KISS THE RING ☆ Taylor Hawkins

39. Oh, Diane

November 1999

"The Foo Fighters are four again.
Chris Shiflett saved the lifeboat.
And I try to save mine by starting with this journaling bullshit, Alanis says it helps get rid of the thoughts, we'll see. Claudia shares what Alanis says, she says I should also start meditating, we'll see.

Back to talking about MUCH more serious things: Chris! The boys already knew Chris, they knew what he is capable of. Let's say that even his audition was a bit of EH, 'cause he was the only one who stood out among the countless guitarists heard in two days of recruitment.
But the main thing is: FINALLY Dave won't stress the rest of the world anymore, he'll have his much desired sound for the band: more GUITARS!
I miss them so much, it seems like yesterday they were still recording TINLTL in Virginia and they're already back on tour. So am I, but it's different. I miss the big tours we did until a few years ago, the Festivals with L7s, with Foos... although my addiction was shit, I miss those years tremendously.
I'm tired. This apparent peace annoys me, it's as if there is a bad storm on the horizon that makes fun of me, as if to say: "I'm coming, don't worry!"
I am tired. The tour is destroying me. Sometimes I miss being addicted to coke, really! At least I didn't understand shit, I didn't feel the tiredness, everything was fine!
Just writing these words I can hear Dave's words in the distance, or worse, Taylor... OR WORST Pat. Joan is the final boss, without a shadow of a doubt.

I'm an asshole.

I'm tired, maybe I shouldn't have gotten those lines last night. I probably shouldn't have called Izzy. Maybe I shouldn't have done so many things in my life.

I'm an asshole."

Diane sat on her hotel bed, putting out her Camel as soon as she closed her notebook. She now always had two with her, one for lyrics and one for journaling, hoping she didn't have to burn the second one soon. Indiana was a bore, really boring, and maybe that's what made her call Izzy, and with him, call her addiction back.

"Are you sure you're okay?
Don't make me worry."

"I'm just a little down Tay..."

"We'll see you in a few days
in New York, aren't you happy?"

"Of course I am...
There's still so much to wait..."

"Don't be so dramatic, Cherry."

The sound coming from the door interrupted her smile from thinking back to the phone call she had only a few hours earlier with the drummer. Leaving their love nest in Laguna was painful, but both tours need their presence. When Diane got out of bed, she settled the crumpled clothes on her body, heading towards the door to open it and find the guitarist in front of her with the usual cigarette between his lips, a ring on his nose and... short hair?
"What the hell happened to you?" she whispered, making room for him to accommodate inside her room. "I could ask you the same thing, but I'm not that much of an asshole." He whispered back to her, mumbling slightly because of the filter in his mouth. The redhead lowered her gaze and, shamefaced, she was about to close the door behind her. "I'm not going to give you what you asked for." Izzy announced as if he was taking a load off his heart, continuing to smoke his cigarette as he watched the singer give him an annoyed look. "What?"-"You heard me Diane, I'm clean. I wouldn't even know where to search for it, to pick it up and-..." The redhead approached him abruptly, starting to frisk him like policemen do with someone who has a suspicious attitude.

"What the fuck are you doing?" The former Guns guitarist tried to push her away, failing miserably. "Why did you come then? Why are you here?" She yelled at him, grabbing the collar of his long leather jacket. "You're crazy. After all you've been through, everything we've been through, do you want to go back to that shit?" Diane snorted in his face, pushing him away and leaning away from his body, starting to wander around the room thoughtfully. "I didn't tell you that I want to shoot heroin..." She whispered in a broken voice, at the limit of endurance, she sounded like she was about to have an unprecedented mental breakdown. "I didn't ask about heroin Izzy, I just need a line I don't-..."-"How long?" The dark-haired man crossed his arms over his chest immediately after putting out his cigarette, observing her with a look between the disappointed and pissed off. "What?" He tilted his face as he raised his eyebrows, causing her to roll her eyes and snort at his reaction. "A few days ago...not so much, really, though..." Izzy grabbed her wrist, forcing her to look at him. "Listen Diane, I'm here because I care about you, but please stop before its gonna be too late." It didn't take the redhead more than two seconds to move away from him again, clearly annoyed by all that lecture that according to her he couldn't handle.  "I should have called Dave, he would have satisfied my request for sure..." She thought aloud, leaving the guitarist with a stunned expression on his face. "Dave?"-"Not the one you think." He shook his head, placing his hands on his hips and snorting lightly, amazed at how, despite everything, she managed to act as if nothing had ever happened to her. "Who, that addict, Dave Navarro?" Diane laughed, nodding at his words before pounced on him, squeezing his collar again. "Addict? Do you even listen to yourself when you speak? Who is the lecture coming from?" Izzy answered her with a half mocking grin on his face just before lighting yet another cigarette, quietly inhaling his first puff before throwing it in the singer's face. "How about we call Taylor, mh?" She blanched, releasing her grip on him and moving away from him again. "Will he be able to please you?"-"Stop it, Jeffrey." The guitarist laughed again, continuing to smoke his cigarette while he looked around, noting how the state of her room was the same as the rooms of a few years before, noting how the addiction was peeping again: even if little, that present confusion it was a clear alarm signal in the eyes of those who knew and lived that shit. "Jeffrey...it's been a while, hasn't it?" Diane ran to the door, opening it and, silently and with downcast eyes, invited him out. "Get out." The dark-haired walked towards the door keeping his eyes down just before staring at her for a few seconds. "I love you Diane, don't try to kill yourself just because you're bored." He whispered walking out of the room, ignoring the confused look and the look of whoever had been caught red-handed of the singer.

Don't try to kill yourself just because you're bored.

"Fuck you." Diane whispered as she sat back on her bed, taking the receiver in her hands and dialing a number she hadn't dialed in a while. When the phone started ringing she wrapped her legs together, grinning broadly and shaking happily.

"Yeah?"

"Precious..."

"I can't believe it, is it THE Diane Larkin?"

"In the flesh, on the other
side of America but yes..."

"On the other side?
Then we're not that far away."

"You don't even imagine how
happy I am to hear you say that."

"I'll find you at the Foos concert?"

"I'll be able to catch y'all on the first train
after the concert in Rochester, yea, I'll be there."

Dave seems genuinely surprised to hear from her, although it hadn't been that long since the two of them had last spoken to each other, but having spent the last year almost entirely together, to Diane it seemed like an eternity. The redhead knew that not even Dave would give her what she was looking for, so she dodged the conversation regardless, also avoiding putting thoughts in his head. She learned that the guitarist was recording his first solo album in New York, and she was really happy about it, wondering if he really was as clean as the newspapers described him and as he himself admitted.

Something wasn't clear and Diane found herself at a crossroads, halfway between being happy about it, because doing so he could satisfy her requests, and sad, feeling just a fucking selfish person, guilty of not thinking about the health of one of her closest friends.

"So I'll see you tomorrow, Miss Larkin?"

"You bet, Mr. Navarro."