Earlier, Lainey posted the cover of Esquire with Brad Pitt on it and now here’s some pictures from the inside including my favorite one of him serving up some skinnier, dirtier Kid Rock in a turtleneck madness. A MESS! Since Brad Pitt likes to take pictures, photographer Max Vadukul took pictures of him taking pictures and wearing a turtleneck, because all serious photographers wear turtlenecks…. while taking pictures.
Esquire talked with Brad Pitt after St. Angie Jolie had a double mastectomy and he doesn’t really talk about that (since it was still a secret then), but he talks about how he’s so happy and so happy and so happy and so happy (translation: he was stoned the entire time).
On how he meets so many people that he can never remember faces (translation: his brain’s memory chip is usually fogged up with weed smoke): “So many people hate me because they think I’m disrespecting them. So I swear to God, I took one year where I just said, This year, I’m just going to cop to it and say to people, ‘Okay, where did we meet?’ But it just got worse. People were more offended. Every now and then, someone will give me context, and I’ll say, ‘Thank you for helping me.’ But I piss more people off. You get this thing, like, ‘You’re being egotistical. You’re being conceited.’ But it’s a mystery to me, man. I can’t grasp a face and yet I come from such a design/aesthetic point of view. I am going to get it tested.”
On how he barely has any friends and likes making things: “I have very few friends. I have a handful of close friends and I have my family and I haven’t known life to be any happier. I’m making things. I just haven’t known life to be any happier.”
On how he’s happiest when the screeches of his child army are filling his ear holes: “I always thought that if I wanted to do a family, I wanted to do it big. I wanted there to be chaos in the house… there’s constant chatter in our house, whether it’s giggling or screaming or crying or banging. I love it. I love it. I love it. I hate it when they’re gone. I hate it. Maybe it’s nice to be in a hotel room for a day – ‘Oh, nice, I can finally read a paper.’ But then, by the next day, I miss that cacophony, all that life.”
On how he decided ten years ago to put down the bong and do something: “I’d get so far and then want to do something else. I mean, I’m two credits short of graduating college. Two credits. All I had to do was write a paper. What kind of guy is that? That guy scares me – the guy who always leaves a little on his plate. For a long time I thought I did too much damage – drug damage. I was a bit of a drifter. A guy who felt he grew up in something of a vacuum and wanted to see things, wanted to be inspired. I followed that other thing. I spent years fucking off. But then I got burnt out and felt that I was wasting my opportunity. It was a conscious change. This was about a decade ago. It was an epiphany – a decision not to squander my opportunities. It was a feeling of get up. Because otherwise, what’s the point?”
Around ten years ago, Brad Pitt was doing that Troy movie, he was still married to Jennifer Aniston, he didn’t have a Maddox in his life and he was suffering while hanging his head over a bong. Brad sort of said the same thing to Parade Magazine a couple of years ago. We get it, Brad. St. Angie’s wonderland of a vagine is a bottomless pit of happiness and when he dipped in there, it was like he was skipping on sunshine while hugging a bunch of kittens. Angie’s coochie is like Ecstasy, basically. We get it!
And here’s more pictures of Brad giving me Willie Nelson meets Kid Rock meets Fabio vibes in Esquire.