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.

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 song 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

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