They call her Miss Lucky, she was born in a hurricane
The wind blew her down a dark and magic lane
She’s a golden gypsy lighting up the way
For anyone who needs her night or day
Her thunder casts a spell in magic tones
Her lightning strikes and courses through your bones
Her power leaves you spent there where you lay
And leaves you trying to find something to say
Beautiful is all that comes to mind
The understatement that seems to me unkind
Beautiful is all that comes to mind
The words just seem to be so hard to find
Her rain comes pouring down to wash you clean
Unless you’re in the flood you can’t know what I mean
Her power leaves you spent there where you lay
And leaves you trying to find something to say
Beautiful is all that comes to mind
It’s hard to even look and not go blind
Beautiful is all that comes to mind
The words just seem to be so hard to find
Beautiful is all that comes to mind
Please help me out if you are so inclined
Beautiful is all that comes to mind
The words just seem to be so hard to find
—“Beautiful” (Thornton/Andrew)
MY MANAGER GEYER KOSINSKI CALLED ME ONE DAY SOMETIME IN the nineties and said, “I signed this young girl, she’s Jon Voight’s daughter. She’s, like, the female version of you. I desperately want you guys to work together, but I’m afraid to introduce you because I’m afraid you guys will get married.”
Angie and I got to be really good friends over the years. We were attracted to each other in the way that’s, like, oh yeah, there’s that other human being I can relate to. We became closer during Pushing Tin, and after the movie finished shooting we ended up seeing each other.
We later got married in one of those chapels in Las Vegas. I was somewhere in the South, Nashville or somewhere, recording some demos with my buddy Harvey Cook, who was a video playback guy on movies. After we finished recording, we were driving cross-country to get back to Los Angeles when Angie called me and said, “If we’re going to get married, we should probably do it right now.” And I said, “Yeah, why not?” We had been seeing each other for a while, and we had known each other since she was a kid of nineteen or twenty.
Harvey was our best man because he happened to be right there with me. At the chapel in Las Vegas, there was this woman playing the organ who turned out to be the sister of Jimmie Fadden, the drummer for the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band.
After we were married, we went back to L.A. Angie saw this house that was for sale in Beverly Hills and it had a studio. We looked at different places, but the house we bought together, the one that she wanted, was the one that had a music studio, because she knew I wanted a music studio. That’s how she thinks.
The house belonged to Slash, and I saw him at the Sunset Marquis that night and he said, “Hey, I heard you guys came and looked at my house. That’s great because I want cool people to own my house.” Slash is a great dude.
Angie and I had an amazing time together. We both did a couple of great movies while we were together; I did The Man Who Wasn’t There and Monster’s Ball, and she did Tomb Raider and Beyond Borders. We had the best time, and we had some very good people around us. We were very close. But I always thought I was sort of Quasimodo or the Phantom of the Opera, and when I was with her I think that really reached its heights. I never felt good enough for her, and when you’re reading all the nasty, negative comments that people make, it’s really hurtful and it’s hard to keep a relationship together. Those guys who spread gossip—particularly the writers—don’t know what they do to people. Everybody was raised up out of the same stardust, and it gets a little creepy when you’re made fun of. We all had that in school. Anyway, I love her dearly, and she’s one of my greatest friends no matter what they said years ago in the press. We’re great friends and always will be, but that doesn’t sell gossip magazines. Good shit doesn’t sell and scandal does, I guess.
The reason Angie and I split up was because I couldn’t take it. Angie, I felt, was definitely too good for me, and at some point, if you believe somebody’s too good for you, you’re going to mess it up. She and I both know that I messed it up, but the good thing about her is, she doesn’t judge me. Never did. I never felt like I was good enough for her, and it had nothing to do with looks. They say, “Well, she’s the most beautiful woman in the world and he’s an ugly motherfucker.” That was never a problem, because women don’t look at men the same way men look at women. Any guy could be Robert Redford if a woman thinks he’s cool enough. Women got the short end of the stick with that deal. A man could run into a woman who might be the smartest person who ever lived, funny and everything else, but if she looks like she has a foot for a face, he probably won’t go there unless he’s real drunk, it’s real late, and she’s the only one around. It’s not fair of us, but it’s just part of our shitty natures.
There weren’t any hard feelings when Angie and I split up. Believe it or not, she actually did like me, and that’s the story that I’ll tell because the rest of it is none of anybody’s business. Even now, anytime the press says anything bad about her, I get real mad. They actually have the gall to criticize her for doing what she does out in the world. They’ll say, “Oh, here she goes again, how many more kids is she going to adopt?” Well, what’s wrong with that? They’re really stretching when they say something bad about her. I guess it makes sense that some cretin is going to attack somebody who’s beautiful and smart and talented. That must be where it comes from.
I’m proud of the way she’s handled having a family. She’s great for Brad, Brad’s great for her. I’m with Connie, who I love. Angie and Brad are doing great. I support them 100 percent. I’m right where I need to be, and she’s right where she needs to be. She and I are still real close, but we keep our friendship to ourselves. It’s sacred. Angie is a little girl and a woman and a teenager and a ghost all wrapped up in one. She deserves everything. She deserves the best. If that’s not what the dirt-mongers want to hear, then fuck them. It’s the damn truth.