ANNIE PROULX TAJEMNICA BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN PDF

Tore me to pieces. Saw it once and never again. Jul 21, PM Shelves: you-ll-need-a-cigarette I rarely go to the movies. Truly, the last movie I saw in a theater was Lincoln, in Brokeback Mountain? Never heard of it.

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Save Story Save this story for later. They were raised on small, poor ranches in opposite corners of the state, Jack Twist in Lightning Flat, up on the Montana border, Ennis del Mar from around Sage, near the Utah line, both high-school drop-out country boys with no prospects, brought up to hard work and privation, both rough-mannered, rough-spoken, inured to the stoic life.

Ennis, reared by his older brother and sister after their parents drove off the only curve on Dead Horse Road, leaving them twenty-four dollars in cash and a two-mortgage ranch, applied at age fourteen for a hardship license that let him make the hour-long trip from the ranch to the high school.

The pickup was old, no heater, one windshield wiper, and bad tires; when the transmission went, there was no money to fix it. He had wanted to be a sophomore, felt the word carried a kind of distinction, but the truck broke down short of it, pitching him directly into ranch work. That spring, hungry for any job, each had signed up with Farm and Ranch Employment—they came together on paper as herder and camp tender for the same sheep operation north of Signal.

The summer range lay above the tree line on Forest Service land on Brokeback Mountain. Neither of them was twenty. They shook hands in the choky little trailer office in front of a table littered with scribbled papers, a Bakelite ashtray brimming with stubs. Joe Aguirre, wavy hair the color of cigarette ash and parted down the middle, gave them his point of view.

Them camps can be a couple a miles from where we pasture the sheep. Bad predator loss, nobody near lookin after em at night. Roll up that tent every mornin case Forest Service snoops around. Got the dogs, your. Last summer had goddam near twenty-five-percent loss. They found a bar and drank beer through the afternoon, Jack telling Ennis about a lightning storm on the mountain the year before that killed forty-two sheep, the peculiar stink of them and the way they bloated, the need for plenty of whiskey up there.

At first glance Jack seemed fair enough, with his curly hair and quick laugh, but for a small man he carried some weight in the haunch and his smile disclosed buckteeth, not pronounced enough to let him eat popcorn out of the neck of a jug, but noticeable. He was infatuated with the rodeo life and fastened his belt with a minor bull-riding buckle, but his boots were worn to the quick, holed beyond repair, and he was crazy to be somewhere, anywhere, else than Lightning Flat.

Ennis, high-arched nose and narrow face, was scruffy and a little cave-chested, balanced a small torso on long, caliper legs, and possessed a muscular and supple body made for the horse and for fighting. Them boxes a soup are real bad to pack.

Ennis picked out a big chestnut called Cigar Butt to ride, Jack a bay mare that turned out to have a low startle point.

The string of spare horses included a mouse-colored grullo whose looks Ennis liked. Ennis and Jack, the dogs, the horses and mules, a thousand ewes and their lambs flowed up the trail like dirty water through the timber and out above the tree line into the great flowery meadows and the coursing, endless wind.

Dawn came glassy-orange, stained from below by a gelatinous band of pale green. The cold air sweetened, banded pebbles and crumbs of soil cast sudden pencil-long shadows, and the rearing lodgepole pines below them massed in slabs of somber malachite.

During the day Ennis looked across a great gulf and sometimes saw Jack, a small dot moving across a high meadow, as an insect moves across a tablecloth; Jack, in his dark camp, saw Ennis as night fire, a red spark on the huge black mass of mountain. By rights I should be spendin the night here.

Aguirre got no right a make me do this. Point is, we both should be in this camp. And that goddam pup tent smells like cat piss or worse. Pretty good with a can opener. Balls on him size a apples.

Looked like he could a eat a camel. You want some a this hot water? Jack said his father had been a pretty well-known bull rider years back but kept his secrets to himself, never gave Jack a word of advice, never came once to see Jack ride, though he had put him on the woollies when he was a little kid.

Ennis said the kind of riding that interested him lasted longer than eight seconds and had some point to it. The summer went on and they moved the herd to new pasture, shifted the camp; the distance between the sheep and the new camp was greater and the night ride longer. Ennis rode easy, sleeping with his eyes open, but the hours he was away from the sheep stretched out and out.

Jack pulled a squalling burr out of the harmonica, flattened a little from a fall off the skittish bay mare, and Ennis had a good raspy voice; a few nights they mangled their way through some songs.

The meadow stones glowed white-green and a flinty wind worked over the meadow, scraped the fire low, then ruffled it into yellow silk sashes. Better off sleepin in the tent. It was big enough, warm enough, and in a little while they deepened their intimacy considerably.

Ennis ran full throttle on all roads whether fence mending or money spending, and he wanted none of it when Jack seized his left hand and brought it to his erect cock.

Ennis woke in red dawn with his pants around his knees, a top-grade headache, and Jack butted against him; without saying anything about it, both knew how it would go for the rest of the summer, sheep be damned.

As it did go. A one-shot thing. Though he did, and Aguirre came up again to say so, fixing Jack with his bold stare, not bothering to dismount. In August Ennis spent the whole night with Jack in the main camp, and in a blowy hailstorm the sheep took off west and got among a herd in another allotment.

There was a damn miserable time for five days, Ennis and a Chilean herder with no English trying to sort them out, the task almost impossible as the paint brands were worn and faint at this late season. Even when the numbers were right Ennis knew the sheep were mixed.

In a disquieting way everything seemed mixed. Advertisement The first snow came early, on August 13th, piling up a foot, but was followed by a quick melt. The next week Joe Aguirre sent word to bring them down, another, bigger storm was moving in from the Pacific, and they packed in the game and moved off the mountain with the sheep, stones rolling at their heels, purple cloud crowding in from the west and the metal smell of coming snow pressing them on.

The mountain boiled with demonic energy, glazed with flickering broken-cloud light; the wind combed the grass and drew from the damaged krummholz and slit rock a bestial drone. As they descended the slope Ennis felt he was in a slow-motion, but headlong, irreversible fall. Joe Aguirre paid them, said little. Ranch stiffs never did much of a job. The wind was gusting hard and cold.

Try to get somethin on a ranch. Within a mile Ennis felt like someone was pulling his guts out hand over hand a yard at a time. He stopped at the side of the road and, in the whirling new snow, tried to puke but nothing came up. He felt about as bad as he ever had and it took a long time for the feeling to wear off. He picked up a few short-lived ranch jobs, then settled in as a wrangler on the old Elwood Hi-Top place, north of Lost Cabin, in Washakie County.

He was still working there in September when Alma, Jr. When the Hi-Top folded they moved to a small apartment in Riverton, up over a laundry. Ennis got on the highway crew, tolerating it but working weekends at the Rafter B in exchange for keeping his horses out there. A second girl was born and Alma wanted to stay in town near the clinic because the child had an asthmatic wheeze. They stayed in the little apartment, which he favored because it could be left at any time.

The fourth summer since Brokeback Mountain came on and in June Ennis had a general-delivery letter from Jack Twist, the first sign of life in all that time.

Friend this letter is a long time over due. Hope you get it. Heard you was in Riverton. Drop me a line if you can, say if your there. The return address was Childress, Texas. The day was hot and clear in the morning, but by noon the clouds had pushed up out of the west rolling a little sultry air before them.

Jack was not a restaurant type, he said, thinking of the dirty spoons sticking out of the cans of cold beans balanced on the log. Late in the afternoon, thunder growling, that same old green pickup rolled in and he saw Jack get out of the truck, beat-up Resistol tilted back.

A hot jolt scalded Ennis and he was out on the landing pulling the door closed behind him. Jack took the stairs two and two.

What could he say? Jack, my wife, Alma. He could smell Jack—the intensely familiar odor of cigarettes, musky sweat, and a faint sweetness like grass, and with it the rushing cold of the mountain. He was glad the light was dim on the landing but did not turn away from her. She had seen what she had seen. Behind her in the room, lightning lit the window like a white sheet waving and the baby cried. Love them to pieces. Tell you what, I married a cute little old Texas girl down in Childress—Lureen.

Might not get back tonight, we get drinkin and talkin. Ennis guessed she was going to ask him to get her a pack of cigarettes, bring him back sooner. A few handfuls of hail rattled against the window, followed by rain and a slippery wind banging the unsecured door of the next room then and through the night.

The room stank of semen and smoke and sweat and whiskey, of old carpet and sour hay, saddle leather, shit and cheap soap. We got to talk about this. I fuckin knew it. I about give up on you. I figured you was sore about that punch. How I met Lureen. Look over on that chair. I made three fuckin thousand dollars that year. Fuckin starved.

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E. Annie Proulx

Mesida So Jack wanted Ennis to come help on the ranch and he told his Dad he was leaving his wife. Dec 15, Zaara rated it really liked it. They are at first strangers, then annnie become friends. Brokeback Mountain by Annie Proulx They would still have felt that indescribable connection and denied their attraction to one another.

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ANNIE PROULX TAJEMNICA BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN PDF

Save Story Save this story for later. They were raised on small, poor ranches in opposite corners of the state, Jack Twist in Lightning Flat, up on the Montana border, Ennis del Mar from around Sage, near the Utah line, both high-school drop-out country boys with no prospects, brought up to hard work and privation, both rough-mannered, rough-spoken, inured to the stoic life. Ennis, reared by his older brother and sister after their parents drove off the only curve on Dead Horse Road, leaving them twenty-four dollars in cash and a two-mortgage ranch, applied at age fourteen for a hardship license that let him make the hour-long trip from the ranch to the high school. The pickup was old, no heater, one windshield wiper, and bad tires; when the transmission went, there was no money to fix it. He had wanted to be a sophomore, felt the word carried a kind of distinction, but the truck broke down short of it, pitching him directly into ranch work. That spring, hungry for any job, each had signed up with Farm and Ranch Employment—they came together on paper as herder and camp tender for the same sheep operation north of Signal. The summer range lay above the tree line on Forest Service land on Brokeback Mountain.

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Tajemnica Brokeback Mountain

The film was frequently referred to in the media as the "gay cowboy movie", but a number of reviewers noted that both Jack and Ennis were bisexual. I think the whole point was that it was two souls that fell in love with each other. Roger Ebert concluded that both characters were gay, but doubted it themselves: "Jack is able to accept a little more willingly that he is inescapably gay. Gyllenhaal has stated that he is extremely proud of the film and his role, regardless of what the reactions would be. Lee found the first scene difficult to film and has stated he has great respect for the two main actors for their "courage". American cowboys—of all people—have no business falling in love with each other.

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