If you dont like my fire, then don't come around
So, you've probably heard about the little problem I'm having with Vanity Fair using the picture of me in my underwear for the cover. Seems petty to me too sometimes, especially since there's really nothing I can do other than tell them how disappointed I am in them for doing it when they knew that's not what I thought the photos would be used for.
Yeah, so what, people have seen me in my underwear before and probably will again, but...Damn, you know I've tried for most of my career to not be defined by my face. I didn't get it at first, when I did Thelma and Louise, that from that moment on I'd be looked at first and foremost for my physical attributes or lack of then for any talent I might muster up. It's what happened though, so I went with it at first. But then I realized, this was not how I wanted to be seen and started taking roles that challenged me, interested me, and didn't come to me because they wanted a pretty face.
This all sounds so fucking vain, I'd probably delete it, but we all know I'm fucking horrible and should delete my whole journal, since it's been 3 damn weeks since my last post, though some people who can't count or read think it's been almost six.
So, the entry stays. Point being only that I'm trying not to make a career with my ass and so plastering a wet mostly naked picture of me with a gun on the cover and insisting it's only there because of art is fucking pissing me off. You know Myrtle and Ethel in Podooka, Indiana don't know why it's there, they just see Brad Pitt on the cover in his underwear. Most people won't care to find out why or that I tried to stop it and couldn't, they'll just see it and assume I posed for the cover.
So I still think Vanity Fair owes me at least an apology, but I'm not holding my breath.
Oh and Fuck You If you've got such a problem with me and her, clone me, or better yet comment and say it as whomever you are, rather than do this anonymous shit.
Yeah, so what, people have seen me in my underwear before and probably will again, but...Damn, you know I've tried for most of my career to not be defined by my face. I didn't get it at first, when I did Thelma and Louise, that from that moment on I'd be looked at first and foremost for my physical attributes or lack of then for any talent I might muster up. It's what happened though, so I went with it at first. But then I realized, this was not how I wanted to be seen and started taking roles that challenged me, interested me, and didn't come to me because they wanted a pretty face.
This all sounds so fucking vain, I'd probably delete it, but we all know I'm fucking horrible and should delete my whole journal, since it's been 3 damn weeks since my last post, though some people who can't count or read think it's been almost six.
So, the entry stays. Point being only that I'm trying not to make a career with my ass and so plastering a wet mostly naked picture of me with a gun on the cover and insisting it's only there because of art is fucking pissing me off. You know Myrtle and Ethel in Podooka, Indiana don't know why it's there, they just see Brad Pitt on the cover in his underwear. Most people won't care to find out why or that I tried to stop it and couldn't, they'll just see it and assume I posed for the cover.
So I still think Vanity Fair owes me at least an apology, but I'm not holding my breath.
Oh and Fuck You If you've got such a problem with me and her, clone me, or better yet comment and say it as whomever you are, rather than do this anonymous shit.
