t joint

3

On October 2, 1974 T. Rex appeared at The Joint in the Woods in Parsippany, NJ in support of their new album, Zinc Alloy and the Hidden Riders of Tomorrow (subtitled A Creamed Cage in August), which had been released in the U.K. on February 1st. Their opening act was Chelsea Warehouse.

Bare Your Soul (SSC/Rosvolio Modern!AU)

((Set before Migraine))


“I’m telling you, Tybalt looked ready to slash my tires.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so pissed before.”

“Yeah, well, you did turn him in for smoking pot in the library, ‘Cutio,” Romeo pointed out from his spot on the floor.  Benvolio chuckled at them, particularly when Mercutio threw a pillow at him from the couch and hit Juliet in the face rather than her boyfriend, who was sprawled out using her stomach as a pillow. 

“I am all for enjoying a joint, don’t get me wrong…but not within the walls of our proud university!”

Livia snorted derisively, and Juliet rolled her eyes at him.  “Oh please, how many times have you lit up in the student center or one of the labs?  You just wanted to get my cousin in trouble and you know it! He almost got kicked out for that.”

“Oh please, like that would actually get one of the golden boy Capulets expelled.  It’s not like your family owns an entire science building or anything,” Romeo pointed out.

None of the Capulet women could argue, which brought a grin to Ben’s face.  The gang had taken over their apartment, almost everyone spread out in the living room studying or working on mid-term assignments.  Even Paris had joined them, helping to test Livia on her anatomy knowledge. The only one not with them was Rosaline; she was busy making more snacks in the kitchen, having already finished her exams for the week.

As if his thoughts had conjured her, the eldest Capulet returned carrying a tray of nachos and bowl of chips and dip.  She paused at the doorway, watching them bicker with a fondly exasperated grin on her face.  Before she could turn her gaze to him, Benvolio returned his focus to the project on his lap.  

“Are you guys seriously still on about Tybalt? I’m pretty sure you all have more important things to do than gloat about fanning the flames of this stupid feud.”

“Sorry, Ros, but nothing is more important than getting a leg up on the likes of a Capulet,” Mercutio teased, winking at her as her sister and cousin scoffed at him.  Ben turned his eyes back to Rosaline, and raised a brow at her when he saw that she was staring at him with pleading in her gaze.  She gestured towards the others, and he smirked.

“Okay, children, time to get back to school work,” he commanded playfully, met with a choir of “oh, come on, Ben,” and “children, really Benvolio?”  With a glare sent to each of his friends, they finally complied with muttered complaints.  When Benvolio glanced back to Rosaline with a smug grin, she rolled her eyes but nodded to him in thanks.

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“Comment s’racheter, lorsqu’on s’est jamais vendu”

Sous tes airs de gamine téméraire, t'as le coeur qui se sert.
Personne pour sécher tes larmes, pas l’genre à alarmer qui que ce soit.
S'unir pour se punir n'est pas une solution, tout au plus une dilution d'effusion enfouie.
T'es pas banale, t'es bancale, comme la cale de ton joint que t'inhales.
Qu'est-ce que tu t'sens conne, dans ces effluves d'alcool.
Partir pour mieux revenir, partage ou carnage ? 
T’es au bord du trépas, tes pas t’emmènent très bas, t’es barrée ou barricadée. 
Mutilée par ton mutisme, tu vois les autres s’en aller devant ce mur martelé de sévices, devant ce que tu appelles “moi” sans émoi. 
Le temps, il passe ou il te dépasse ?
La passion n’est pas si sombre, elle blesse un peu, comme une poétesse dans un t-shirt elesse, elle laisse un goût amer, même s’il y a la mer. 
Paris te manque, même si t’as pas ri à chaque instant, il fut un temps où des airs de parisienne te faisait sienne. 
Le monde n’est pas un endroit sûr, il est même pas droit. En droit t’excelles pas, plutôt maladroite ou dans le mal à droite sur l’échiquier politique, polis tes tics si tu veux, mais c’est écrit sur ta gueule que la nuit tu cries pour tous ceux qui courbent l’échine pour un smic.
Sur le fil du rasoir, tu sens les émotions qui défilent. ton coeur s’effrite. ton âme s’effile. tes souvenirs s’effacent. respirer t’efforce. où est donc passée ta force ? Celle aussi dure qu’une écorce, si habile qu’elle ne fait aucun tort.

Ce soir, t'es misérable, pire que détestable, au bord de l’effroyable, tu t’accables.
Le paradis t’a dit “pas un radis pour la petite fille qui passe sa vie à irradier son corps”
L'enfer t'a murmuré, d'une voix en fer, de trop en faire, sans taire le fait que tu n'es pas très terre-à-terre.
Torture, drogues dures, enflures, cocktail explosif qu’écorche à vif.
Rien n’est décisif, relis le mythe de Sisyphe, acère tes incisives, sur le qui-vive peu importe ce qu’il y a à venir et pis la vie qui t’enivre,
à nos verres vidés,
à nos joints consumés,
à nos livres dévorés, 
à nos baisers volés
à nos rires aux éclats
à nos souvenirs ici et là
à nos demains joyeux
à nos hiers sulfureux. 

Late day 5 Domestic for Sanvers Week

@queercapwriting

I hope that this isn’t too late! This piece is a little angsty, but I did end it in fluff and feelings, so I hope you guys will enjoy it!

Sanvers week day 5 Domestic

‘Maggie!? Maggie where is Kara, I can’t reach her. She won’t pick up her phone.’ Alex said alarmed as she hurried through their house to try and find her wife. She feels strange, like something isn’t right. Her joints ache more than she remembers them doing, and just walking at this quick pace takes more out of her than she expected it to.

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This may be my favorite picture of our time in Dallas the last few days. Six years ago we started presenting to parents together at the National Stuttering Annual Conferences. At the time he barely came up to my shoulder.

He has grown in so many ways beyond in height, and I am immensely proud of the young man he is. This picture struck me that we don’t have to do joint presentations about his stuttering journey any more – he’s more than ready to be on his own.