I was at your concert last night. You forgot to sign my t-shirt and pull me up on stage. No biggie, I know, like I really know in my heart, we will meet at a smaller venue at some point. And honestly, I didn’t want to share you with the 25,000 other people that were there. I want to sit and have coffee. We’ll talk. I get the impression you’re a thinker and kind of witty. We’ll talk about life and what it means to be an artist. I know your soul is in your music.
Your show was amazing. I didn’t even take out my phone to tweet you because I wanted to absorb every minute of you and your music. I even forgot to take a picture of myself in the shirt I made for you. You performed your heart out. I loved watching you dance. You moved effortlessly as you sang and left every ounce of energy you had on that stage. Your yoga practice has paid off. You played new songs and reminded me of old favorites.
But I have two complaints. First of all, I’m not so into that Friday Night Whites thing you guys had going on. I prefer my Adam in jeans, Doc Martens and a t-shirt not sailor whites. Second thing, and this is kind of a biggie, you forgot to show me your soul last night. I saw your energy and charisma but I didn’t see what was in your heart. I understand, kind of. You had to change the night of the concert, you were in New York on Thursday and Toronto tonight for your movie premiere. Tomorrow, it’s Virginia Beach. You’re busy I get it. I completely understand busy. But I guess I wanted to walk away with a piece of you. See, when I go to a live show I like to learn a little something about the person that I didn’t know before. Tell me a story. Sing a cappella.
I know I am holding you to a crazy high standard. But I’m generally a person who doesn’t do rockstar crushes. Yes, I love Sting and there’s no telling what I would do if he came to the door but I’m not as obsessed with him as I am with you. I don’t follow many “stars” on Twitter. For the most part I don’t even watch TV unless it’s The Voice. In fact, I’m not sure I have had an obsessive crush on a star since my misguided love of Kirk Cameron. (Boy, he turned out to be a winner.)
So, I’m going to still crush on you. I’ll use you as a muse in my writing. I’m going to photoshop my books onto your pictures. I’m going to take every opportunity I have to go see you in concert. And I’m going to wait until we get to have our little exchange and I can see what’s really behind those eyes of yours. Until then, when you play at Virginia Beach tomorrow night give them a little bit more. Tons of my friends will be there and they’ll let me know if you did and then I’ll know you heard me…I’ll be happily hanging in the 2-3-1-1-3 until we meet. Stop by if you’d like.