My favorite image transformation

I love messing with photos.  I have no training or talent but it sure is fun.  I used the free program Picnik.Com for the transformation of the photo below.

The coolest part was turning a black and white photo to color.  

Momofuku and the Chicken Wing Test

[This blogware stinks. Some links were added manually.]

I was writing this post at Amicci's bar, but the conversation of a couple next to me kept jabbing in like the cold nose of a beagle. They were a young man and woman whose stiff questions and forced anecdotes gave the appearance of a first date. I usually flee from that situation for my own sanity. That night I decided to stay and write down some of their words in between my own. And now ... voyeuristic noodle theater.

 
Chip: Gulps from a heady pint of Moretti La Rossa. "You're part Polish? Do you know where the term 'dumb pollock' comes from?"
Chip launches into a history of the Poles' resistance to Nazi mechanized cavalry (tanks) with horse cavalry.  
Ashley: "Oh" and then sips Michelob Ultra from the bottle.
Too much yap-yap junior jarhead, slow our roll.
 
So, delicious ramen noodles, where are you from?  
 
The process for turning traditional ramen into packaged noodles was pioneered by Momofuku Ando, the founder of Nissin Foods in Japan. In 1970 Nissin introduced Top Ramen to the United States. It was even named the greatest Japanese invention of the century in a poll. Ramen is the Japanese pronunciation of the Chinese lamian or lo mein, meaning "hand-pulled noodles".  
 
How am I going to weave these threads together? It's like knitting ramen with chopsticks.  
 
Chip: "The girl I'm gonna marry is 13 years old right now."
Ashley: Icy Michelob Ultra silence.
What? Back pedaling, Chip explains that he doesn't want to get married for at least ten years, but ewwww. He then orders a shot of Corazón tequila to add some luster to his pervy patina. If this is a date, it just circled the drain.
 
Quick, change the topic. I used to eat the raw ramen like snacks. I saved the unused flavor packets in a drawer for seasoning or soup later. That never happened.
 
Chip: Switches to Clipper City Loose Cannon. "For a first date I like to take a girl out for wings. If she can pick a chicken wing clean, then she passes about eight different tests. And I can see how she reacts [to how I eat.]"
Ashley: "That's smart."

Nooooooo. There are so many things wrong with that. Ladies? Does the chicken wing test sound like something that would work for you? I tend to avoid messy food for first dates. Actually I like to avoid first dates altogether. I wouldn't think of ramen as either a date food or a messy food, but in Japan it is both and slurping is considered good etiquette.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aT7TtJh_Il8

Ashley: Regarding her Michelob Ultra: "I do like the feel of the cold bottle".
Not boding well for you Chicken Winger Chip.
 
My college friend Balthazar used to make two packages of ramen at a time and eat them from the pot like an angry badger.  
 
Ashley: On her phone checking on her fantasy girl's volleyball league.
Chip: "You gotta really be into that to know anything. Uh, I just know those two chicks from the Olympics."
That's bikini beach volleyball Chipwich. Apparently there was a girl's volleyball convention in town, with Little Italy awash in Sporty Spicettes in ponytails and matching team warm-up suits.
 

Fantasy volleyball league? How about a fantasy ramen world where monkeys make the noodles?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aT7TtJh_Il8 

 
Ashley: On and on regarding the rules about injuries in girls' volleyball tournaments. "Because it's totally unfair to use the 1989 rule book just because no one has the current rule book. It's just not fair!"
Chip: "We like to keep the bottle caps from beer in our pockets to show much we drank last night. Sometimes I pick them up from the street to cheat."
Now they're not even trying to connect and Chip is talking directly to me ... as I'm typing his words.
 
The photos on ramen packages show healthy vegetables, sliced pork and chicken, but really, the usual additives were hotdogs, Tabasco and desperation.
 
Chip: "I heard that Mr. Rogers was a trained assassin and ex-Special Forces marine in Viet Nam who killed a lot of dudes, man. He wore cardigans to hide the sick tattoos that covered his arms."
Ashley: Not even listening; peeling the label from her beer bottle and thinking about fantasy volleyball.
 
I heard that Momofuku Ando was murdered by ninjas and his spirit haunts ramen makers as the bespectacled ghost Noodlehead [See photo above.]
 
Although a pillar of comfort and poverty food, I don't think that ramen is in the same league as Kraft Macaroni and Cheese.  
 
Chip: "You ready to roll baby?"
Ashley: Uh huh.
 
And off they went to ...  the Ramen Museum? 
 
And ... scene!
 

 
Let ramen be the finale of seem.

The Horror, the Horror ...

So Word didn't install properly, so no gloomy poems yet.  Worse than that my hard drive started making high pitched noises like tacks in a blender yesterday.  Then in just died.  It is still making slightly less harsh sounds, but I fear the end is near.

This morning I woke up feeling confused and rudderless because I thought I would be wihtout the internet again for a time.  Technology is the cure for enlightment.  Talk about ruining a quiet mind.

Laura Lee brought up the grieving process.  I think I went through that a month ago when my wireless connection died.  What are the steps?  Anger, denial, bargaining and acceptance.  I won't tell you the mnemonic tric for remembering that.  Okay, I'll change it a little: Always drink alcohol before doing anything.  The stages were similar.    Now I try to save various things until my hard drive commits suicide.  

Why So Glum Chum?

Ah that picture reminds me of the good old days when I used to play the accordian for coins in Ljubljana.  Now it's all winter and discontent.  It was 49 in my bedroom this morning.  I didn't mind at all.  Spite is the most warming of all emotions.  BG&E isn't getting any more of my tolars than necessary.  My utuilty bill for January was $80.  Ha!  It's a good thing that I have superhuman circulation and a new down quilt.   

My wireless connection stopped working around January 6 and I spent a few days trying to fix it with no luck.  First I had a panic attack from being disconnected form the unreality of the internet.  Next I decided to experience that feeling fully.  Then enlightment, in a small way.  I decided to go without technology for a while.  I started reading some zen books and practicing mindful breathing.  Bam!  It all made sense finally.  Then I knew I had to avoid the distractions and empty instant gratifications of the internet.  So I drank wine and read Thich NhatHanh and Pema Chodron, Buddhists of different traditions, but very accessible for Westerners.  It turns out that depression and enlightment are quite similar.  In both cases nothing matters.  Sort of.

In the end I had to completely reinstall Windows to fix my TCP/IP software.  I'm still reinstalling stuff and downloading plug-ins.

I was inspired by Laura Lee's questions about when I would get this thing rolling again.  I'm not inspired yet but I figure I'll give it a stab.  Now to install Word.  Now reboot, etc etc etc.  So thank you for the encourement LL.  I will be scanning the archives for something ridiculously depressing to go with the season and my mood.  I hope you visit soon and comment.  

I Must Have One

I Left My Heart in Sam Clam's Disco

Just when I thought I had really run out of food poems, I found one that seems to be inspired by a pasta package ... and Satan! Originally the two different versions were side by side, but it doesn't fit that way here.  I would like to say that it is just fun and free of any deeper meaning, but you never know. 

Cool photo.  I added some Photoshop effects.  Great, now I'm hungry for clams.  Mmm... Rocco's in Little Italy has a great vongole appetizer.  

 

 

                        Linguini 17 Clam Sauce Recipe

In the seaport city of Naples they use fresh clams in this classic White Clam Sauce.  Canned clams make a quick and easy – but still authentic – and delicious variation.
– Ronzoni package 

 
 In Shreveport sin it’s not please            
 thank you it’s flay my flesh crams          
 it in claws slick wit I                                  
 Can’t Cause dem lambs make cake        
 clot an deez evil buts all frantic              
 hands they lash for reason.

In a Sleeze port, sit’n ape the eels they 
flow scram slick through sewers
blames crêche Franta Claws and
Clama Cause pees in deep
Zees but still gawks the takes
bans the fishious vary barely ates them.

Heads will roll

Since the lovely alliterative Laura Lee liked the last one, I'm posting another word salad surprise.  Deal with it.  You'll thank me later.

One problem with this blog site is that when you copy text onto it it loses all the formatting.  This next poem was a pain to recreate the formatting.  I'm not sure it matters, but hey, you don't want to piss off a sensitive artist.  The font was too small yesterday.  I fixed it.

    losing our heads (over Cuba)

Ooops! all heads fall off
             passengers seat backs fullupright 
             blood-less detachment with massive
             jerk over Cleve(d)land roiling
             boling a round aisles not properly
             stowed under seats
             and                    nodded off no noggin bodies
                                        snooze on end others flip
                                        through Time Life People
                                       &
     heads head will roll thanks my
     God to turbulents and rollicky
     tumblepath flight of headless crew
(now)
besuited MBA baldly grapplechews 
                pantleg teeth(c)limbing
                to reattach but not attracts
                no attention of bodymate
                        Hello
porcupine haircut w/ stamenthin
‘stache corners stewardess
                                                  in: corner licks off blush
while& she tongues into aisle,
           crew…is…bowling into
          cabindoor but no body heeds
DISNEY®bound vacationeers       MOLECULING 
around in Avoga(u)dry mirth AND     
                a wilted vegetarian a
                lounge singer lock:mouths
    behind the 1st Class bulkhead
make neck-breathing whistlehums 

American Air 321 pinballs the Caribbean
                                                 ignoring the gravity of it all
just displacing entropy with clutter and 
the head          (of an) accountant 
                         unties women’s shoes 
                         tongue and t-t-teeth who-cares

 

1998

Sub-Bourbon Dreams

I really tried to find something happy and interesting for today.  I can't quite make those two things work together.  Calling Doctor Bombay ... I'm afraid faithful reader and adroit commenter Laura Lee might be having nightmares about her kitchen by now.  I did find this bit a hallucigenia (is that a word?).   I hate the suburbs so I'm okay with letting the dogs take over.  I wasn't convinced about this one until I saw the (sub)burban/bourbon wordplay.   Hmmm ... I think my title is better than the one below. 

 

  When the dogs take over suburbia

Black stuttered shutterds nailed
opento bricks not shutup
ornamuhmental howhowse
with squirrelrobins stapledto

oaktreelawn ornamuhmints
ceramicwhite kittypaws fixed
to bricks backtacked as the 
lackeredblack stutters unhide

the burbanslob bourbonflesht
unrealing inside
  fuh fuh
whatthe fuhfuh hesays asthe

neighbuh borhood dogsnot 
pokerplaying drive a toothpicksharp
(Milk Bone trained dogeschewed)
picketwhite stake inna the

velveeta painting of 2dogsuit
people buttsniffing bumperchasing
pierces the fabric HeyHoYipYip
so Luckycracks open a bottle uh

bloodNsprays down the wallpaper 
cuz he shookitup & fizzed
fuhgleeing over the smattered

melancolliemood of the staketosser
as his muhmuh aster limps
from the frame.

 1998

If only...