The Time I Met SiR
Adventures in Being Cool-Boi
One of the coolest moments I’ve had was meeting the singer, SiR. Listen:
Chris, Jessica, and I went to see SiR at Marty’s on Newport in Santa Ana. Actually, they bought tickets for me as a gift because he’s one of my favorite singers, and his vibe is unmatched (unmatched). Not only did I do my due diligence in learning the songs, but I researched interviews of this guy. In one of his, he referenced himself as a writer, not a singer, that he has hundreds of songs already written. He writes about people he loves. I had a feeling about this and brought one of my own poetry books (unpublished) with me just in case.
The show was awesome. If you know, you know.
The crowd left quickly, but I wasn’t done, though. It just seemed like something would happen. His DJ came out from the back-stage and hopped down. He looked for someone and then headed back up. This struck me as weird as I expected there to be a back hall to use for performers. Some of us had lingered around for something amazing to happen, and someone else walked away holding out a shirt. SiR had signed it, and I joined in with the guy shouting out of excitement. So, he was still here, somewhere.
He emerged from backstage. He walked up to the stage edge, looked around all cool, and hopped down into the crowd. I felt myself levitate with everyone to where he was hanging out. He took pictures with people and chatted a little. I watched some take a selfie with him, fail to thank him, check if the photo was good, and leave. Then it was my turn.
We shook hands and gave a one-arm hug. Here is the best I can remember of what happened next:
“Hey, man, I just want to say that I appreciate your use of language. It’s a real gift.” He thanked me for this. “So, poet to poet, I want to give you some of my words.”
I pulled from my back pocket and handed him my book. His head tilted back. I think it was an expression of both: “are you serious?” and “you must be serious.”
I asked if we could get a photo. Chris and Jessica were filming from a bit back but got the hint and rushed up for a snapshot. I thanked him for it.
He said, “Thank you,” raising my book and looking me in the eye, “I’m going to read this.”
We shook hands again, and I had a hand on his shoulder.
I said, “I appreciate you, brother” and walked away.
I lost my cool immediately as I left the bar. I was speedwalking in vicious circles, just yelling stuff. We were hyped about it the whole ride back. At home, I rested on the couch, and Chris was getting me all stoked that maybe one day I would be a voicemail sample in one of his songs.
This is now a life dream: to be a voicemail sample in someone’s song.
Here’s a picture of us. In his hand, you can see my thin, little book of poetry with my then-business card tucked away in there.
Life is rich.
More soon,
Trevor
