Papewaio
06-07-2006, 03:37
Although it comes across in the style as the hatchet weilded by the woman scorned it does funnily enough reveal the ego and cunning of Crowe.
When I was Russell Crowe's stooge (http://www.smh.com.au/news/national/when-i-was-russell-crowes-stooge/2006/06/06/1149359738242.html)
There are a few choice nuggets and it is interesting how are own desires can be used against us.
I thought hard upon things over the next few days, until finally deciding that the content of Russell's music mattered little. The question was whether I could care for him enough to want what he did. And I have to admit he was taking charge of my heart - the rich boy's smile and the beggar's eyes and the volumes of man and boy in between. I found him clever and engaging, not at all the buffoon of modern legend. I was charmed for sure and, if I were a woman, I thought, I would fall for him madly. As a grown man, I felt I could trust him. Unless he was a very good actor.
...
So I wrote a story that betrayed my memory, and thus betrayed my journalism. I didn't write about the private things he'd confided in me, the anti-social habits I'd noted with interest, or those damning little utterances that clang like bells in the ears of a journalist. I didn't write about the manipulation I had seen with my own eyes, the columnists he'd done sly deals with, or the critics with whom he was warm and friendly and generous with his time, only to tell me later he thought them dull and stupid. I didn't reveal that he wished he had shoved the phone right up that concierge's kazoo.
A good piece and helps give insight into how people are manipulated within the media, politics and religion...
When I was Russell Crowe's stooge (http://www.smh.com.au/news/national/when-i-was-russell-crowes-stooge/2006/06/06/1149359738242.html)
There are a few choice nuggets and it is interesting how are own desires can be used against us.
I thought hard upon things over the next few days, until finally deciding that the content of Russell's music mattered little. The question was whether I could care for him enough to want what he did. And I have to admit he was taking charge of my heart - the rich boy's smile and the beggar's eyes and the volumes of man and boy in between. I found him clever and engaging, not at all the buffoon of modern legend. I was charmed for sure and, if I were a woman, I thought, I would fall for him madly. As a grown man, I felt I could trust him. Unless he was a very good actor.
...
So I wrote a story that betrayed my memory, and thus betrayed my journalism. I didn't write about the private things he'd confided in me, the anti-social habits I'd noted with interest, or those damning little utterances that clang like bells in the ears of a journalist. I didn't write about the manipulation I had seen with my own eyes, the columnists he'd done sly deals with, or the critics with whom he was warm and friendly and generous with his time, only to tell me later he thought them dull and stupid. I didn't reveal that he wished he had shoved the phone right up that concierge's kazoo.
A good piece and helps give insight into how people are manipulated within the media, politics and religion...