To all the dads out there. There isn’t anything as good as being a parent. Nothing. There are no awards or accolades, no rewards to match, no joy or pain greater than that feeling of caring for your children, wanting the best for them that life has to offer and the hope that whatever baggage you bring to your parenting doesn’t detour the best of their natural trajectories but might help guide to move them forward through organic moments of inevitable doubt. Our children are symbolic mirrors and the betterment of who we aspire to be. Trevor, Eden & Westlyn: you are what makes a Daddy like me as glowingly proud as any parent could be. I love you equally, thoroughly, and completely. Thank you for choosing me. I am the better man for it. #fathersdayisagift 📷- @michaelmuller7
Me on the left, and you almost the same age on the right. Wow, we really are father and son! Happy Father’s Day, Pop. Thanks for setting the best example and visiting me on the set of Batman, when I wasn’t sure if I’d made the right decision. Even doing “Empire of the Sun” so young was a big question mark, but now, looking back, to work with Steven was the best education I could have gotten, so thanks for that. But most of all, I’m just grateful we look so much alike. I could’ve ended up looking like Mom’s side of the family. ❤️✊️ #waitwrongson
Walk With Us Film Premier @awalkonwater ~~~~ We’re excited to announce the completion of our first film documenting the AWOW Family experience entitled “Walk With Us”, which we will premiere at our Waves of Love fundraiser on Saturday, June 22. ~~~~ Join us for an intimate glimpse into the lives of our families and their children with unique needs. Learn firsthand what a day of AWOW Surf Therapy is like for Milo, Lexi, and Jeremiah. From the moment we wake up, until we walk off the beach, come "Walk With Us" for a day. ~~~~ http://bit.ly/WavesofLove2019tickets Vision: @ryanrbrowne ~~~~ Where: Jonathan Beach Club @jonathanclub When: Saturday, June 22nd Time: VIP 6-7pm, Main Event 7-10pm Vision: @rachaelettermedia Art: @thiago_bianchini ~~~~ Presenting Partner: John Paul Mitchell Systems @paulmitchell Production: Media Arts Lab @tbwachiatla We Are Surf Therapy
Every weekend, when you were kids, we’d crawl outta bed with a great anticipation. It didn’t matter if it was already a melting 100 degree summer day or a dog bowl freezing uneven 25, your spring chicken spark as you rolled out from under the blankets was always apparent on those days. Saturday was our Hoover’s Beef Palace day and we’d throw our boots on, our carhartts, eyes still swollen with sleep, maybe toss a Bass Pro Shop hat on, hop in the truck, and watch the ground squirrels scurry frenetically as we rolled down the driveway never sure whether the direction chosen would be their last. About halfway there we’d start salivating at the thought of Mark’s buttered up french toast next to the two fried eggs, next to the dollop of extra butter we didn’t need, next to the rye toast and well done hash browns. We’d sit at the counter while those thick-armed country women would carry 10 pound plates of Paso gold from the kitchen to the tables strewn with kids you just saw at school yesterday, grandparents who all had dirty bandaids wrapped around at least two of their calloused fingers, while we lapped up every last morsel of our order. Cowboy hats at Hoover’s were customary and worn without a thought. After breakfast we’d walk out the back door and across the dirt parking to the auction house to sit in those wood splintered fold down seats and watch two and three weight livestock be ushered in while the man at the microphone would rattle off sale words at mach speeds. One cowboy would barely raise his hand, then another would, then another until: “Sold!”. The woman next to him would write something down in her booklet and a whole new cluster of cows would emerge. We’d just sit there and watch. You’d always have a slight look of anxiety on your faces because you thought if you raised your hands, even in a thoughtless moment of scratching your nose, or maybe stretching the rest of the sleep outta your arms, we’d be driving back home with a bunch of little cows in our truck. At least that’s what you thought. And I wasn’t about to tell you any different. #templetonlife
She walks with a slow waddle, wears slightly red rimmed glasses, and her light reddish hairline is more like George Carlin’s was than Omar Sharif’s. She’s excited because they are getting her a piece of cake and an espresso with a water chaser. She’ll carry it to her seat with a small shuffling, while a young woman, maybe still in University, copious tattoos covering her baby white skin, orders pistachio ice cream for take away behind her. At her seat I can hear the tink of each bite she takes, and I imagine how it must feel in her mouth; how it might shock her taste buds, this gift to herself; And later, as she’s walking away, how she’ll wish she had bought two pieces instead of just one. But, for now, there’s still half a piece to go and she still has more money in her purse just in case. I take a photo of myself with her in the background. She looks right into the camera, then when I put it down she starts cackling. She knows what I did, or what I tried to do, and she finds my dilettante moves cute. You sometimes imagine what you would be if you were born in a different era, another country, to different parents, like a game you play with your friends or by yourself as you walk down a Hungarian Street on your day off without much to do. Today, I’m sure of it now, no matter how much I dreamt of it before, I’ll never be a spy. I can watch, but they’ll always know I’m there.
I’m only going to leave this up for 24hrs because I don’t want to exploit my kid, but Westlyn learned how to ride a bike today. We are so proud. She’s the one with the purple helmet. #❤️ #Brolinlearningcurve #redbullinthebottle #gohoney!
Happy Birthday to anyone who is having a birthday sometime this year. #gobig #fuckit #❤️💪 #mommyanddaddybefreakin @kathrynbrolin
I want everyone to be aware that all the proceeds from what I bring in from the last of the @JBKBactivewear #cableswole shirts sold and whatever they pay for me to show my face and snap my fingers or sign a few things or shake a few fans hands in gratitide for y’all caring so much about these films at Ace Comic Con Seattle on JUNE 28-30 will go to @ebmrf and @uvsc_org in honor of @trucker_boy_dukes and the recently passed warrior @tavintuff for the research and fight against cancer (with an emphasis on leukemia ) and Epidermolysis Bullosa (EB — a rare, and very painful skin disorder ). And in honor of your Mama @elijah_a b. SO PLEASE COME! You will be doing a GREAT SERVICE to those less fortunate than us but who, like those superheroes we love, fought (and fight ) with super human might. Thank you very very much. Link in Bio. #chrisevans @zoesaldana @renner4real @doncheadle @taron egerton @leeepfrog @itsmebayley @charlottewwe @liliangarcia #snapagainstcancer #snapagainsteb
My prayers and condolences to Tavin’s Mama and Papa and Ohana in general. ❤️❤️❤️🙏🙏🙏 #repost @trucker_boy_dukes ・・・ Please pray for the Davin and Tami as they go through this time😔 WE LOVE YOU TAVIN!!! It is with heavy hearts that we lost a great warrior!!! But heaven gained the strongest person I know. We lost Tavin last night around 11pm after a 2 year flight with leukemia. He fought hard for over 2 years and did it with a smile everytime. We are so proud of him and blessed that we had 10 wonderful years with him. We wish that he was still here, but we know that he's with the Lord and completely healed with no pain or cancer. We will miss him every single day. We are so proud to call him our son. We would like to thank everyone for their prayers. We felt all your prayers from all over the world. We like to thank the Dr's, nurses and staff at Kapiolani Medical Center for always taking good care of Tavin. Also Maui Memorial Medical Center for taking good care of Tavin during his short stay and also Hospice Maui for taking care of Tavin and our family during his last night. Thank you to all the family and friends who came to visit Tavin while he was in the hospital and Hospice. We love you Tavin and it's not a goodbye, but see you later! Mommy and Daddy loves you so much. #tavintuff
Is there a version of you I don’t like? We joke. We poke at each other. We remember Costa Rican dirt roads, bandanas over our mouths, lungs fighting the heavy dust, and back in the windowless house, geckos clicking while we made love in the open kitchen. We remember younger more debaucherous times when we knew we wouldn’t make it, knew we were too far along our own roads of wildness, our self-serving jungle, egos flailing, but we were in love, in lust, and we all know that never works, at least that’s what the experts say. We were in Greece, in Mexico, on FaceTime and on TV. We’ve been dark and yet fighting to see each other once more, just before sleep, because the scent of you reminded me of the south of France and the first hint of sun. We’ve been in awe and we’ve been hurt. We’ve felt alone even while we looked at each other and we‘ve also felt that nobody else in the world existed or was more beautiful than the sunrise of your face close to mine. We’ve drunkenly yelled toward the moon and soberly listened at the womb that held our child, waiting expectantly: the unveiling of a revelation, the showtime of a never grander entrance. And that laughter she imparts has never found love more exciting. You and me, Lady. I thank my luckiest star. That one that landed in me like the faint whisper of a child’s first breath. The one that someone threw at me that I never saw coming. @kathrynbrolin #jbkbstucktogether #beanintheoven 🍀Photo by @jenniferstenglein
It‘s on a wall somewhere; someone probably bought it years ago at a flea market. You took that photo of me from a car with your friend, another monsoon of a woman, then gave it to me as a gift and I let it go in a rage; I threw it in the garbage bin out back. The next day it was gone. A shaman mural. A symbol of unadulterated sensuality. What made me think of it though — back then, when we ended up in that dilapidated motel room dead in the fire of day, all turquoise green and hot headed orange, when I leaned back, naked, in that yellowed plastic bath tub against a left over razor, slid down, and it took a bacon-thick slice off my right shoulder. I didn’t feel the sting right away, but I saw in the water the swirl of a cloudy red, a blood dance. I had a horrible album of ee cummings reading “i six non-lectures” playing that kept conjuring a vision of Richard Attenborough reading to a blow up doll about animals, knowing, no matter how hard he tried, that she would never really hear him. It just sounded too formal and lonely. And you sat next to me in that tub, on the toilet, with your brow furrowed, looking down toward my feet. That was the staple look back then of an artist in the making, that era when the desert wind was a perpetual furnace that heated our over active literalness and ignorance. And as tortured as we were, later is always a sadder story. We lived, for sure, but there was no way of knowing I would outlast you. There was no way of knowing. That look you gave me from the toilet was a mourning; it was thinking you knew I would live a short life, a tragic life, when it turned out that it was you who would. We had our time though, you and me, in wayward motel rooms and on long Harley Davidson pulls melting in that age old desert heat, avoiding anxious coyotes along the road, and passing red tailed hawks on fence posts at 90 miles per hour in the sexy blur of a brushstroke.
Vienna train station. Bored. Marbles rolling everywhere. #wannatakeapicturewithme?No?Whynot?
My heart and condolences to those South Korean and Hungarian families affected by the boat disaster in Budapest, Hungary. 🙏
Home is in my imagination. But, in the interim, feet grounded and crushing smaller pebbles underneath, I choose the Central Coast for its railroad tracks and Feed and Grains. I like a steak from AJ Spurs, and forty-five white tail deer at sunset with Chris Stapleton on the radio, the sunroof open, and my wife’s sweet face taking the slight wind head on. I like hearing the frenetic yelping of coyotes at night, even with the inevitable ambush that always makes me cringe and brings up a rage. But, most of all, when I’m not riding that magic carpet of my paint swathed childish imagination I like standing on the edge of the pond, quiet, a Big 5 cheapie fishing pole in my clunky, thick hands, waiting for a nudge, that tease of a reminder that there are still alive those so many hidden gems just a reach or two away. —— Photo by @kathrynbrolin
I am the direct descendant of two who signed the Declaration of Independence: Read & Ross. There is pride in that, that connection to something new and independent. Our country that might live in humility and pride and looks out for all men, women and children. That country that takes care of each other and basks in the communal poking fun that actually bonds people, and brings them closer together with laughter. We look back and hope that we grow, that we care more deeply, that we simply...evolve. That we tell a greater truth and that we, with each lesson, cast selfishness and denial further from our habit. An America to be proud of. An America that honors each and every citizen that puts themselves in harms way so that we may thrive with everything at our disposal to do so. To give us choice to do the right thing. To do the right thing. Thank you to all veterans, and especially, today, and every day, to those who passed in service to further the freedom of choice.
I thought something happened to me along the way, but it turns out I was always like this. @valkilmerofficial @50cent #mylowrezbutcolorfullife
The air from afar reads thicker, that America, remembering spray painted symbols of anarchy in our youth by young punks, angst risen in rage, while we pierced and painted our hair, sometimes shaved our heads to match our Michelangelean faces. Our creative nectar was feeding that seed, that densely germinating pit inside us, that would come out in our music, our lyrics, or a closed fist hard in the face. We played video games, pockets bulbous with silver, bloodless hand on lever, focused on high scores while spitting expletives of remnant Big Macs on the screen. We were wild but innocent. Now, with my angel pointing up at that same childish-anarchy symbol our America has changed and is careful and scared and tiptoes while we, wife and child, walk cobblestones, the way it’s been for centuries, thinned and more naked with distance. We stroll, talk with old Hungarian women, watch men whose looks could murder smile with such warmth because you know they’ve survived. They know the real meaning of loss. America: we are victims of nothing but ourselves. We are our own ambush. This is a democracy on wheels acting out dirty vaudevillian scenarios while we whine and we whine and we whine. Come together. Sooner than later. The poem can be drained of all humanity. Nothing’s invincible.
First look of me as Gurney Halleck in “Dune”. Never worked so hard to specify a look. The sandals are a Villeneuve bleed over. #discipline #wecallthisthesweeper #bigtime Hair by @sachaquarles
There was a really inspiring quote attached to this but I can’t find it. Hold on a second.
When did George and I meet? Wow. I don’t know. It was a long time ago. I feel like we spend so much time together it’s a blur when it all actually started. Our Dad’s knew each other a bit, so it goes way back. We’ve been working a lot but recently he did come to visit me in Hungary. This is a photo Kathryn took of he and I on Andrássy Avenue. We had just gone to Big Fish restaurant and he did something funny, I don’t remember what it was, but I was trying to keep a straight face here because he’s always going at it, taking the piss, you know? Actually, I was kind of tired of it at this point, the kid was crying and it was hot and he wanted to stop by the Nespresso shop and I’m like “Why?!”, and I thought he was being funny but... “I don’t know, man, you actually want to go?!”. He’s my friend and all but the fucking coffee thing is really starting to get to me. I mean he’s fucking EVERYWHERE, you know? We’re all trying to make our mark. I get it. But give a little something for the others. I almost had a frozen dinner thing going but it didn’t go through. I think that thing would have been huge. But it’s hard to sell frozen dinners in a fucking suit. Like, maybe the meat guy’s apron but not a Dolce full blown suit, you know? Hard to look like a sex symbol in an apron. You get it. Look, I love him. He came to see me, but fuck. I don’t really want to talk about it anymore.
There’s something really romantic going on here but I just can’t nail it down.
Paul Thomas Anderson and Bigfoot. It is said that Bigfoot is a hairy, upright-walking, ape-like creature that dwells in the wildernesses of the San Fernando valley. Depictions often portray Bigfoot as a missing link between humans and human ancestors or other great apes. I disagree. Bigfoot is also said to have played a crazy hippie in a car commercial but in real life head busted unwiped hippies, taking their ‘stash’ and, eventually, after committed, wrote his grandmother a long letter addressing it to The White House even though she had been deceased for 16 years apologizing for being so aggressive and insensitive. Bigfoot is survived by Paul Thomas Anderson and his small, three legged chihuahua ‘pippy’. #inherentvice #bigfoot #pta #lsd #nba #ptsd
This (below ) is part of what I wrote for Chris’s funeral, part of what I spoke. Two years later I revisit that moment I wrote it remembering, understanding, that with time things will morph and my perception change. But it still feels like it was yesterday though. I’ve accepted it, sure, but we’re still talking, curious about the vicissitudes of this life. We were — on the phone, or eye to eye — always in awe and curious about the whys: it’s ticks and snakes, it’s color and atom bomb mercuriality. Its quiet. Its quiet. —- ::: “Everywhere I look, I think I see Chris walking toward me: tall, a long mane of lion curls, a slight smile under either a beard or a pencil thin mustache. Every time I look at my phone and it says Christopher and I think it’s all been a dream, something imagined, that you create subconsciously so that it can never be realized. Every time I think of Chris, it’s like he’s in front of me, telling me what he’s been doing: his kids, Vicky, a fair they went to, or how much fun he had when we all went karting, a song he’s mining the magic out of. This is the thing that never goes away, the impact someone has on you. It will ebb and flow with time in its intensity, but it will always be there until someone is doing it about you.” :: I miss you, buddy. I miss you deeply. ❤️❤️❤️
Jagger Jones (16 ) and my buddy, Don Prudhomme (78 ) finish the NORRA Mexican 1000 off road race. I grew up with Don (“The Snake” ) at the drag races and with Rick Mears on the Indy tracks. It’s where I spent the majority of my childhood when I wasn’t in Paso at the ranch. The sudden blast of an engine, the smell of motor oil, and the adrenaline of watching anyone go 200+mph. In my blood. And Don, who texts me videos of motorcycle trips out through the middle of the desert and pictures of his daughter Donna at the head of a drag strip, represents what living to the fullest extent on each fiber that life has to offer. He reminds me that you don’t have to make an event of everything — but that living a loud, colorful life, interiorly or exteriorly, is the only way to go. #donthesnakeprudhomme @j6gger
This is hard to watch but the character and wherewithal that comes from the tough love of communal support is the stuff I look back on with nothing but gratitude and awe. That’s what made me cry watching this video. That embarrassing, awful feeling that your less than and only with the support of your village you find that extra spark in yourself you might never have alone — that other side of a the wall that didn’t know existed. I’ve had people in my life that have done that for me and without them I might never have touched a potential laying secretly in wait. #stillonthatroad #zerbe #examplesofdiggingdowndeep #thereisbadandgoodinallofus #choice #makeadifferenceinsomeoneslife
Sometimes it just feels better to use the steps. #fuckstatusquo Photo by @kathrynbrolin
Thinking of you. Loving you. Inspired by you. Appreciating you. It’s Mother’s Day and you are the one living person I have on this planet I can proudly call Mom. I’m so glad we’ve found our niche. It means the world. And your care for Westlyn (who is such a personality now, it’s hilarious ) is palpable. We are having a ball here. Europe is just a more sensual existing. It’s a people place, not a status place. It’s been a wonderful time. Love you today and everyday. Happy Mother’s Day. Thank you for treating me like a son. xoxoxox Josh ——— #repost @barbrastreisand ・・・ Thank you for the wonderful Mother’s Day note honey. From my younger son... Josh ❤️
“Sometimes the king is a woman”. Happy Mother’s Day, my love. You know all the words but today I trip. I am in awe of you. Thank you for treating our daughter like a king, and my kids like angels. I love you. #HappyMothersDay #everydayismothersday #Reign @kathrynbrolin Street Art by @misskk_budapest
It’s that soundtrack that reminds me of my mother, I think. Those mornings I fed the horses when childhood was supposed to be piñatas and pinning the tail on the donkey, and I was, instead, stacking phone books on the bench seat of the dark green Chevy so I could see over the steering wheel then rolling wire wrapped hay bales into the seven foot bed with the tail down. There was feeding the wolves chicken necks and the bobcats horse meat that we took out from the freezer the night before. There was Bud, the ranch-hand who was coerced into the lion cage by my mother (she was always good at that ) and he was a tough guy, for real tough, and, yes, she laughed when the lion opened its mouth, as if it was a test, and slowly sunk his teeth through Bud’s jeans then into the flesh of his leg. We all froze, except my mother who continued laughing as if she was at a bar and had just heard a good shit-your-pants joke on her third or fourth drink. She loved Waylon Jennings and George Jones and as she sang along I always imagined a cow gasping for air or a drunk trying to communicate through tongue swollen thoughts. She was five foot three with the dirty halo of a mastodon. These are the balloons we never saw growing up. The faces would have scared me anyway. No, those wild animals were our play sets; the cages, our forts; and bedtime stories came from whoever was over: drink in one hand, cigarette almost to the filter in the other. #mothersday #talesoftempleton #ladyjane #missyou #rycooter #smokinginheaven
On the set of Sicario, er, wait. No, I think it was another film. #thebeginning #thecollectorandthepurpledude #offedhimtoo #beniciodeltoro #teamthanos
My wife is a designer, a creative, and a businesswoman force. She started a company on her own accord, continues to own 100% of it so the decisions she makes, the intuition she has, she can follow without virus. Then, freed, she reaches out, collaborates, humbles herself daily with the belief that everyone has nectar, everyone has a genius in their stride. The respect I have for her is on a massive scale. She’s never once asked me to promote her, never once asked me to exploit her. And if I do, I usually ask her if it’s okay. And she does it as a mother. She purées sweet potatoes and orders only the best fabrics from Italy. She drives downtown just as the sun is coming up to make sure the measurements of her garments are as she dictated. And every person I’ve met whom she works with glows at the mention of her name. To be with a woman who moves you, who you wake up with and a nervousness, a giddiness, accompanies your first sight of her — I billow, woman. I billow because it’s all in who you are that I find where smiles in me are born. @midheavendenim @kathrynbrolin
Yo, just want to shout out to #metgala2019 and my peeps who all made it happen. @narrativepr Liz Mahoney and @samanthamcmillen_stylist @kimverbeck and all my hot af really really famous people friends: @mileycyrus (keeping mine in my mouth! ) @jaredleto (you can carry my head anytime, brah ) @kendalljenner (you gotta stop widdat wild smack talk back talk hack talk sister gimme lipstick comon’ ) and @versace Thank you for giving me @chrishemsworth suit cuz we the same size and he’s busy losing weight. I got pictures for later from the inside — the things I seen. Oh, and @marvelstudios thanks for the gauntlet loan out for the night. You people have been straight up tight af. Out. Purple. 😈✊️ ・・ #bitchbestraightupwinning #infinityhoes #onehundredandfirstTIMEmag #fortheswagbag #teamthanos 💥 @bosslogic
And on Sunday I’m walking in the rain, the cold, to get breakfast for my wife. It’s raining too hard so there’s no use in pulling all of us out into it. I end up at a Hungarian joint about a mile away. It’s small and in a no-tourist ridden area. I had bought an umbrella at a pharmacy nearby and it still allows small patters to hit the front of my thin coat with a slight wind. But there’s an ambiance out here that I like so I order fast, ask how long, then walk through the labyrinth of ole Budapest, a mix of hundred year old architecture whispering a sadness from their soot covered stone and a latter almost modern seventies style that almost looks like an attempt as opposed to an era. Some of the old have chunks taken out of them, bites taken from bombs I imagine, the teeth marks of war. And I find out later that’s indeed what it was, not just my flexing romance. WW2 and The Freedom Fighters of the 1956 Hungarian Revolution. I have a small angel waiting for me a half mile away, and I billow with a new love for what I have. Can you imagine me, instead of with breakfast, running back to them with some desperate weight of fear and survival? I expand and contract on my walk back imagining the worst and realizing the best arriving to an innocent smile from tummy time the floor, and an arched cobra happy to see her Papa. My wife comes around from another room, takes the bag of omelets, in Jonas’s basketball PJ bottoms and pecks me on the lips, and with a sad whisper of her own says thank you, you. — Photo by @kathrynbrolin
With your hand resting on that fabric I felt myself melt further into our lives. Waking up lost in another city, I find again and again the railway of our nomadic wandering, our soaring gypsy clan, and you keep smiling as if you’ve been here before, maybe in coach and buggy, maybe as a royalty of homelessness. Why it is that every time I look to you do your eyes squintly smile as if you know already something we can’t teach you, something you’ll reveal later when words become you? Your eyes lock into mine, into hers, diving through the pupil and deeply into a place I’ve rarely been. You have us by the hand, tiny. We woke up this morning realizing it’s not us who has mastered anything. We looked at you and you were already there.
I was never able to post this before, for obvious reasons. But behind all the hate, all the misunderstandings, all the bruises, bumps, and ashes, there was this on my 50th birthday. So deep deep down, even from these guys and gals, everyone has a little purple love in them. #teamthanos Love my wife @kathrynbrolin @disneystudios @marvelstudios @disney @therussobrothers @robertdowneyjr #avengers 💜💜💜😈 *** Epicly filmed by @jimmy_rich