February 5th, 2004


Alias Smith, Me & Mrs Jones

After a short glut of Japan reflections, things sure do need to develop in some way or another here. Well, commenting on film isn't exactly anything new, but in place of any other creative plans for the time being, I'd like to bring the journal back into sharper focus by reintroducing a pret-a-porter subject, my old friend Angelina Jolie.

I thought I'd give her a chance. She's been calling four or five times a week recently. I don't know. We talk for a half-an-hour or so. I've been trying to persuade her to give up the business, or at least take some greater professional risks in her script choices. I'm honestly sympathetic about the difficulties she's been having with her adoptive child Maddox and I have no doubt about the love she feels for him, but recent press suggests the agency involved in the adoption process are a little more than murky in their actions. He might actually have living parents. If she was a little less high profile, then it might be easier for her. It's difficult having to live out all these things in public. One more reason to give up the business Anj, I say. Come on, you must have a fair amount saved up by now. The worst comes to the worst, you could move out to Cambodia just to be close to him. Property is fairly cheap out there and the people are real people. You could live a real life with them with real challenges.

"Would you come out there with me?" She said.

I was a little stunned. I'm not sure that would work out. I was also blushing, despite my best intentions. "I'm not sure what I'd do out there."

"Well, what the fuck do you actually do at the moment?"

"Fair enough. I suppose I could. I'm not one much for the limelight though. I saw that Matt Dillon pic recently, City of Something, Cambodia looked very picturesque. I could probably do the Gerard Depardieu character, you know, running a crumbly ex-pat sort of bar, pet monkey, get kind of fat, play Jacques Dutronc records..."

"I do like it when you talk French".

"Stop taking the piss. Actually, your English one isn't bad either". Dear God, are we actually flirting? What is happening in the world?

"Listen, I've got my agent on the other line, but I am going to get back to you on this. You're not getting out of it that easily. And anyway, what are you wearing?" She ends, putting the phone down with a throaty cackle. She's a bit intense at times, but there's a winning sort of way to her. She doesn't even care what I may have written about her before. We had a long talk about the Chechen issue. We're both pro-Chechen in our sympathies, just as we abhor the theft of the issue by reactionary terrorist organisations and the Putin administration. Pretty much the same thing, she said. Astute too, I found myself thinking. As long as I don't start finding her cute. There's the rub. She gave me a recipe for zhizhig galnash even. Is she trying to soften me up? I don't know, it's all a bit too convincing. Maybe.
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