So I set out last weekend to get what might be the last Ding Dong of my life.
There have been new 3-D versions of "My Bloody Valentine" and "Night of the Living Dead".
The task is paralyzing because what gets displayed is a shout out that says: This is a 3-D representation of my character, interests, taste, intellect and travels.
In that moment I had an awareness of how absolutely powerless I felt in the immensity of the pending storm; my thoughts were busy painting a grim 3-D picture of my newly planted palm trees floating out to sea.
But it was very wild to see a 3-D picture of my backyard, and I sent it to Emma and I said, "This is what's in the backyard". She was like, "I can not believe that.
A tall-'n'-ombre-d handful of my girlfriends work in and around fashion and here is a lil' random sampling from my Gmails yesterday: "Come hang, whoremouth" and "ROLLERCOASTERS INSPIRED BY MOVIES AND NAMED SOMETHING RANDOM TO AVOID COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT" and "Major love.
Perhaps like this: Inspired by visual platforms such as Pinterest and Instagram, I go to an online tool, upload a 3-D scan of my feet and design my shoes, using digital templates which propose designs that I can alter -- changing color, tissue, heel heights, types of tips, and so on.
But Herr Kronstadt has gone too far in his ill-tempered review in your columns, for he has not only obdurately refused to accept the Ding an sich of my modest postulates but has launched on a course of reckless misinterpretation and misquotation that I can only regard as intentional.
So my vector of d, my vector of d's is a whole lot of zeroes on the negative side.
"D wanted some of my pasta, and she can't have it".
