I’ve carried this scrap of paper in my wallets since junior year of high school. That I keep it because I still think it perspicacious, witty, and wise in its way, displays my enormous ego. The fact that I cast myself as the fat man in my own story shows my poor self image, in both thinking myself obese back then and for suggesting that I won’t know the answers to my important questions even if they were to bite me on my big, fat butt.
i bought these in a lot at an Antique Mall in Beaumont, CA, the city of antique malls. Either fronts of or inserts to greeting cards from the early 20th century, they are now just singles with nothing on the obverse. I’ve been trying to decide if I would prefer best wishes or loving wishes. I’ll save the discussion of disappointment over wish cards, my lament about my ignorance regarding wish etiquette (does the sender make a wish on my behalf and then send me notification or are my correspondents sending me unused wish, to be be made at my discretion? I just wish I knew. D’oh! Just wasted another one of mine) for some other time.
I’m not sure I did it justice, but when I saw that “yank” in a mag ad, I just had to try to use it.
Turn of the (last) century bay area cards, Santa Cruz Boardwalk and Stowe Lake from Golden Gate Park as they were a hundred years ago.
Found poetry? Art therapy? Practice for randsom notes? Anyone out there amongst my tens of viewers enjoy intentional ambiguity? Anyone?
PS: The technique I used to cut and paste the images into their (hopefully) intriguing juxtapositions? I used sharp blades to “cut” the images from non-e-magazines, and a tacky material, semi-liquid, you know, sort of a roue, about the consistency of mashed potatoes, which when applied to papers and allowed to dry, will hold my paper scraps in place. We called it “glue.”