He walked over to me and told me who he was, but I had to squint and think and look away in order to buy the time to come up with a coherent word. “You used to protect me when the other guys would push me down, try and take me out,” he said. I fought to have a clear thought, but the neon was bothering my eyes, and two other cowboys were staring at me from the far end of the bar. “Do you remember me?” he asked again. I did. I remembered him from a long time ago, but I couldn’t say anything, so I took another drink and kept staring back at those boys at the bar. Finally, after I kissed the bartender woman for some reason or another, the skinny cowboy, the one with the big hat, came over to me and wanted to have some kind of a dance off. The neon was still bothering my head, and what he had just said confused me. I looked off toward the old friend that I didn’t want to remember, but he wouldn’t go away: “Hey, you remember. When we were kids…?” I could feel the metallic taste of lipstick on my mouth from the bartender. I couldn’t understand why I had kissed her, but I did, and she didn’t care. The cowboy with the big hat that had walked up to us started dancing, doing the splits or something stretchy, and I knew I’d had way too much to drink. I grabbed the old friend, the kid I didn’t want to remember, and I pulled him close, looked in his eyes, kept him there for as long as I could focus while the cowboy kept dancing and his friend watched from the other end of the bar. “What?” was all the kid could say, and I kept him there, holding him, then, suddenly, brought him closer, closer, as close to me as I could get him, and I saw the horror in his eyes as I brought him as close to me as he’d ever been to another man. “What?” he whispered. That’s when I stood up and walked over to the dancing man, and could see his friend from down the way, as if he’d been expecting it, start toward us with a gait that only meant violence. I stood before the dancing man until he lifted himself tall next to me. I tipped off his hat with my left hand and slapped his face as hard as I could with my right, then stood there waiting for the chaos to start. — (go to next post) —

joshbrolinさん(@joshbrolin)が投稿した動画 -

ジョシュ・ブローリンのインスタグラム(joshbrolin) - 6月22日 23時21分


He walked over to me and told me who he was, but I had to squint and think and look away in order to buy the time to come up with a coherent word.
“You used to protect me when the other guys would push me down, try and take me out,” he said.
I fought to have a clear thought, but the neon was bothering my eyes, and two other cowboys were staring at me from the far
end of the bar. “Do you remember me?” he asked again. I did.
I remembered him from a long time ago, but I couldn’t say anything, so I took
another drink and kept staring back at those boys at the bar.
Finally, after I kissed the bartender woman
for some reason or another, the skinny cowboy, the one with the big hat, came over to me and wanted to have some kind of a dance off. The neon was still bothering my head, and what he had just said confused me.
I looked off toward the old friend that I didn’t want to remember, but he wouldn’t go away: “Hey, you remember. When we were kids…?”
I could feel the metallic taste of lipstick on my mouth from the bartender.
I couldn’t understand why I had kissed her, but I did, and she didn’t care.
The cowboy with the big hat that had walked up to us started dancing, doing the splits or something stretchy, and I knew I’d had way too much to drink.
I grabbed the old friend, the kid I didn’t want to remember, and I pulled him close, looked in his eyes, kept him there for as long as I could focus while the cowboy kept dancing and his friend watched from the other end of the bar. “What?” was all the kid could say, and I kept him there, holding him, then, suddenly, brought him closer, closer, as close to me as I could get him, and I saw the horror in his eyes as I brought him as close to me as he’d ever been to another man. “What?” he whispered. That’s when I stood up and walked over to the dancing man, and could see his friend from down the way, as if he’d been expecting it, start toward us with a gait that only meant violence. I stood before the dancing man until he lifted himself tall next to me. I tipped off his hat with my left hand and slapped his face as hard as I could with my right, then stood there waiting for the chaos to start.
— (go to next post) —


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