Παρασκευή 7 Σεπτεμβρίου 2012

transformer


thank you for the birthday card.
I am surprised you remembered that yesterday was my b-day, even more surprised that you were nice enough to send a card after the way  I treated you last year.
   I don' t know what comes over me sometimes and I behave like such a penis-head.
Actually I do know and I have to be honest enough to tell you.
    once upon a time there was a seven year old Charlie,well a six  year old Charlie about to turn seven. his mother in a rare instance of soberdom and in sudden impulse to play the proper mother card decided to throw him a party. she decorated their trailer with about a million balloons  and even bought Batman party favors for all the children.
   Kenny from next door showed up and played happy birthday to you on his fiddle as everyone sang and Charlie blew the candles wishing for this moment to never end.
later on the grown ups were listening to Lynyrd-Skynyrd records and the children had separated in Batman-teams and Joker-teams and were staging mythical Gotham city battles.
Charlie's mother as a proper hostess had to go on a beer run around midnight. on her way to her boyfriend's pick-up she came across her son, ran her fingers through his hair and whispered "momma loves you, birthday boy". her breath smelled like a moonshine factory, that was the last memory Charlie would have of his mother.
it's the reason that even though Charlie has smoked-snorted-injected-swallowed every drug known to man he has never consumed a single drop of alcohol.
near sunrise after everyone had left Charlie made some french toast which he drowned in maple syrup. while unwrapping his present, a shiny bat-mobile, the sheriff walked in accompanied by the social services lady, a young Aretha Franklin look-alike.
Charlie spent the next eight years in a chain of state institutions at the same time becoming a expert car thief. before he had a chance to be promoted to an armed robber or something even more prestigious by a stroke of luck he enrolled in a restaurant business course offered by the Jacksonville juvenile correctional facility.
   after a semester of potato peeling and shedding tears over a mountains of onions he was given an oppurtinity to unveil his uncanny talent for gourmet food creation.
talking about a blessing in disguise . the fact that his alcoholic mother never cooked, turned Charlie in some kind of kitchen-Mozart. he made his first western omelette having to stand on a chair so he could reach the frying pan, fefore turning five. he made meatloafs, cajun shrimp casseroles, a mean spaghetti carbonara, honey-roasted chicken and his specialty southern-fried veggies dipped in melted cheddar cheese.
   after his mother's departure to the great bar in the sky he was derprived of the joy of cooking. now after all this years as he found himself surrounded by pots and pans, the familiar aromas of spices and crates of fresh vegetables ready to be diced and sliced he felt born again.
you pretty much know the rest of the story. 
Charlie is me
and Charlie loves U.
I just hope now you have a better understanding why I threw the tantrum when you suggested that we go see that Batman movie last year. I have never seen a Batman movie. or why the stray dogs of the neighborhood ended up eating the cake you baked for my birthday last year after I tossed out the window.
sometimes I can be such an immature shit
pls love forgive me
thanx again

Παρασκευή 24 Αυγούστου 2012

wizards


I know I ain't smart but so what.
I know even though I got a fancy title like "sous chef" and an even fancier paycheck it don't mean shit.
I am learning a lot from Alex right now about the health benefits of oregano, about stuffing goat's cheece into squid and decorating it with basil leaves. He is teaching me to pay attention to detail.
   he says we are not mere cooks, we are wizards who create magic potions of happiness.
   people eat food everyday, they eat food at their homes, at the tacky fast food restaurants they go on their lunch breaks, at their family gatherings on sunday afternoons.
   they eat vulgar food drowned in salt and cheap mustard and barbeque sauce.
   for once in their lives by luck or destiny they come on our ship. they get the rare privilege to taste our magic potions and if the stars are positioned right and the moon is an giddy mood and the gods are feeling benevolent that one random person from Hackensack New Jersey or Akron Ohio mesmerised by our potions will go on to discover the cure for cancer, or ice-cream that doesn't make people fat or extraterrestrials will be impressed by his augmented intelligence and will finally come in contact with humans.
   that's how the book of life is written, Alex says.
   that is his favorite expression. the book of life.
everytime he comes up with a crazy story about us being able to tap into the collective spring of creativity it' s always written in the book of life.
it' s written on the bottom of his ouzo bottle if you ask me.
  anyway, I wanted to tell you how he almost fired me this morning for oversleeping and missing the breakfast prep, but this story will have to wait.
                                                                       until tomorrow
                                                      love love love for my MJ.

Τετάρτη 22 Αυγούστου 2012

do you wanna dance?

all ships have their ghost story. Alex is the head chef, that makes him my supervisor. not a bad guy. he plays the greek music too loud and puts oregano on everything (even on damn french fries, which actually makes them taste pretty good I must admit) but other than that he is ok.
   according to him on our ship the ghost lives in the very kitchen we work in. he started telling me all about it but he was called to the captain's quarters to discuss provisions.
  we will stay docked in Richmont for another week for maintainance and then we sail for a Caribbean cruise.
   what do you think of them apples, Mary Jane?
my very first Caribbean cruise.
   I miss you more than I love you and I love you so much that it hurts.
   downloaded and listening to Rocket to Russia by the Ramones. did you know that Joey was diagnosed with OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder) when he was 18? he is the ultimate punk voice of america. he looks like a damn cartoon being so skinny and all but the music has so much energy. it sounds like sixties surf rock but there is something very dark and sinister underneath.
  I mean, listen to the way he sings do you wanna dance? there something in his voice like he is fed up with the bitch and dancing with him is her last chance or else he'll punch her in the nose and throw her in the mud.
    my favorite tracks are: Sheena is punk rocker, Rockaway Beach and I don't care which is another angry song. my all-time favorite Ramones son
g is I wanna be sedated but it's not on this album. enough talk about music.
you must write and tell me what is new with you.
   also send a picture and tell me if there is anything you want. the picture I will put on the wall over my hammock so you can be my official pin-up girl and the last thing I see every night before I fall asleep
 

hey Mary Janey wave bye-bye to your tired sailor

Τρίτη 21 Αυγούστου 2012

why can't I be you


hey, tutty fruity face

I just remembered these creams you always put on your face that make you smell so fruity and your tiny nose that looks like a white strawberry. did you know that strawberries actually exist? well, they do.
I bought you a silver ring. it's a tiny skull . looks like a bird's skull dipped in silver which is kinda creepy even to me. the eyes are red stones, bright like fresh blood.
I'm in my bunk right now listening to the Cure's kiss me kiss me kiss me. Robert Smith, what a dude. I wish I could be like him, minus the lipstick and the goofy hair. what I mean is I wish I was sensitive enough to write stuff like just like heaven instead of writing that your face reminds me of a fruit salad.
anyway I know you love me the stupid way I am.
I kiss you on your stawberry.

your humble slave 
Charlie