#unproved

[kiljoytrout]

Michael and Toby’s dynamic is based off of Emma and Jane Fairfax’s, you cannot convince me otherwise

[naturalgasnow]

Impact Fee (Tax) Has Huge Impact on Pennsylvania's Rural Counties

The Marcellus Shale Impact Fee has been a highly innovative and effective version of a severance tax. It has actually worked and put the money to proper use

[naturalgasnow]

Proved Reserves: Why They Grow Despite Fears of Running Out

Proved reserves of natural gas and other natural resources grow with technology, a point modern Malthusians such as fractivists never quite seem to grasp.

[isaac-asexy]

I wrote a short piece about the difference between being disproved and being unproved. It is also available in Spanish.

[iheartmoosiq]

Chris Holsten’s second single Unproved gets a smashing electro remix by fellow Norwegian act WDSTCK. It’s a swanky groover with Chris’ effortlessly smooth vocals shining front and center. Uplifting and dripping endless good vibes, WDSTCK’s beautiful remix glimmers and shines with a touch of future bass ambiance and some slicing funk. Purchase the remix on iTunes.

[mistermaxxx08]

things unproved

where has the rage

and what is the stage

and whom is the feeling

and how it sparks a debate

and wants to eat

and celebrate its cake

and then its own ordinary

bother  and delicate and then its own

spirit and then the other

and whose own believes

and where toward that center

and how it shoes are the ones

being used

and how it felt

and then it feels

 View On WordPress

[subquercus]

fall, again

So the chaff lay in the field—stark field An astronaut come off its chrome chariot Might call it stark, or some wooly troglodyte Time displaced from prehistory If either spoke in our terms.

You and some iceshagged commiserator Know there is no mystery to it The seasons tolling in their harvest of souls Like immaculate corpses Limp and splaylimbed by the bushel full…

Too late to go to the bathroom now You sit tight in your wickerwork Brain grinding like a mill Where your companion stood Now nothing but a sprucetree!

[subquercus]

timewarpers #4

M. didn’t sleep well that night. Laying in an unfamiliar darkness she had not yet had a chance to fill with comforting rationalizations, she felt old thoughts encroach at the edges of the mundane ones. The darkness itself seemed to have a streaming edge that dissipated into a still darker darkness. Worse yet, though she knew they were asleep there in the other reaches of the house, she did not feel like D. and P. were in the house any longer. Or perhaps that she was still in the same house. Instead she felt A.’s presence. She felt T.’s too. And S.’s. All the ones now so far out of reach, unsettlingly close. You’re doing it again, M. You’re thinking too much. You’re going to call them back. Leave them there. Leave them.

She nearly fell out of bed in her haste to get out of the room. To find the kitchen with the pretense of getting a glass of water. Maybe to find D.’s room and slip into bed with him, though she knew that would be a bad idea. She went to the study instead, to try to find P. All she found was his cot, a folded wool blanket, and a pillow. The upper half of the dutch door was open and moonlight fell through the opening across a bookcase. She cradled herself against the cold air as she read the spines of the books. What language were they written in? Arabic? Some kind of gobbledygook she never knew P. was able to read. Out of the corner of her eye she thought she glimpsed one in english script. “Regeneration from the Void” or something. But upon closer inspection, she could not find a single title in english.

One of the dogs barked outside. She peered across the dutch door to see if she could make out which one. She liked P.’s dogs, except for one. It was the black one, Thane, she wasn’t too fond of. It wasn’t friendly or playful or affectionate like the others. It just followed P. around, like a shadow. She found Clark, the australian shepherd, staring anxiously at something around the corner of the house. Then he bolted. She stepped out into the yard almost automatically. The coldness of the flagstones stung her bare feet. She felt the bare flesh of her arms and neck prickle with gooseflesh. Come here, Clark. Come back. I don’t want to go any further. But she did. The dog had stopped barking and for all she knew could have gone back into the house through whatever open door had let it out, but she went anyway, around the corner of the house toward the back, where the foot of the hill ended in a steep wash. There she was confronted by a most terrible sight.

Rising out of the dark hillside beside a massive oak stood a tower-like structure built out of the same stones as the house. It was a complicated structure that, in the dark, seemed utterly incoherent to her senses. It wasn’t particularly high or imposingly large, but she could not for whatever reason believe what she saw. Where a staircase rose she could find no terminus. A wall seemed to project from the side of the structure, serving no purpose. The windows were tall narrow apertures that seemed to be fixed impossibly deep into the masonry. No light shone from its interior. 

What the fuck, P. What the fuck.