blank shore

"There's just no product." -Tex Pitfield,

president, Saraguay Petroleum Corporation

transferring

Deep within the lithosphere, there’s an absence of light. The darkness is a fluid. A thick, rich mixture, the last traceable remains of a billion uncharted creatures suddenly churns to life.

Seven and a half bucks for a gallon of gas. That’s what some Carolina folks spent on gas before the hurricane slammed into Texas. People weren’t just filling their cars, many were filling reserve canisters, even barrels in preparation of a shortage. Lines of cars backed up a half a mile during the feeding frenzy. There was a run on gas for fear that the tanks would run dry.

This week, the price of gas has backed down. It’s more or less business as usual here in western Carolina. We’re possessed by prehistoric demons.

It should be quite clear that we have an unhealthy, unsustainable addiction to oil. Hurricane or no, this is an ongoing crisis. Despite this obvious problem, we continue to rely on a dwindling supply of fossil fuels to function day to day.

I seriously mistrust the leadership abilities of someone possessed by oil.

sky turns green

i think i'm gonna be sick...

firebirth

a different world

The Labor Day is drawing to a close. I hope you had a good one. My shoulders seem a bit more slouched. It’s good to know that an hour drive from Marion can bring us to the highest ridge in the east. This place reminds me that it is indeed the Wild that reigns.

“Pay attention, pay attention, I hope you’re thru you and I hope you’re concentrating.”
–David Byrne, "Warning Sign"