joshbrolin joshbrolin

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Josh Brolin 

Finally, a campaign. You are looking at the new face of McDonald’s BIG MAC Christmas campaign! It may make you sick, but at least it’ll make you big like me. 💪
Photo by @terryrichardson Cropped by @joshbrolin #idontfeelsogood @narrativepr #lizmahoneyforever

That time I robbed that bank down in Guatemala. My partner had taken off one night, got cold feet I guess, and I needed an extra pair of hands. Enter Enrique. They call him ‘El Caballo’ because, like the horses in the Budweiser commercial, nothing can stop him when he sets his mind to it.
This photo was taken a few days after the operation. We had already divided the money, shaken hands, as I was under the impression it was a one time deal. “I’m stayin’” was all he said in his heavy accent. Then he asked if he thought we would ever be famous, and I chuckled at the thought of it. “Les tay a pichure”. “Okay”. We robbed five more banks over the next year and a half then, ironically, I heard he bought a school back in Guatemala and became an educator. How crazy is that? Professor Enrique.
He was a great partner. Loyal. Smart. I hope that school is doing well. It’s tough down there. Really tough.

There’s nothing like a badass writer with humility. ✊️
#Repost @maximillianpotter
・・・
you sit alone for a long time. a long time. the world spins and moves around you, but you? you sit and you write. moving words around. deleting. putting the words back where the were. deleting. small sentence after small sentence. seemingly doing nothing. wondering why. more often than not because some thing, some one, some cause, some feeling has come into that lump of muscle in your chest and changed you—first, from the outside in; then from the inside out. and so while it seems everyone else is out There, you are in here—inside yourself trying to write what has you feeling, trying to get out what is punching to get out and hurting to share. and you hope that it..."works"...that it has some...effect. that it shakes loose in others some feeling worth feeling.
which is why notes from readers mean the world. more than a critic’s take, notes from a reader out There matter. especially when you are in here with no choice but to try doing it again. ... fuck. and gratitude.

Dogtowned. Properly Baby Beaned. What else would I rather be doing but hanging out in colored, multi-cultural-ed Venice Beach where every endangered species roams the boardwalk like peeking into the intimacies of an African safari? What else would I want to be doing as the Hollywood foreign press chews on their wooden teeth telling the throws who is better than who while we ride our bikes past drum circles and the American Flag painted on old buildings next to Jim Morrison and Martin Luther King quotes? So, we’re staying here, baby, where the streets have all kinds of names and nicknames and Rembrandt brush strokes. We’re staying where life reminds us of humility and striving and character and hard work and integrity and fighting for our country back and the tradition of looking out for your neighbors and community and without being wrought with so much fear!!! We don’t need to check out. We got flowers in the house and we’re waving from the balcony right to the street. Baby Bean is here and it’s a whole new world. All we need.... ❤️✊️🤙

For the 50 percent who are still here. 😈

I quit: a reading.

“The Peregrine” by J.A. Baker.

@midheavendenim #Repost @kathrynbrolin SO PROUD!!!!!❤️❤️❤️❤️💪💪💪💪💪
・・・
Guyyysss Midheaven POP UP opens tomorrow 11-4pm at Malibu Lumber Yard! 3939 Cross Creek Rd. We pulled a rabbit out of our hat at the last minute and here we are along with powerhitters @bleusalt and @cynthiarowley. There will be a band, DJ’s, massages, donuts, @casamigos to sip on. It’s a whole jam. Come by, have fun, and shop for Christmas or shop online at midheavendenim.com ✨ Hootiehoo. @midheavendenim #partialproceedsgoingtovictimsofwoolseyfire #heightisastateofmind #ipromiseiwontdance #maybealittle #okayillbedancing #coolkidsduh

A still from my audition for the new Batman. Only thing to do from here on out is petition guys. Please email Warner Bros and tell them I’m your Batman. I will do it justice. I have the voice, the dark side, the dry wit, the tuck and roll, the cigar, the lip injections, the...mask, the um, the squash and acorns...the wife with the moose head (Robin)...the...you know...all the necessary Batman shit!
Anyway, this is it. Dark Night all night long! Time to get it right. Would love your feedback and support. #BROLINBATMAN #progressivebatman #genZbatman #idontneedplasticnipplesihaverrealones #allrealnocgi #meettheparents

I’d just like to thank @mensjournal for putting me on the cover AGAIN! I don’t know what to say but thank you. Our fear after The Summer of Brolin was The Fall (Autumn) of Brolin. Now, I’m back on top. Thank you to my Ohana back in Hawaii and all my braddahs whether fans or foe. #lookingmoreandmorelikemomoaeveryday #gottadosomethingatthecarwash

It’s has the mythological weight of Ireland, this ranch, the way each day comes on like a different personality, a different ghost. In it I have newborn in hand as the light begins to come on outside and a line of fog reveals itself just under the ridge line of Vietnam (what we like to call the dense hills to the south) and just above the bass laden pond accompanied by the one yellow willow tree that was planted by my ex-wife 20 years ago.
The baby is asleep, but I am not. She trusts me cradling her as she securely floats in dream and makes the sounds of a philly foal romping through what feels like a religious meadow. When she’s awake she growls like old Nick Nolte and once she drifts off she transitions to the soft equine playfulness of a suckling taunting her mother. And I watch her, for hours. I stare at all corners of her face and make note of how it’s changed since the last time yesterday I was sitting in the same chair, a slightly different light outside, staring as if she holds some answer until her mother calls from upstairs that she is awake. Day after day, no matter where I fix my gaze, I see this cherubic cube whether she’s there or not, and she’s almost always there. Day after day I watch the sun’s light bathe one side of her face as it breaks through the fog, making a slow crawl across it, then, with a start, wake her once it reaches the thin eyelids not yet matured enough to sustain the black of sleep. She’ll look at me, and I’ll look back at her. A slight squeak she’ll search through, wriggle with, while trying to concoct yet another noise, any noise, from deep in the biological lab of her larynx. I watch, and coo back imagining what it was like for me at this age, and I’m not able to get my head around the profundity of the smallness of her. I am not able to grasp this “one small step for man, and one giant leap for mankind” moment. We could be done for, but in the meantime we will float step over these white-dirt craters, and look back at the sphere swirl of ocean blue far back into the night sky, then look again forward into what might become of us, what smiles might come when.

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