An Open Letter to Leonardo DiCaprio

Dear Leonardo DiCaprio,

I haven't seen your new film "The Great Gatsby," and I still haven't watched "J. Edgar" despite it having been on my DVR for nearly a year. I was an extra in that movie and I looked at your butt for longer than I should have while filming. I regret nothing. Despite this, I can't bring myself to watch you in J. Edgar because it looks really boring. I haven't watched your last film "Django Unchained" either, but let's face it, that movie was riding primarily Quentin Tarantino's jabber mouth, forbidden no-no words, and that nice Austrian fellow that keeps winning Oscars.

What I do know is that you need help, and I should be the one to give it to you.

My girlish days were filled with many visits to movie theaters to see you on the big screen. When I saw you in Titanic for the first time, there was an audible gasp from the women in the audience. I'm surprised I could even hear anything over the estrogen pumping through my own ears. All good things must come to an end, my dear Leonardo. Like many in 1998, I suffered from a condition called "Leo Overexposure Gastritis." The mere sight of you made me want to puke.

From the late 90s to the early 2000s, your hair evolved from floppy and safely flirtatious into greased back and safely dangerous. I'm eternally grateful that you gained weight in both your body, face, and neck while simultaneously making yourself gritty, because secretly, deep down inside, I wanted to love you again as a man and not as a squishy hairless boy. I give you, or whomever made this decision for you, kudos as it has done wonders for your career.

The problem Leonardo, is that (with the exception of What's Eating Gilbert Grape) you've play the same character in every film you've ever been in. You play Leonardo DiCaprio, a charismatic leader type with an ego and edge, but not too much ego or edge. You're about as dangerous as a butter knife, Leo. You need to address this quickly because you're getting squishy again.

You need to take a big risk with your next film. I'm not saying you should play a child molester or a serial killer, but I am also saying that you should play a child molester or a serial killer. I want to see you all fucked-off, and not "Shutter Island" fucked-off. You were only playing the Leonardo DiCaprio version of fucked-off, and besides, I was too busy staring at Mark Ruffalo's adorable bottom lip.

You can also go to the other end of the spectrum and play a transexual or drag queen. I'd love to see you as a drag queen. Maybe a serial killer drag queen. Or an uneducated farmer who also runs a puppy mill. Or the meeker half of a buddy cop duo. I want you to play something that is so far out of your comfort zone that it makes your fan base question their loyalty.

That's how you keep 'em hooked Leo, you keep them on their toes.

I don't want to divulge too much in this letter, so I leave you with this: I am graciously offering you my services as a talent manager and life consultant. My rate is 20%, firm. If you don't book anything within 3 months of our signing, our contract is null and void.

Kind regards,
Shay Lorseyedi


PS: I'll be watching "Django Unchained" shortly and will be letting you know my thoughts and recommendations moving forward. I hope, for the sake of our professional relationship, that your performance is so shocking that it makes me burn my Romeo + Juliet soundtrack.

10 Things I Learned from THE CRAFT

All stills in this post © Columbia Pictures

This post has been basting in my pressure cooker for the past few months. I now see that my procrastination has been rewarded: my arch nemesis, Buzzfeed, has created a similar article. And by arch nemesis I mean "an actually successful website that I am actually not in competition with at all because no one actually reads this blog." Whatever, BUZZFEED.

Where was I. Ah, The Craft. It's a fantastic mid 90s gem that lots of angsty young lasses identify with. I identified with it when I was 13, but hadn't yet discovered angst. That would come later. But, yes The Craft is an important film in many young girls' lives. If you have a daughter, you should let them watch it. I promise* they won't turn in to a devil worshiper.

*I promise you nothing. eeeeEEEEheheheHEHEheee


Without further ado, I present to you 10 Things I Learned from The Craft:

1) I am not telekenetic.

Telekinesis, thy name is not Shay.

Gosh darn-it, I've always wished I could float stuff. I spent a good portion of my tween years staring intensely at objects. I'd try to will the remote control into my hand, or I'd burst a vessel in my eye trying to make a soda can move. Or maybe I'd just try and make people's heads explode. We all went through that phase, right?

2) What a "Glamour" Is

Throwing a Glamour [throh-ing a glam-or] verb:
An Illusion so real as to fool an onlooker, is one of the oldest forms of magic.

This information has only proven itself to be useful in one place: for two seconds while watching True Blood. I was like, HEY!! I KNOW WHAT THAT -- okay, never mind, they explained it.

3) The Difference Between a Good Witch and a Bad Witch

Good witches balance pencils and bind others from doing harm against themselves or harm against others. They are also more conventionally pretty and have not-crazy eyes. Bad witches have crazy hair and crazy witch shoes and crazy teeth, in addition to their crazy eyes.

What the hell? Where did you come from?

Oye, Lady. Fine! I get it!

4) The Difference Between a Good Wig and a Bad Wig

Upon repeat viewings over the years, I came to the decision that Ms. Tunney's hairline looked strangely Travolta-esq. I learned that Robin Tunney was actually completely bald when filming started on the Craft because she had just finished filming Empire Records.

While there have been better wigs in film, I give kudos to the hair people on The Craft, because everyone knows that the best way to make one wig look good...

is to juxtapose it with an awful one.

5) Fairuza Balk is Terrifying

While Return to Oz is still super creepy, it most definitely did NOT prepare me for the terrifying awesomeness that is Fairuza Balk in The Craft. This woman is nuts. She looks like she feasts on rats.

Click to enlarge... if you dare.

6) Skeet Ulrich is the KING of my Trailer Park

You better educate yourself, girls, cause this man was some kind of mid-90s alterna-bad-boy royalty. Aka "The Poor Man's Johnny Depp," Skeet Ulrich was like a fine, greasy wine. He peaked in 1996, only to reemerge briefly as a Greg Kinnear beater, then did a stint on the ill fated Law & Order LA. Come back, my grease king, so that I might love you again.

7) How To Goth

Well, how to goth if it's 1996 and you go to a Catholic school. Whatever. Strut, ladies.

Admittedly, I had never heard of the term "goth" before I saw this movie. I did not know that it was a way to dress or a lifestyle or a theme at nightclubs when you want to feel dark and brooding.

8) $175,000 Can Buy A Lotta Crap

Woo-hoo! A condo? A Car!? A fancy jukebox? !$@#! Liquor? Clothes that are really tight on your body!!

check, check, check, check, and check

Things really were better in '96, weren't they. Which reminds me...

9) The 90's are BACK 

because I would totally wear all this shit.

About 15 years ago, we had the 60s/70s trend, then the 80's trend a few years back. But, this, THIS is by far my favorite repurposed fashion decade. Oh the dark lipstick! The plaid! Messy Hair!

The lounging overalls!

YES. Where can I get me some lounging overalls!

10) Teenage Boys are Horny and Awful

Ew no. NO you can't, you little shit.

This is probably the most important lesson I learned from The Craft. It's best to stay far away from teenage boys because they will all try to get in your pants, then rape you. You can quote me on that, print it in a book, and recite it to your daughters. You're welcome.

-- The End --

PS: Buzzfeed, I've got my eye on you... Don't think I didn't notice your Wonder Years post. Tsk Tsk.

PPS: And you thought I didn't notice you, Miguel.

oooo! You saucy minx you!

The Pact of Originality

As someone who holds originality as one of the most important qualities in a person, I can tell you it pisses me off to no end when someone steals an idea. It's even worse when it is stolen and portrayed as original, or stolen and used for profit. I've seen it happen with art, inventions, jokes, and even something as simple an image lifted off a blog without proper attribution. When did it become okay to do this? Why do people think that they can take someone else's creation and pass it off as their own?

Are we really this ignorant and lazy?

Every so often something out there on the world wide web surfaces and that someone receives wild praise for their original idea. Every so often, that wild praise throws me into a blind rage. Case in point: Alexa Meade. I wrote a blog post about this three years ago, and her art recently popped up in my Tumblr feed. To clarify, I have nothing against Alexa Meade's art. It is interesting and engaging and obviously people are going goo-goo-gaga over it. My issue is the fact that one the major accolades she receives from critics and casual admirers is how damned original she is. How she is "reinventing" the medium. I went on a Google tirade to see if in the last three years, anyone else (besides me), has made the connection between her 4 year old idea of painting-on-people-to-make-them-look-like-paintings and The Pageant of the Master's 70 year old idea of painting-on-people-to-make-them-look-like-paintings. I really wanted to see if Meade had acknowledged the fact that her idea had been done before... 70 years before. Aside from a two commenters on blogs (who had been shamed via down-voting) and a lone blogger who trivialized the connection, I found nothing. Nada. I left my computer in a huff after typing "I hate Alexa Meade" and seeing this:

At least I know it will now show up in Google because of this blog post.

The experience got me thinking about something that has always haunted me. Is anything one hundred percent original? Including my idea that nothing is one hundred percent original? Hell, The Barenaked Ladies even wrote a song about it. And there's this fabulous lady...

I remember once talking to one of my good friends about music. She was saying that music is inherently mathematical, so eventually, mathematically speaking, we will run out of original melodies. I told her that the same was true for ideas and stories, but she disagreed with me. It's still something I think about. All. the. time. I often fear that my "idea well" will run dry some day and I will be left as a dried husk of a Shay. It's absolutely terrifying.

I don't think there is self-manifesting mind fountain, that flows freely from of each of our brains, and allows for an abundance of novel ideas. All ideas come from somewhere. Unless you are a robot, or living in a vacuum, you are constantly being influenced by your environment. All ideas are inspired, if only subconsciously, from our own life experiences, and yes, the experiences and ideas of those who have come before us. Not giving credence to this is a slap in the face of our ancestors. Yes, I actually wrote that because I actually mean it.

I also believe that our creativity and our God given individuality is what sets us apart from each other. I believe it is one of the major contributors to meaning and identity in life. We are not of a hive-mind, Borg mentality here, people. We need to continue to diversify ourselves, our way of thinking, and our ideas in order to progress as human beings. Revel in your uniqueness, otherwise, we're just a bunch of people, regurgitating the same old shit whilst rolling around in it. Gross.

Ghostbusters Baby Look Alike Alert!

That's right friends. Baby Oscar from Ghostbusters 2 has a doppleganger. Don't worry, I'm not claiming that the actual twin babies (Hank & Will Deutschendorf) that played Oscar are each other's look alike because that would be super lame. Who do you take me for?

The Ghostbuster baby look alike isn't even a baby, it's full grown man doppleganger. A manneganger.

Pete Hornberger = Baby Oscar from Ghostbusters II. Why didn't I notice this before??

If Scott Adsit (aka Pete Hornberger from 30 Rock) was 20 years younger and somehow equally and unfortunately bald, he would be Ghostbuster baby all grows up.

It would have been perfect. I would have spun an elaborate yarn about his hatred of his German ancestry and refusal to change his name to Denver like his patchouli stink father, John Denver (aka Henry John Deutschendorf). I would have championed the conspiracy theory that Pete Hornberger is actually played by twin brothers because both are so fussy and mucusy on set.

I weep for lost opportunities.

Tips for the New Actor in LA by a New Actor in LA

I originally created this post 1.5 years ago as a "cheat sheet" to the business side of acting. Some things have changed (Goodbye SAG, AFTRA, hello SAG-AFTRA!), but a lot of my advice is still applicable to the acting machine that is Hollywood. I've re-posted this (slightly edited) article for you, the new actor in LA, by me, the still new actor in LA.

Photo Source: dsearls on Flickr

A lot of the acting information I've come across is tailored to more established actors and the information is often overwhelming. What about us new guys, the ones that know nothing and need help getting started so we don't a) waste our time  b) make fools of ourselves?* If one of my acting buddies moves out here and asks me "Shay, how do I navigate this business?" how would I respond? I'd likely talk at them for an hour or, perhaps, I could just write them a cheat sheet.

(*If you're brand new, and super green when it comes to this business, I highly recommend you read my "How to Become an Actor in LA" article, then come back here one for more specific advice.)

If you're still reading this, you're either a curious information seeker, considering becoming an actor or already decided to go for it. I say to the latter group: Congratulations on taking a risk. Regardless of what happens for you, remember that who on God's green earth has achieved major success without taking risks? At the same time, you need to be realistic: you've chosen one of the hardest fields to break into. If you’re like me, it wasn’t really a choice. As cheesy as it sounds, I feel like acting found me, not the other way around. I moved to Southern California and started making a go at it about 6 months 2 years ago. I’m still green (yes still green after 2 years), but I have learned a lot about the industry since I started. I decided I’d share it with you, my 2.5 readers, in 20 easy to understand points:

The Felicity Post

Oh Felicity. Watching your show makes me want to go back to college. Then again, everything makes me want to go back to college, like my premature gray hairs, adult acne, responsibilities, living at my parent's house, and alcohol related regret.

All stills in this post © Lionsgate Home Entertainment

Titular character, Felicity, is whip smart and has a head of glorious brown curls. She loves sweaters and tank tops and Sarah McLaughlin.

But we need more of a hook here. Something CRAZY...

Let's see: "Young woman follows her high school crush across the country so she can go to college with him."

bingo bango

Nice JJ Abrams.

wait, what?

Yes. Felicity was created by JJ Abrams.

A fun factoid for you: Apparently JJ is a childhood friend of Greg Grunberg (aka Sean Blumberg). Grunberg was supposed to have a part in JJ's Star Trek, but had some kind of scheduling conflict.

Grunberg Blumberg Shlumberg

You know who was in Star Trek? Amanda Foreman (aka Meghan Rotundi).

Who somehow ends up being the most stable person on the show. love. her.

She was also in a slew of other JJ joints, including Super 8, Alias, What About Brian.

No, not that Brian.

Get outta my face, date raper.

Anyway. Felicity's New York world is bathed in earth tones, surely to compliment her autumnal hair and skin. Everyone has that kind-of laid back, east coast vibe. It's all very collegiate. She works in a trendy coffee shop and loves ART.

and backless dresses

Ooo yeah. I'm feeling bohemian. I've written a poem for you:

New wallpaper
New shoe leather
A new way home
I don't remember

Ok, sorry about that. The theme song for seasons 3 and 4 has burrowed itself in my brain like some kind of parasitic earwig. New shoe leather? What the hell does that mean. All I could think of while watching the intro was buying a pair of Frye oxfords and create a new version of me. Good job JJ. Your subliminal advertising WORKED.

I only pulled my pants on halfway to take this photo.

Okay, wait, back up. I skipped over some stuff here. Namely, the pixie cut that changed the world. of dramatic television. for young adults. on the WB.

a neeeew version of you.

I guess they had to write a contractual clause after the infamous Felicity pixie debacle stating that no WB actor could drastically change their hair style. Sadly, I found myself waiting and frothing at the mouth as her hair grew out for the next 3 seasons.

I know, my hypocrisy is revolting.

But please. Couldn't they have given her cuter in-between haircuts?

What was with the mullet?

Then there's Ben. Ben is the plot point that drives the show.

God this man is hideous.

You can always tell when Ben likes a girl cause he uses his secret weapon: Bashful Speedman Smile.

nope, not that one

THAT ONE.

Bashful Speedman Smile is a mythical creature that is notoriously hard to capture via freeze frame.

Much like the mythical Scott Speedman Rabbit Animorph.

Pretty early on, I found myself thinking Keri Russell wasn't right for Scott Speedman. Like I don't know what he'd see in her. She seems too neurotic and anal for him. He needs a surfer chick or some kind of hippy dippy. Or a harem. Or maybe a half Iranian sometimes blogger with a boy haircut and a penchant for stripes.

I'll throw my husband in for you Speedman.

Moving on! Here are more Felicity favorites for you!

ooo! Love me some Susie Q!

Fun Gay Boss. Yeah!

Black best friend!

Diversity! Hell yeah!

... actually Harold was only in Felicity for a minute in one episode. Hey Felicity, where are my Asians at? You're pre-med, right?

also, there's "Not Ben":

right. shit. NOEL. I don't know why I can't remember your name.

Jennifer Garner was on the show for a bit as Noel's ex-girlfriend.

All I can think of is the giant lipped children they would have together.

Some other plot points: date rape (see "Brian" up top), academic cheating, addiction, indecision, spying on someone who's out with someone else who isn't their significant other thus potentially making that someone a big fat ADULTERER.

Key up some kind of ridiculous piano melody for me here...

Seriously, why does everyone have to LIE to each other. About EVERYTHING. You know what's good for healthy relationships? Communication. You know what's not good for dramatic television? Healthy relationships. I remember watching All My Children with my mom as a teen, marveling at how everyone was such a mess. And Barb says to me, "(sigh) I don't know Shay. They just can't keep anyone happy for too long." And that friends, is DRAMA.

Well, the drama must be in the water at UNY, cause there is also a running theme of pregnancies or pregnancy scares that all coincide with an incident of infidelity.

babied!

babied!

psych!

But, I'm sorry. I call bullshit on this, Felicity. If conception occurs while you're legitimately being unfaithful, the human body has a way of shutting it down.

I finally made it to the 4th season of Felicity a few days ago. At this point, I've watched so many episodes in such a short period time that my space time continuum has blurred. (spoiler alert) I reach what I think is the last episode... everyone is saying goodbye to each other. Felicity and Ben reunite in Palo Alto. He follows HER to college this time and the show ends right where it started. And I'm, like, crying. What a perfect ending. Then I go back to the Netflix menu and I see their are like FIVE more episodes. What the hell Felicity. I wasted my "goodbye new television friends" tears on you. Then for the ACTUAL last episodes, you totally jump the shark. Time travel? What do you think this is JJ? Star Trek?

So pardon me while I go back in time and re-do all my past maybe mistakes, just to make sure I made the right decisions in life. Naturally, I'm starting with the college years. brb.

The Things I Learned from Improv

Stage lights 3 (Dan Brady) / CC BY 2.0

I'm writing this post on the heels of my own personal worst improv performance to date. Side note: I've performed improv on a stage a grand total of 5 times (class shows, no less), so I know I'm making a big shit out of a tiny shit, but I sure felt like shit after this last one. Suffice to say, it involved me falling into a familiar brain freeze fear hole that I promised myself I wouldn't fall into again. I'm not going to rehash why I felt I did poorly but rather what I learned from it and where I find myself now. The real purpose of this post is as a follow-up to the new actor post I (initially) wrote almost a year ago. This is not a post for actors necessarily. More of a "I'm having a reflective moment, I'm in touch with my chi and seeing the big picture" kind of deal. So here it is.

I'm a big-time rule follower. When something is thrown in my path and interrupts the rules (both self imposed and those perceived to be universal) I have a little aneurism in my brain. That new actor post, while still relevant to the biz and ways to navigate it, has a lot of rules in it. What I've learned this last year is that the rules don't really mean squat. Make your own rules! Anarchy! Suck it!

That said, I have seen some patterns that go hand in hand with success. These are my "spring resolutions" because I've apparently been asleep for the past 3 months and I missed New Years:

• luck favors the very busy, so stop wasting time
• my creations are my mind babies and I will no longer beat my own babies
• risk then commit, hard
• stop living in fear, insecurity benefits no one
• when you make a mistake, apologize if the situation warrants it, otherwise move on. excuses are for assholes.

Speaking of assholes, there are a few out here in Hollywood. And by assholes, I mean flakes and phonies. When I first moved down here, I thought the ones to avoid would be the oily douchebag variety. It turns out my sleaze meter is pretty accurate, but my fake meter is in need of some calibrating. The biggest assholes are the ones who pretend to be bigger than they are, then suck you dry.

To clarify, there is nothing wrong with paying your dues, in fact it's expected. Just make sure you have a firm grasp on reality: figure out who is deserving of your hard work, good nature, and loyalty and who is taking you for a ride. 

I don't want to be a downer because I'm not actually depressed or angry at all, really. I've been taking improv at the Upright Citizen's Brigade theatre and I've met some lovely folks and learned that improv is like some kind of drug or cult or something. I seriously love it and encourage non-actors to give it a shot because it changes the way you look at things and interact with people. It did for me at least. I suppose thats why it's so devastating for me when I feel I've done shitty improv, but in the words of Eugene Cordero (a fabulous improviser and teacher, by the way) "Who care's what people think? I'm making this stuff up!" 

On that note, I'm going to post this without rehashing it 10 times. I guess that's spring resolution number 6: Stop over-analyzing! You're gonna give yourself a stroke!