Mr. Pitt & His Magical Mattress
On a hot summer afternoon, the most glamorous birth father in America sits in a diner booth and tries to make sense of the world. A thunderous revving noise ruptures the quiet of the Spitfire Grill on a lazy afternoon in Santa Monica, California, accompanied by a series of subsonic reverberations that tinkle the ice cubes of my overfull water glass, breaking the surface tension, sending droplets down the side. Abruptly, all is still. The waitress resumes filling the saltshakers. Steely Dan harmonizes on the sound system overhead. The door opens, and he walks in–his helmet beneath his arm–like Achilles […]