Thursday, January 28, 2016

The three times I didn't speak to Michael Cera

The first time I saw you was in front of the laundromat. It's not everyday you see an A list actor on the corner of what and what - I walked by again on my way back from the store, and I'm embarrassed to say I mentioned it on the social networking site, and everybody fanned out and got really jelly. People dig you, Man. I said you looked cool, like you kinda wanted to engage with strangers (that day, you did); God, this is embarrassing, but necessary to tell the story. Anyway - my assessment of you being *accessible* prompted one of my friends to send me the link to that piece you wrote that appeared in New York Magazine, "My Man Jeremy". I thought it was a great success - not an easy story to construct, and it conveyed such a great atmosphere of boredom, loneliness, and rejection, but maybe that's my life, lol. Anyway, I really dug it.

Cut to a couple weeks later, I'm downstairs at the grocery store and you actually inadvertently cut me off at the register. There's like no one there, so it's pretty funny. But once again, you prove yourself a kind human being and slide your half dozen eggs forward on the conveyer belt to make room for my chopped turkey meat. When I got upstairs, I thought, shit, I shoulda said something, I should have told you I loved your freakin' story. And I swore to myself, next time- next time I see Michael Cera - I'm gonna say something.

And that was today. I'm embarrassed to say, I was ordering some friend chicken wings at the Chinese restaurant and I look out towards the street and what do you know; it's that gifted author, Michael Cera, groceries in tow, I run out to say something, but he's halfway down the next block, high-taling it home.

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