Jesse Bradford on being SlingBlade

I'm not going to start answering all the great questions people have been sending in yet (or the bad ones), because I'm pretty certain we're going to be doing that in video form, but I wanted to get the ball rolling and introduce myself and whatnot:

I'm Jesse Bradford, and I'll be your Drew (the character based on Slingblade from Tucker's book) for the duration of this production.

Here's a verbatim e-mail I sent Tucker after our first meeting, and after having read "Everyone Has 'That' Friend." I tried to write it partially in Slingblade's voice, and I though some people might find it interesting:

Hey man,

It's Jesse Bradford. I'm not convinced this message will make it to you, so I'll keep it brief.

My folks have been in town, so I haven't had a ton of time for reading. But, in an effort to better understand the ever intriguing, yet mildly abhorrent Aaron character, I read your Slingblade story. I loved it, and it illuminated all kinds of other shit about him for me. By the end of the first page, I found myself having to give in to one of my own obsessive holdovers from college, and began marking up the pages where I wanted to remember things. I did so lightly, and in pencil, in case you guys don't give me the job, and I'm forced to Fed-ex the book back to you, smeared in feces. (Wouldn't want those pencil markings to suggest I actually gave a shit.)

Anyway, my Dad used to repair my WRBS Joes with plain old rubber-bands. If attached too loosely, the illusion of a sort of "drunken scoliosis" would forever mar your previously bad-ass joe. But, we were poor, and my Dad was handy, so usually it was better than having a Joe that looked like a magicians assistant. Feel free to pass this tip on to Slingblade.

Oddly, Slingblade and I have a big thing in common: major heartbreak, in high-school, at the hands of a treacherous, and black-hearted harpy. My sob story, is that she was my first love, and she hooked up with my, then, BEST FRIEND while I was half way around the globe. This double whammy fucked me up for a long time, though never to the point of shitting in a toilet tank. (If we end up working together, however, remind me to tell you a story about French "politeness," mounds of dog shit, and sweet, sweet, revenge.)

So, I think I get where he's coming from. His insecurities are easy to relate to. His willingness to sacrifice decorum and pleasantries to combat boredom is brave and hilarious. His strong stance on what is right and wrong is something I shared with him all my life. Until about two years ago when I decided that's utter BULLSHIT. And his lack of tolerance for stupid chicks is...well, admirable actually, cause I usually find myself pandering to that sort of thing, sinking to the lowest common denominator,
in the interest of ass.

Judging from the story, I get the feeling you can relate to that one...

Take care man,
JB

Original here