Part 1: I'm driving in a car with Mike Watt to a Minutemen reunion show. Mike Watt is congratulating me on becoming D. Boon's replacement. I admit to him that I'm nowhere near the guitar player D. Boon was. "I'm sort of a hack," I admit. Mike Watt is stoked and will have none of it. "Dude, don't worry about it," he promises, "everything'll be fine." I try to tell him I don't even know how to play any Minutemen songs, and he assures me that I'll be able to pick it up as I go along.
Part 2: I'm getting my (tiny) apartment ready for a show. Apparently I have managed to book The Smiths, and am completely dumbfounded that tens of thousands of people want to come to the show. "What the hell," I think, "since when did so many people like The Smiths?" Then I remember that many, many people do, and very ardently so, and I feel like a rube for not having planned anything in advance. Then I get a phone call from Mike Watt, reminding me that The Minutemen are opening, and I think, "Well, fuck. I'm going to have to buy some more chips."