sushi train in vein….

sushi on bondi beach, approximately 108 hours before departure, not that i’m counting……
i’m sitting at a “sushi-train” location. it’s got revolving plates of sushi and other tastes running by on a stainless-steel conveyor belt.
i think i saw it in a movie somewhere, sometime.

the first plate was japanese fried chicken.
spicy-good.
that’s all the reviewing i’ll be doing today.
i followed with all sorts of sashimi and sushi and got that drug-buzz always associated with eating this stuff.
i will forever equate all things between life and death in terms of getting high. if you know me, you know that.

the price of each dish is determined by the color of the plate it’s served on. those dishes, plus the bottle of sparkling water came out to about twenty bucks.
as i sit here, i’m thinking;
it’s already in my head to open up a venue and start raiding salvation army warehouses and basements of dead eclectics.
all i need is someone with a billion dollars. things are really expensive down here and cost overruns can be fatal.
i don’t need it all, but it would be good to know that whoever it is has a cushion to fall back on in case things don’t work out.
i’m always thinking of the investor.
i’ve been told that the real-easate market is more inflated here than anywhere else on earth and after riding in the watertaxi last week and listening to the pilot, i truly believe it.
who can afford to buy a home for 61 million dollars and better yet, what kind of neighborhood has a bunch of these things lining a waterway?
of course, as if orchestrated, that lizard guy appeared at the window of that home.
he feigned noticing me because he didn’t have to.
it was about me seeing him and he knows i did and when i return home he’ll mock me about that too, the bastard.
if you’re wondering how that happened that he made it here, you’ve just got to look back earlier postings where i explain how they can switch-off with others anywhere in the solar systems by getting someone else to swap – it’s like apartment swapping except your body’s the apartment, that is, if you’re a martian guy. i think rank has something to do with it, too. it’s like commandeering a taxi in a hard-boiled cop movie where the guy stops the car and flashes his badge.
“police business.”
i think police business is a great name for a band.

though it is not a sunny beach-day, i decided to come here for a few reasons.
one of them is “re-con” – we’re supposed to have dinner tomorrow (saturday) with a woman who’s some type of media/tv-personality down here.
i met her at the party at joy’s house last week and robert told me that he went to another party (i didn’t go to) a few days later and was invited to dinner this saturday.

…….which i did and now i’m sitting at cafe awaiting coffee and strudel i have no business eating.
if i were to a affix the words, “i have no business eating,” to every meal i shouldn’t have,….oh, never mind.
i can only hope the piano falls from the window and lands square on my head.
the alternative, due to my dining proclivities, has me a blind man with no arms and legs.
and that’s if i’m what….?
lucky?

i would have used a super-giant scissor jack.
i think the aesthetics would have been better.

About stephen trimboli

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