The other night I had a dream that while standing in the port break I saw this guy in a banka boat paddling a few yards from the ship. In the rain and in the full moon light I could see that we were surrounded by thousands of banka boats while we were making twenty knots through the water. Suddenly all at once every one of them started chanting a call to prayer. It woke me up in a panic.

The crew had surf and turf for dinner. Which is to say we had lobster tails, and some sort of beef, and shrimp. I enjoyed the shrimp, and the pecan pie was excellent. I think I can finally join the club of those who have a favorite pie, and mine is pecan. If you ever have a chance to make it out to Ts dinner in North Bend, formally the Double R of Twin Peaks, I would pass on the cherry pie. I might just pass the second time on the whole experience really. If you ever have a chance to make it to my house for the harvest celebration I highly recommend the pecan pie.

So as with every time the ship tries to have a good meal rumors fly around of impending doom, or as those lacking in couth say “We’re waiting for the big dick”. I have yet to see bad news following a surf and turf, but none the less this lore is taken for common law. Other rumors insist that the order to have this meal came down from the admiral, knowing the morale of the crew. This morning the captain made a speech that lasted almost an hour telling everyone of their good deeds, and reminding everyone that we are at war. He spoke of cutting ports and gaining medals in the future. I missed most of it while in slumber.

I’m just waiting for my eggs.

Last night I was so tired that I fell asleep listening to Sonic Youth, and Kim Gordon’s voice didn’t even bother me.


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