#roadmusic

[jonitadavisposts]

My latest from @detour_xp, this one found in @miamiherald. I came up with 5 movies that have lessons for your next road trip. https://www.mcclatchy-partners.com/detour/all-markets/article268081532.html What other movies would you add to this list? #roadmusic #roadtrip #movies #filmcommunity https://www.instagram.com/p/CkhemrKu3G1/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[christoph-wagner]

Jazzdination x Roadmusic at @impulstanz_festival in Vienna. DJs: @djchesterrush @chr_wag @roadmusic_records #impulstanz #impulstanzfestival #impulstanzfestivalwien #jazzdination #roadmusic #djset #vienna #clubscene #dance #housemusic #hihop #afrobeats #brazil #bass #jazz (hier: Vestibül Burgtheater) https://www.instagram.com/p/CgPHZKNMvhG/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[crossedroad]

@roadmusic​  — henry slaughter.

‘ you were the last good thing about this part of town. ’

[crossedroad]

@roadmusic​ : ‘ where were you tonight? ’

𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐍.   the owner’s work belongs exclusively to the owner, and we are not to ask. had anyone other than henry slaughter asked him this question, and had they been anywhere other than the heartbeat of dallas’ apartment just above red’s, he would have thrown them out the window and watched their body crumple on the ground below, a broken mosaic of anyone who’s ever crossed him. henry is immune to these rules, though : he gets to pick and choose which ones he follows. dallas knows this is not out of respect for the man’s reputation, but instead out of love. they were boys, once, and though any self-respecting psychiatrist would question dallas whitlock’s ability to experience love, he knows two things.

the first is that the cut stings as he’s washing the blood off of his hands in his apartment bathroom. the second is that he loves henry slaughter. 

‘ getting my money back. ’  he answers earnestly, scrubbing at his hands with a red washrag until his hands are clean and the fabric is a deeper scarlet than it was when he did the laundry last week. he doesn’t tell henry how he did it, how he put a man four inches deep into a cold texas ravine, let him scratch at his own wrists until he handed over the money in his wallet and the money owed for the tabs they rung up at red’s.  (  really, he wouldn’t have given a shit if they weren’t hootin’ and hollerin’ at his waitresses all night.  aint they ever heard of the third commandment?  )

he looks up at henry in the mirror, leaning in the doorway like a worried housewife, and dallas snorts, wrapping his hand up in white gauze. they meet each other halfway, dallas giving up his hand and henry taking the bandage.  ‘ worried about me, cher? ’   he laughs, bumping noses with the other. ‘ you don’t have to. m’alright. ’ 

what were you doing, dallas?  calls his voice, though they’re whispering, dancing slowly in the threshold. this ephemeral place. this crossroad.  don’t worry about it, scowls the devil on his shoulder, and dallas takes henry’s face with his free hand, bringing their lips to meet properly. a good morning kiss. hello, their lips say to each other. i’m home, and that’s what matters.

he’ll dig the ditch in the morning.

[crossedroad]

@roadmusic​ : “you look tired.”

𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒.   they sit there in their little train boxcar, and dallas doesn’t have it in him to take care of the suit he’s wearing. instead, he brings his knees to his chest, his dress shoes removed, and he hides in the mound of blankets they’ve borrowed from walmarts and goodwills and dollar generals and anywhere they can find. henry’s body is pressed against his own, holding him like they’re a well-kept secret. the bruise on his cheek has disappeared alongside the memory of his father, and he cannot bring his lips to curl up like they used to when henry would hold him like this.  because i am, he wants to say, because convincing twelve strangers that beating an autistic kid with a belt after ten years of laying into your older son is grounds for murder is exhausting.

their legs interlock under the blankets, and henry seems to get the idea: they wrap up like this, tipsy on smirnoff ice and menthol cigarettes, hands bunched in a suit that the lady from child protective services gave him. they’re going to try you as an adult, dallas, his lawyer had said, especially since you’re eighteen. but who gets the justice here? dallas and adrien were the ones that were being hurt. the problem was taken care of. is the fact that two lives were lost really such a big deal in the grand scheme of things : now they couldn’t hurt anyone anymore. not each other, not adrien, not dallas. so who gets justice?  some strangers on behalf of the state of texas?

‘ yeah, ’  dallas nods, his head tucking underneath henry’s chin. his breath is heavy with the smell of menthol, and he huffs once as he thinks a little longer about the double standard. soldiers got to kill people they thought were bad. police got to kill people they thought were bad. so why couldn’t dallas? why couldn’t he kill someone he knew was bad? he presses gentle kisses to henry’s throat, leaves his lips there, feels the pulse. if only his father could see him now. that’s what they were fighting about when dallas shot and killed his father: because his son was a queer. he had drunkenly turned on adrien to ask if both of his sons liked to fuck men, and when he lifted his fist to lay hands on his silent boy, who wouldn’t respond, dallas had taken the gun off the table and put one in the back of his head. that got him thinking. could henry kill someone? would henry kill him?  ‘ i guess i am. it’s been a long couple of days, cher. but it’ll be right soon enough. tomorrow’s the last day. and then they get to tell me whether or not i’m going to jail. ’

he snorts. ‘ like jail will fucking stop me. ’

[crossedroad]

@roadmusic​ :  “i’m here, whatever you need. whatever you want.”   

𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒.   and that’s the sick beauty of it, isn’t it, is that dallas whitlock knows exactly that henry slaughter is there for him. whatever he needs, whatever he wants. all he has to do is ask. henry has spent so long trying to convince himself that he’s a good man. dallas doesn’t need to waste his time on something like that : he knows he’s a bastard. a sick fuck who gets off on pressing his boot into someone’s throat until they beg him to get off of them. they’ll scratch and claw at his boot and find leather under their fingernails, but dallas whitlock will sit there with the applied pressure until he knows he’s winning the fight.

he is a jackal in the skin of a man, a wicked grin and an unhinged look in his eyes apparent in everything he does. look at me, his body says, and henry always looks. how sweet that face used to be, when their tongues split between lips under the bleachers and in the boxcars, just before their lips were busted and their iron chains rattled. and now look at them, sick men looking at each other begging for some semblance of freedom. but this is dallas’ town, and everyone knows that. that’s why that texas ranger is keeping his distance. that’s why they’re sitting here, looking at each other, and dallas is thinking about the disconnect between his mind and his heart.

‘ i want you safe. ’  dallas says, and he looks down at the toe of his boot. bloody footsteps. rule four says that henry isn’t allowed to question it.  (  henry could break the rules if he wanted. henry’s real special.  )  he exhales slowly, a curtain of cigarette smoke leaving the corner of his mouth while they stand on the porch of RED’S .  red, dallas once said, cause i always either come’r’go from this place with my hands fuckin’ red.  but if you asked anyone unfamiliar with the pretty-boy owner, they’d say it’s because the boss’s hair turns red in the summer. thus, the nickname, li’l red.  ‘ safe and clean. with me. ’

the aftermath is unspoken. instead, dallas takes another drag of the cigarette as henry brings the beer bottle to his lips. with me, he says, because i can protect you.

[wmihradio]

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Bout to touchdown #paperchase #homebound #mrmih215 #roadmusic #wmihradio #phillyradio #njturnpike #gettintoit #essential (at Robbinsville, New Jersey) https://www.instagram.com/p/B_-rjxMhBtp/?igshid=1cy4xay0j0xoz

[rafverse]

Richard Ashcroft - They Don't Own Me (Official Music Video)