How Dave got his new shoes
March 18, 2004 | 12:00am
For the past two years, David Alegre, a boy of usually sunny disposition, has been raving about Jason Mraz. Ever since he heard about him from friends, he has been a solid part of Dave's life, carrying him through two relationships (one real and one that Never Happened), friends gone separate ways, and personal problems that he could not have possibly dealt with on his own. Yes, that's right, folks. Jason Mraz was the soundtrack of this boy's life for the past two years. You may call it cheesy, you may call it lame. I'm 100% certain that Dave would agree with you. He was the type that knew he was totally bitten by the bug that is starstruckdom, and that his constant rambling and plugging of his Remedy was neither unique nor something out of the ordinary. But he never denied it, or listened to it in secret. He openly and voluntarily subscribed to this hype, and he voluntarily got sucked into the fandom, because for the man that had in more than one way saved his life, this was the proper thing to do, and the very least thing he could do. Kindness begets kindness.
But indeed, as stated before, he was a huge fan, and subsequently took part in the grimiest aspects of fandom. Such was his fandom that he hopped websites, message boards, mp3 search engines, and even used CD bins in order to find anything new or generally unheard-of about him. Naturally, he was part of the Jason Mraz community, and naturally, he lurked on livejournal from friends to friends of friends to friends of friends of friends in order to broaden his own vision of his idol. His savior. His musical score.
The fact that our protagonist found great meaning in Jason Mraz's words doesn't necessarily mean that it made life any less entropy-filled than it already was. Dave underwent some really dark times in the latter part of the timeline and chronology of this story. Struck by a harsh schedule and a harsher thesis, one could say that he was down on his luck. In addition to that, his life was being increasingly laced with drama, intricacies, and falling-outs, and as a result his normally sunny disposition had been become gray and overcast. Things were going pretty badly for him-academically, socially, romantically, and even physically-and then he heard the news.
He was coming. Jason Mraz was cornmg.
He had a purpose and a direction to make good and make lemonade out of the lemons that life was throwing him: he would be rewarded. He would see his Curbside Prophet. There was No Stopping Him. His burdens seemed lighter, and some of the sunshine that had been lost for quite some time had been found again. He worked with increased fervor and zeal, knowing that despite how dark and dreary the road was ahead of him, there would definitelybe a happy ending to this.
He was able to get tickets to the two concerts that he was performing in the Philippines. And what tickets they were – front row center and midcenter, respectively. And true to Dave's obsessive-compulsive nature, he planned his Weekend of Mraz very carefully, not taking any chances. He picked out clothes for the events a week early, he borrowed three digital cameras to take pictures, and even got a new haircut on the morning of the concert!
Fast forwarding to the night of the concert, Dave found himself so much closer to the stage than he imagined. He was sitting a scant three or so feet from the microphone. He was sitting within arms reach to the man that had peppered his life with meaning. He was going to see every detail of the mouth that gave him inspiration. He was going to see the beads of sweat that was the result of making the music that saved his life from stagnancy. He was going to see his messiah up close, as a real person and not as the person he had placed so highly on a pedestal.
And then he came out.
Jason Mraz came out, exactly as Dave had hoped-wonderfully dirty and disheveled and real. His talent, however, remained unchanged. His musical bravado completely blew Dave away, such to the point that Dave had to fight back tears, only because it would serve to blur his sight. Suddenly, everything negative and dark and cloudy and gloomy in David Alegre had melted away. His world was in pastel again, and Jason Mraz was the painter.
The set had passed by so fast for Dave, which was to be expected, especially for someone who was having such a good time. Dave had totally wrapped himself up in the music, which took him higher than any drug could ever have taken him. One thing that had gotten him down during the performance, however, was the fact that Jason was throwing his guitar picks into the audience after his songs and despite his proximity to Jason, a pick was never thrown his way. But, gentle readers, this is called foreshadowing, and I'm sure you all know that this has a happy ending.
Jason had ended the set with "Sleep All Day," and the audience begged him to play some more songs, to throw some more picks, and one rabid fan even had the courage to ask for his shoes. Jason Mraz threw his remaining picks into the audience, the towel that had wiped up his sweat, and the water bottles from which he drank. However, he respectfully declined the audience's request for< more songs, and his shoes. Or so they thought.
About five minutes after he left the stage, he came back. He came back with a grin an his face, and said, "You know, I feel bad for not giving away my shoes... Who here's a size eight?" David's eyes glazed over as he realized that his feet were a size eight! Without a second thought, he took off his shoes and offered it to him. Hands were raised all around Dave, as they all also wanted the shoes of the curbside prophet.
One has to wonder what was going through Jason Mraz's mind at the time. Now, if I may interject and tell you all what this humble narrator's intuition points to, I'd like to think that Jason looked throughout the crowd and among the whole crowd, he noticed one particular face, a face that ripe with emotion, a face that seemed to stand out a little more than the others, a face that, in the blink of an eye, showed Jason just how deep this fan's admiration for him really ran. And I'd like to think that he acted on it.
Before Dave knew it, Jason Mraz had pulled him up on stage and asked him if he was in fact a size eight. Their arms mirrored each other as they propped up the shoes side by side. Success! They were the same size. Shoes were exchanged and at least one soul was bared. As Dave took Jason Mraz’s shoes into his own hands, he had to fight back emotion yet again and instead of screaming out loud and running about like a child in a toy store, he shook Jason’s hand and embraced him tightly.
Sitting down again was the hardest thing for David to do that night. But like the countless heaps of hard work he went through to enjoy this concert, it had to be done. And as soon as he did, he put on Jason Mraz;s shoes. And it was the most comfortable pair of shoes he had ever put on. Jason then asked Dave if it was a good fit, to which Dave let out a squeak, and then stammered a "y-yeah." Mraz shot him a smile, looked up, and then addressed the audience.
Jason didn’t want to disappoint the fans, however, and he gave them an encore number, which was his cover of "Rainbow Connection." He left for real after that song, which the crowd did not mind. They were happy with the evening, and they were happy knowing that they were witnesses to one of Jason’s best performances.
No one was happier than David Alegre, though. David Alegre, who never wore any other pair of shoes after getting Jason Mraz’s shoes. Some people win the lottery, and some people come out of the worst situations inexplicably smelling like roses. But to his and our current knowledge, there was only one person who ever received Jason Mraz’s shoes. And Dave realized this, and it made him very happy. It made him feel very, very special, something he had not felt in such a long time.
Everything was going to be okay for Dave. His story is far from over, but I think I shall end it telling you all that this was the start of great things for him. He couldn't see the future, but he didn't need to. He could just feel it.
But indeed, as stated before, he was a huge fan, and subsequently took part in the grimiest aspects of fandom. Such was his fandom that he hopped websites, message boards, mp3 search engines, and even used CD bins in order to find anything new or generally unheard-of about him. Naturally, he was part of the Jason Mraz community, and naturally, he lurked on livejournal from friends to friends of friends to friends of friends of friends in order to broaden his own vision of his idol. His savior. His musical score.
The fact that our protagonist found great meaning in Jason Mraz's words doesn't necessarily mean that it made life any less entropy-filled than it already was. Dave underwent some really dark times in the latter part of the timeline and chronology of this story. Struck by a harsh schedule and a harsher thesis, one could say that he was down on his luck. In addition to that, his life was being increasingly laced with drama, intricacies, and falling-outs, and as a result his normally sunny disposition had been become gray and overcast. Things were going pretty badly for him-academically, socially, romantically, and even physically-and then he heard the news.
He was coming. Jason Mraz was cornmg.
He had a purpose and a direction to make good and make lemonade out of the lemons that life was throwing him: he would be rewarded. He would see his Curbside Prophet. There was No Stopping Him. His burdens seemed lighter, and some of the sunshine that had been lost for quite some time had been found again. He worked with increased fervor and zeal, knowing that despite how dark and dreary the road was ahead of him, there would definitelybe a happy ending to this.
He was able to get tickets to the two concerts that he was performing in the Philippines. And what tickets they were – front row center and midcenter, respectively. And true to Dave's obsessive-compulsive nature, he planned his Weekend of Mraz very carefully, not taking any chances. He picked out clothes for the events a week early, he borrowed three digital cameras to take pictures, and even got a new haircut on the morning of the concert!
Fast forwarding to the night of the concert, Dave found himself so much closer to the stage than he imagined. He was sitting a scant three or so feet from the microphone. He was sitting within arms reach to the man that had peppered his life with meaning. He was going to see every detail of the mouth that gave him inspiration. He was going to see the beads of sweat that was the result of making the music that saved his life from stagnancy. He was going to see his messiah up close, as a real person and not as the person he had placed so highly on a pedestal.
And then he came out.
Jason Mraz came out, exactly as Dave had hoped-wonderfully dirty and disheveled and real. His talent, however, remained unchanged. His musical bravado completely blew Dave away, such to the point that Dave had to fight back tears, only because it would serve to blur his sight. Suddenly, everything negative and dark and cloudy and gloomy in David Alegre had melted away. His world was in pastel again, and Jason Mraz was the painter.
The set had passed by so fast for Dave, which was to be expected, especially for someone who was having such a good time. Dave had totally wrapped himself up in the music, which took him higher than any drug could ever have taken him. One thing that had gotten him down during the performance, however, was the fact that Jason was throwing his guitar picks into the audience after his songs and despite his proximity to Jason, a pick was never thrown his way. But, gentle readers, this is called foreshadowing, and I'm sure you all know that this has a happy ending.
Jason had ended the set with "Sleep All Day," and the audience begged him to play some more songs, to throw some more picks, and one rabid fan even had the courage to ask for his shoes. Jason Mraz threw his remaining picks into the audience, the towel that had wiped up his sweat, and the water bottles from which he drank. However, he respectfully declined the audience's request for< more songs, and his shoes. Or so they thought.
About five minutes after he left the stage, he came back. He came back with a grin an his face, and said, "You know, I feel bad for not giving away my shoes... Who here's a size eight?" David's eyes glazed over as he realized that his feet were a size eight! Without a second thought, he took off his shoes and offered it to him. Hands were raised all around Dave, as they all also wanted the shoes of the curbside prophet.
One has to wonder what was going through Jason Mraz's mind at the time. Now, if I may interject and tell you all what this humble narrator's intuition points to, I'd like to think that Jason looked throughout the crowd and among the whole crowd, he noticed one particular face, a face that ripe with emotion, a face that seemed to stand out a little more than the others, a face that, in the blink of an eye, showed Jason just how deep this fan's admiration for him really ran. And I'd like to think that he acted on it.
Before Dave knew it, Jason Mraz had pulled him up on stage and asked him if he was in fact a size eight. Their arms mirrored each other as they propped up the shoes side by side. Success! They were the same size. Shoes were exchanged and at least one soul was bared. As Dave took Jason Mraz’s shoes into his own hands, he had to fight back emotion yet again and instead of screaming out loud and running about like a child in a toy store, he shook Jason’s hand and embraced him tightly.
Sitting down again was the hardest thing for David to do that night. But like the countless heaps of hard work he went through to enjoy this concert, it had to be done. And as soon as he did, he put on Jason Mraz;s shoes. And it was the most comfortable pair of shoes he had ever put on. Jason then asked Dave if it was a good fit, to which Dave let out a squeak, and then stammered a "y-yeah." Mraz shot him a smile, looked up, and then addressed the audience.
Jason didn’t want to disappoint the fans, however, and he gave them an encore number, which was his cover of "Rainbow Connection." He left for real after that song, which the crowd did not mind. They were happy with the evening, and they were happy knowing that they were witnesses to one of Jason’s best performances.
No one was happier than David Alegre, though. David Alegre, who never wore any other pair of shoes after getting Jason Mraz’s shoes. Some people win the lottery, and some people come out of the worst situations inexplicably smelling like roses. But to his and our current knowledge, there was only one person who ever received Jason Mraz’s shoes. And Dave realized this, and it made him very happy. It made him feel very, very special, something he had not felt in such a long time.
Everything was going to be okay for Dave. His story is far from over, but I think I shall end it telling you all that this was the start of great things for him. He couldn't see the future, but he didn't need to. He could just feel it.
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