David Gordon Green (2017)
Jeff slaves away in the meat department at Costco. Amputated animal limbs are cured under his supervision. He does a passable job, and only leaves a mess every so often as he punches out. His charm fills the gaps in his work ethic, and his co-workers lift his weight out of admiration.
Fringing on the side of laziness, Jeff coasts on his ability to win his peers over. The one person immune to his sly likability is Erin. They have been on again, off again several times, and now Jeff is determined to get back on the vessel and stay for good. Erin's hesitation is echoed by her sister's face as Jeff approaches them at the pub.
Using Erin's upcoming marathon run as an in, Jeff steals her donation jar and proceeds to go on a fundraising venture throughout the bar. Embarrassed, but also significantly tickled, Erin drives away smirking when he promises to be waiting for her at the finish line. She knows all too well that he never shows up.
Patty, Jeff's mother, still makes him breakfast every morning. They are tight to one another. Too tight in Erin's eyes. He holds onto childhood traditions and expectations. Jeff has made a profession out of sliding by, and his family enables an ignorant worldview of tribalism.
Boston is a nation state. A brotherhood of macho denial. All things are taken personally, and aid is spat upon. The Bostonian tribe is one of defiance and egomania. When attacked, the community diminishes victims to numbers on a scorecard. The red pinstripes and the golden B's are larger heroes than the blue scrubs and Kevlar overalls.
Jeff becomes a symbol of this gross displacement of value, and vomits up the poison. Feeling the hopes of thousands crushes him to the bathroom tile. His attempts at standing come with the baggage of victory. He is beating the enemy by living and growing stronger news reports say, but he has lost. Terrorism won; now a city is forced to rewrite history, and breaking an 86-year drought does not come close to evening the score.
Jeff slaves away in the meat department at Costco. Amputated animal limbs are cured under his supervision. He does a passable job, and only leaves a mess every so often as he punches out. His charm fills the gaps in his work ethic, and his co-workers lift his weight out of admiration.
Fringing on the side of laziness, Jeff coasts on his ability to win his peers over. The one person immune to his sly likability is Erin. They have been on again, off again several times, and now Jeff is determined to get back on the vessel and stay for good. Erin's hesitation is echoed by her sister's face as Jeff approaches them at the pub.
Using Erin's upcoming marathon run as an in, Jeff steals her donation jar and proceeds to go on a fundraising venture throughout the bar. Embarrassed, but also significantly tickled, Erin drives away smirking when he promises to be waiting for her at the finish line. She knows all too well that he never shows up.
Patty, Jeff's mother, still makes him breakfast every morning. They are tight to one another. Too tight in Erin's eyes. He holds onto childhood traditions and expectations. Jeff has made a profession out of sliding by, and his family enables an ignorant worldview of tribalism.
Boston is a nation state. A brotherhood of macho denial. All things are taken personally, and aid is spat upon. The Bostonian tribe is one of defiance and egomania. When attacked, the community diminishes victims to numbers on a scorecard. The red pinstripes and the golden B's are larger heroes than the blue scrubs and Kevlar overalls.
Jeff becomes a symbol of this gross displacement of value, and vomits up the poison. Feeling the hopes of thousands crushes him to the bathroom tile. His attempts at standing come with the baggage of victory. He is beating the enemy by living and growing stronger news reports say, but he has lost. Terrorism won; now a city is forced to rewrite history, and breaking an 86-year drought does not come close to evening the score.
final words:
EXTERIOR STRENGTH FAILS