First I’ll share an image; then I’ll explain how the image was made. Maybe I’ll also gossip about my weekend.
The photo above is a work of postmodern art that I created by positioning a paper from a fortune cookie atop a picture from a magazine advertisement. Note the red laser and the television.
I mentioned a fortune cookie in the foregoing text. This item was included in a takeout meal that was purchased from a local eatery. The meal was labeled with a bright gold sticker, on which was written: zesty flavored rice and beef ligaments.
My mother paid me a surprise visit on Sunday afternoon. She brought with her, in a briefcase, the aforementioned takeout meal – yes, the same meal whose essence I cited only moments ago as consisting of soy sauce and tendons. Now I’ll tell about our chat:
Over dinner, my mother and I discussed how satisfying it is to finalize tax forms and repair malfunctioning printers. Then, when the time was right, my mother stood up and made an official announcement: She said that, someday soon, she will accompany her band’s lead singer on a road trip to Ottawa.
In order to commemorate my mother’s visit, I incorporated the actual paper from her meal’s fortune cookie in this blog entry’s artwork. What is not entirely apparent, however, is that the fortune’s paper also contains a string of lucky numbers on its backside; and, behold, these numbers are printed in human blood:
The account of my mother’s visit has come to an end. Now I will tell about my sister’s visit.
By sheer coincidence, the day before my own mother appeared on my doorstep, my sister showed up at my apartment wearing an overcoat and holding a matching taupe satchel. From this accessory she removed a clear plastic box that contained several pieces of fish and a bouquet of asparagus. This was my sister’s dinner. The meal smelled wonderful – I know this for a fact because I smelled it.
The fish was left uncooked, by design. It had been chopped into sizable pieces; and the outer edge of each slice had been coated appetizingly with sugar glaze and fried gourmet cracker batter.
My sister relayed good news during her visit. She described a luncheon that she enjoyed with her piano teacher’s tennis coach. She also told how her pregnant colleague’s husband was found in a gym. Then, at the opportune moment, my sister stood up and announced that she’ll be taking an airplane trip to the former Gulf of Siam.
One last item of note: At a baby shower, my sister was able to win the attention of an aloof waitress by gently touching her forearm.
Well, that’s all that I can think of to report about my weekend. If you happen to know how to pry up wooden floor tiles that have been fastened to a dining room’s linoleum with industrial-strength adhesive, please give my mother a call and underbid the ex-cons.