Matthew Meyer has a broad definition of celebrity.  Adopting a Don LaFontaine move trailer voice, he says he recognizes “the guy who served the sandwich in this movie!”  It’s how he’s confident his passion is in film–and his explanation for the million celebrities that exist in his life.  He consumes it.  He devours it.

At 20, a Journalism and Cinema Studies double major and Creative Writing minor, he’s met more people than he can count and read up on enough celebrity culture to expect a certain sense of familiarity wherever he goes.  After the move from Paradise Valley, Arizona to Manhattan, the supply of recognizable faces has become unlimited.  And looking out the window of La Colombe, a farm-to-table coffee shop on the corner of West 4th Street and Lafayette, he thinks he knows some passerby.  Again.  And again.

Matthew Meyer sits in La Colombe, a farm-to-table coffee shop in NYC.

Matthew Meyer sits in La Colombe, a farm-to-table coffee shop in NYC.


Celebrity, and mortal, sightings: I have a ridiculous ability for faces.  If I meet someone once, I know them forever.  It makes for awkward social problems because if someone doesn’t automatically recognize you and you’ve met them before, you don’t want to be the one that says, “No, we’re friends! I swear to God!”  But I see people everyday, and the only way I can document it is to tweet about it.  I saw Amanda Seyfried this morning and tweeted, “Amanda Seyfried is walking like 25 dogs right now it’s too early for that.”

I also used to have a class every Wednesday at 12:30.  and out of nowhere in front of the church on 5th and I think 12th, I would see someone every Wednesday like clockwork!  I saw Lana Del Ray before she was Lana Del Ray, Mos Def, this model, and I was always late, always late.

Weighing the coastal cities: I wanted to go to film school…kinda.  I always liked movies.  I wish I could live in a movie theater.  (Like today, I wasn’t feeling that great and just wanted to sit and watch movies until I passed out.  And back home, it’s 7 dollars, and I go and go and go.)  But my final options were UCLA and NYU–Los Angeles and New York.  LA doesn’t do it for me, I guess, though it would have been nice to be close to home.  I’m so happy I came here, but it was never my heart’s desire.  There’s a million different things I want to be doing and seeing, and New York had them all.

I had an interview for an internship yesterday at PS1 MoMa.  This woman asked “what is an art exhibit that changed your life or the way you viewed the world?” but I had no idea.  There is something everyday in this city that changes the way I see things.  It still never strikes me that I live in New York.  I used to say I don’t live in Nicki Minaj’s New York.  I think it’s a succinct way to say, when I visited New York, I would always go to Times Square or above 42nd Street.

Stuck in the Woods: I went camping for the first time this summer at Sasquatch, a music festival in Washington.  We survived on bread, didn’t shower for five days, and we slept every night with damp feet.  So I left with a horrible sore/strep throat.  I remember being on the plane home with the first Starbucks I’d had in a while, encapsulated in a tube of bad smell.  I’m sure everybody hated me!

A few days after I got back to Arizona, I went to San Francisco to visit my sister.  I went camping for 3 days in Yosemite Park with my brother-in-law, and it beat Narnia.  (And that was before the fire devastated the place.  We must have been there just as it was starting.)  We thought about living naturally as a Native, where this valley would be all you’d ever know. What would make you go to the other side?

Finding independence on the Champs-Élysées: I went to Paris this summer for the Creative Writers Program at NYU.  I’m concerned I will live everyday alone, whenever I go someplace.  I know it’s dramatic and somehow never true, but I can’t help it.  I found myself recuperating from jet lag in an 8×8 room with nothing else to do, so I walked around in Paris alone for the rest of the day and thought, ‘I could live here for a month and be alone and be fine.’  But then I eventually met other people in the program, and that wasn’t the case anymore.  I rarely had any time by myself!


Written by Sabrina Treitz