of a great meal.
neon dreams
I want to kiss you in the forest
Where all is dark except we make our own stars.
I twinkle around you
The sparkle in a stolen sentiment.
You can put out a fire with your gaze
Throb a red heart with a pulse in your step.
You have lightening bugs in you fingertips
A tight tune in your hug.
Olfactory desires and health.
I love tacos to death do us part. If I were to have a last meal, it would be tacos and tequila, hands down, maracas shaking, for sure.
Paleo tacos. Shredded green plantain. Soak it is salt water, the fry like tiny hash browns. It is crispy and tastes like sweet corn. The smell is even reminiscent of the great corn tortilla. Which says a lot because the smell of corn tortilla cooking and charring slightly is my favorite smell of all time.
What’s your favorite smell?
Eating in America Sucks #3
Ketchup.
Heinz ketchup.
Heinz ketchup has single-handedly brainwashed every American. Do not ever say foodie to me, ever, because I swear that you do want ketchup on that damn fine burger. Don’t give me this a ‘hot dog doesn’t get ketchup’ bullshit when Heinz is in every kitchen across ‘Merica, from casual dinner, to upscale diner, to Artisanal burger bar, to high-end restaurants.
The thing is, nobody wants house made ketchup. Every one secretly and openly wants Heinz. Not the 27 variety spiel, just that one uniquely bland taste of tomato paste and corn syrup goodness.
Because everyone is addicted to sugar, that smooth sweet paste is craved by all. Even you.
Hence we are all brain washed. It has created such an understated niche monopoly on food culture, that we are hesitate even to notice how pervasive this product is. Understand, there is no other ketchup. Heinz is ketchup like Bandaid is bandage and Rollerblades are inline skating.
I think it is time to buy stock in this company.
Wednesday Rant
God love advertising. I love that the personalize ads that show up on every website you visit is geared towards either food or sex. How come colored pencil ads never pop up? Where is the art? If the Oracle knows everything about my life, how come it doesn’t try to appeal to Marigold? I spend way more time on marigold than underwear.
What’s up, google, you creep?
Get a better clue.
-Mari Mari
Matrix meets Dr. Who
ARE YOU AFRIAD THAT GOOGLE IS GOING TO START TO READ YOUR MIND? Ads already filter your thoughts by deducing what you want based on purchases and websites you visit… what happens when google/oracle skips the search field step and does it for you? By thinking about what to ask the oracle, the search engine complies and compiles a list of everything you might need to know about said pondered topic.
Sound so convenient and practical and like something I would use, but like creepy.
Creepy.
I am a little scared.
Do you think that you can impose a restraining order against google?
Food for thought?
I’m not weird, I’m imaginative
I am nuts, strangers think it and my friends know it.
I don’t try to hide the weird personality that lurks inside me, I embrace it. I don’t care if people think that I am crazy or eccentric.
I like to embrace the strange and unusual. This influences other people around me to accentuate their oddities. Seriously, no matter how hard they try, they are not going to be stranger than how I present myself. It helps people open up. Let’s embrace the unusual, let’s explore all the multi-dimensional channels of expression.
Mari Mari
Marigold is making me happy, I like her. I like having her presence in my life. She is my escape, she is my figment of confidence. I look forward to checking in with her, to see how she is doing, to see what she is thinking about. Marigold is refreshing because she cares mostly about the abstract issues at hand, but nothing concrete. Ok well to specify, nothing too concrete outside of the world of fanciful plated desserts and the kitchen life that goes along with the artful culinary escapade. But, to counter, that is actually Marinara’s Realm. But since Marinara does not have HER own blog, she makes cameo appearances here.
Hope you all are enjoying the show as much as we are!
-Mari Mari
the poor man’s slow hustle
Its hard to be creative when you are always tired. Where is the inspiration when even mundane movements are gruesome? Where is the hope when the justice of any pay off is not there?
I am afraid of working too hard because it is going to make Marigold dull.
I am afraid of loosing her sharp edge with the dulling intensity of work.
-Me
Scrambled Eggs
It’s not that I am dyslectic
It’s that I get excited and jump ahead.
I don’t care about the exact order right now.
It’s not like I don’t understand the analytics of phonetic jig
I just don’t really care.
Does dyslectic entail being too concerned with the entire parade instead of those tiny details of tiny letters?
How did the Egyptians do it with the superbly detailed drawn language?
Cursive, the lazy man’s scribble,
is seriously a lot of work.
marigolds forever 