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This was originally a automatic post to my blog from the RSS reader desktop application called “Reeder.” I have deleted the post of the article – some of the markup was removed. MarsEdit certainly requires some tailoring under the hood and synchronizing with each respective blog type before it yields expected results. has MarsEdit [...] a href=”http://www.darcydahl.com/m_001/darcydahl_001.html” resume /a Share on Facebook Originally my blog’s home. Curdling gurgles of perception’s attrition: Interview with a meretricious movement analyst. Stuck shoulder-high in the crevasse, her arm – taut sinew squeezing skin against craggy rock – frozen excoriations stretched into icy distended digits under the breeze. Gaunt fingers isometrically craving. Caved in, straining for a trusted texture. She sat down across from [...] An invigorating rhetorical pugilist who prides himself on keeping informed and practices an inventive and engaging brand of historical revisionism. Our conversations never failed to inspire however intractably Kevin required adherence to his carefully plotted script. Now he’s written a popular book for other unrestrained market evangelists. Here’s a link to a c-span luvfest [...]
sketchbook detail – '86 Mom hid this book under the bed when they came for me. Detail of the back page and cover. Procedural deconstruction: box cutter jabbed through dimple-covered cardboard-veiled wrist in quick successive jabs till the flood poured out from between the covers. Share on Facebook [...] She peeked around the corner into the room on her way to the toilet. What did she see without her glasses – what apparition did her imagination codify with the data gathered in her myopic somnolence? It was parses during the discovery initiated by her own queries during reObuscation. This is a 4D model of [...] The salmon malaise tweed build of this labyrinthine interface (mistakenly read yesterday’s passages. It’s) rubbing off on my tender nascent (nocturnal?) mourning. Share on Facebook I arrived on a monday. I wanted to hang out with ma. She wasn’t eating, so I had come prepared to encourage her, or to drive a noisy propped plane or a locomotive into her mouth. When I arrived in Minneapolis, my mother met me a the airport.* As we drove to see my grandmother, [...] Eric Dahl pleads for life – granted by brother just before being forked by a peanut butter sandwich. [...] |
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