But Enough About Me Read Online Free PDF

participate and turn the question on a member of her glam squad (“I don’t know. Chrissie, did I ever want to quit the business?”) so that the answer is unusable.
    Thus, it is always a good idea during the negotiations process to fish around and see if your subject is going to leave town for any reason. If he or she is a musician and they are on tour, pick a place like Kansas City for your interview. If he or she is a movie star and on location in a nonglamorous spot, try to wrangle your way in. Why? Because the star might actually be glad to see you. You will be a fresh new face, and if they are neurotic about being away from the public eye in a remote outpost, you will bolster their ego by conveying that the world still cares about what they are doing. Yes, a gang of screaming fans gathered by their hotel entrance can buoy them up, but a journalist who dramatically flies into a distant location is just that little bit more legitimate. The welcome will be warmer, the focus sharper, and if your celebrity is bored by seeing the same faces on tour or on set, you may get some extra time, rather than just the promised hour and a half.
    The only roadblock becomes actually getting to the location. With Brad Pitt, in the Rockies for his mountain-climbing movie Seven Years in Tibet, I flew from New York to Vancouver, then on to the mountains in a twelve-seat Beechcraft terrifyingly named Wilderness Air, whose pilot spent the entire shaky barf bag of a flight with her head swiveled around, chatting animatedly with the passenger behind her. Her copilot, meanwhile, had his head buried in a book. So who, exactly, was flying the plane? The Lord? A computer? I knew that DC-10s had them, but Wilderness Air? I looked around for dibs on the meatiest-looking passenger to eat if the plane crashed.
    Against the odds, we landed in a remote field and I wandered over to a diner, awaiting a van that was to pick me up for a three-hour journey up the muddy mountains. I supposed I should eat. I was constantly afraid of long stretches without food. As the waitress slapped a burger on my table, she gave me a hard look and said, “Been a lot of moose attacks around here lately. Mothers protecting their babies. They just come barreling out of the woods at ya.” Then she shuffled away. Moose attacks? The only wildlife I had to worry about in my neck of the woods were squirrels, and rats. Which I hated. Yet I missed them.
    After a long, vertiginous van ride with one stop to let a herd of caribou cross, I arrived at the far-flung mountain camp, one of the few places on earth where Brad Pitt could walk around unmolested. He was dressed for the six inches of mud that surrounded the camp, in boots, sweatpants, and a black suede coat. He was so friendly and positive, so free of attitude, that my palms were barely moist when I shook his hand. I was relieved that I didn’t have a crush on him; this would make the proceedings go a little more smoothly. I was drawn to scrawny, tubercular indoorsmen, while Pitt was more of a hot ski instructor/beach bum type. His favorite expressions were “Yeah, right?” when he agreed with you on something, followed by “Yeah, man” (when he agreed with you on something but perhaps less stridently), followed by “Excellent.” He referred to his costar, the British actor David Thewliss, as Thew-lie.
    After I gamely followed him on a long hike, he invited me into his trailer. Yes! I quickly looked around, scribbling everything down on my pad: Scientific American magazine, a black Prada tote, a carton of Camels, a book on Frank Lloyd Wright, and a huge box of strawberry Twizzlers. Aha, a CD collection. The Dave Matthews Band, Shawn Colvin, and Soundgarden. As I got situated, Pitt decided to blast a few tunes from the Soundgarden album, and that is when it started to rain. In my palms. For as “Burden in My Hand” cranked up, Pitt began to rock out.
    Chris Cornell’s voice