David McLeod

“Ever since Gwenyth Paltrow got a new face sewn on to replace her original one that was destroyed by some hippy cure involving snake venom and organic battery acid, every mommyblogger on the planet wanted their doctor to find a cadaver on the down-low. Yoga classes looked like a demented Texas Chainsaw Massacre sequel these days.”
― Jon Konrath, Statue of Limitations

“Robin would describe the sensation of soft-brushing the sand of centuries off a Mayan rain-god mask”
― Evan Dara, The Lost Scrapbook

“K’b wielded a hatchet—and it was evident from the tense, feeble grip that, consistent with the portfolio review, craft was not a major strength of the exhibited work—heaving pensively like a desert hound, hair plastered to the brow. Xq’s every thought and feeling ever evaporated, replaced by a slow freezing of the nose and outer extremities and an ostrich-egg cracking of the sternum like glass holding blood boiled to gasoline, skull pressed through the nose. Stop, creaked the throat.”
― Robert Coover, Inside Out: Architectures of Experience

“We began to speak of the future in softened tones”
― Pamela Lu, Ambient Parking Lot