling off most of my CD collection, I knew what the focus was going to be. But today, when I finally sat down to crank this week’s entry out, I had nothing.
So, I grabbed an old journal off the stack, opened to an entry dated this week from years ago, and found a brief entry from one of the most momentous days of my life.
27 August 1999
Sitting in Universal Studios’ sushi restaurant. Just auditioned for the Foo Fighters. Soups on. Sushi round 1 is down. Now for a Rainbow & Spicy Tuna Roll combo for dessert. After this, it’s a trip to the car rental place maybe. Or should I drop off my guitars first? Everyone was very pleasant. I played O.K. I’m still a bit overwhelmed. Dave played his Explorer. More sushi. Before I forget, the hotel number for the Foo is: (310) 657–1333. I’m at a total loss for words. It was very exciting to be wanted, but I wanted it all. It’s hard to seperate the delight of being asked and the depression of not being the one. Check please.
It’s odd that the anniversary doesn’t hold the same sway it once did. I think I’ve opened up more about it in the past year than I ever have in the more-than-decade before.
I’m not going to relive it here for you again; I think I’ve documented it enough, at this point. Hell, I’ve even written about writing about it. But what’s above is a capture of the earliest thoughts I had as I knew — in my heart — they were going to pick someone else.
I still wonder what might have been, but I wouldn’t change a thing.