Current mood:	relevant
Current music:	Bro So Scene - Stars and Sons

birkenstocks was "in" at the time
So I posted this really sloppy elchay entry November of last year, about my retired Nastase sneakers. But Mr. Jerome Gomez texted me yesterday he wanted to use it for a MetroHim issue. It's really sloppily written, quite long with lots of digressing and pooping around. So I edited it for about 50 minutes today to bump it up to MetroHim standards.

I don't know how much of it he's going to use, or if he's going to use it at all. But he only told me to send the damn thing already. So... Just thought I'd repost it. And enable the commenting. Because the old comment-disabled entry didn't really do Nastase full justice. I changed the photo from B&W to a colored one.

Adidas Nastase Sneakers
197? - 2006

(This is an old photo of Nastase taken a few years back, in a healthier state Mr. Quickie would approve of)

It was a day in July 2001. I was fresh out of high school. On the verge of the unfamiliar world of college. It was the perfect time for personal reinvention. As I've been wearing everyday leather shoes all my life, I instinctively headed for our dusty shoe closet and dug through with all the promise of discovering hidden treasure. What I found, I did not expect. Such a beautiful sight to behold. Sitting pretty was love at first sight.

I thought the sneakers were absolutely neat-o. The fit was exactly how I would pick a fresh pair off the rack. And everything was already feeling like freaky fate. Did they feel so good to my feet? Oh yes. These were the lightest sneakers in the world. I could sleep in them at night and jump straight into my day next morning.

I got attention for the slogan shirts I wore, but it was always Nastase who did the trick. People come up to me wanting to buy my precious pair, asking where they could get one, or stuff I couldn't give an answer to. Even though I know it's impossible, I still say, "Try looking inside your shoe cabinet."

Nastase was perfect for me, but he didn't come with no feet hazards. Nastase had onion skin soles so jagged rocks was not an option. Occasional unforeseen puddles, which Nastase was more than willing to dry up owing to the absorbent nature of its material, always gave me the dreaded wet socks. But I guess this is what people found most appealing about Nastase. Nastase was a crappy old shoe, but he was very comfortable being one. And looked quite damn good.

At one of the countless gigs I went to, we were hanging out and an old crush was there.

"I like your sneakers. They look pretty old."

A song later, I ask her:

"So what do you usually go for? Older men?"

"No, just guys with nice sneakers," (Then flashes a smile. Haha.)

I found Nastase inside a dusty shoe closet, so I guess one thing that will forever remain a mystery to me is his actual age. I used to play a lot of tennis so I know the design was named after Ilie Nastase, a popular Romanian tennis player in the 70's. So if I were to carbon-date this, Nastase was born around the mid-70's, which would make him around 25 years old the first time I met him in our shoe closet.

Nastase used to be this vibrant cool pair of grayish color. He was smug and unique. But now he's just really really dirty. His seams have exploded all over the place, and you can sneak a peek at all my toes if you prod the right places. For a while I contemplated seeking Mr. Quickie's help, but I knew it was inevitable.

The last few months were spent getting comfortable with the new but old replacement shoes. They are the same brand, has a bulkier look to it, with pentel pen doodling on the sides. The soles are about a hundred times thicker, so I don't have to worry about any hostile edges. But of course, they don't look as cool as Nastase. Because I don't think there is a pair in the world that can look as nice as that old ragged thing.

So here's to you, Mr. Nastase. For every single pavement day, from the habitual heavy feet to my zest for quest adventures in new and tedious terrain, which has obviously taken its toll on you for all those meaningful five years. Nothing else will ever come close.