Dear Steve Buscemi,
I just loved you in Fargo. Do you ever get tired of hearing that? If I was in Fargo, I probably wouldn't get tired of it. I'd think to myself, why yes I WAS good in Fargo, I keep pinching myself. Actually my favorite role that you've ever played was as the drunk brother of the groom in The Wedding Singer.* You are one of the best character actors of our time, and it seems that you're completely fine with that.
You're a cool dude, Buscemi.
I like to imagine that you are the physical embodiment of this powerful bit of wisdom: Things don't always work out exactly how you plan them to, but if you just go with it, things should be pretty awesome anyway. That was the moral of Monster's University. That movie made me cry at the end because I thought of all the children it would teach valuable lessons to.
Here's the thing, Steve Buscemi. Although I haven't watched Boardwalk Empire yet, I am fairly certain you upped your acting game here. Just when I thought it was okay to accept my lot in life, you had to go and become a leading man. Great. Now, I can't accept that I'll spend the rest of my life working a nice butt groove into my bed because I recline-sit here everyday, writing articles and furniture descriptions that no one reads. I don't actually move very far from the left side of my bed during any given day. I wake up, roll over a little, create a pillow seat, roll back over, and work on my laptop until my eyeballs are marajuana red. I don't even like weed. Sometimes I go outside, or just open the blinds a little, but I usually avoid it because dammit it's bright out there. Plus I don't want the neighbors seeing me sitting in my bed all day.
Thanks to you, Steve, I now feel like I should be able to write slightly longer and better blog posts, or maybe a whole screenplay, or become an astronaut or something. This requires that I leave the house and communicate with people; I hate people. I like my dog, but sometimes she will curl up directly under my right elbow, forcing my arm into a really uncomfortable position. Sometimes she rests her head on my laptop, and I think to myself, damn dog, you're really I-want-to-eat-your-face adorable right now, but you're also really messing up my shoulder by laying here.
So, thank you Steve. Thank you for your totally sensible ambitions and acting chops that make me weep. I'm going to stop blaming my lot in life on choosing the wrong major in college, having a series of angry/intimidating female bosses, and Obama. I'm not going to blame it on my lactose intolerance either, because I can still eat yogurt and cheese, and that's all I really care about anyway.
I am going to blame it on the fact that I'm not in my mid 40s yet.
Until then, I'll do my time and work a little harder at, well gosh darnit I have no idea what the hell I am anymore. I'm going to figure it out, work it until I'm middle aged, and them BAM I'm going to reach out and touch the stars, just like my idol, Steve Buscemi.
Thank you Steve Buscemi.
Thank you,
Shay Lorseyedi
--
*No lessons thank you POP.
No comments
Post a Comment