The Fast Lane
Wednesday. A trip down the street to the sushi restaurant for a large flask of sake, a beef ribs dish and two Dragon Rolls, all of which were quite tasty. This set the evening off in a way the evening needed: alcohol, but not too much and something light and tasty for dinner (for about a million dollars). Good sushi out in the neighborhoods does tend to be pricey, but what the hell, enjoy it while you can. Best to be mellow facing, as one does, the long grey winter coming.
Why not start with something like: “Hi! The Prop here, feeling pretty good”. Why the “long grey whatever”?
Literary license and sloth. Why sit here writing about sushi for dinner - a break from the routine, yes, but hardly national news - when you can write about the collision of worlds, love and death, Lima beans and rot gut whiskey? The literary passions of my youth?
Readership (too little); embarrassment (too much); self respect (absolutely none) for starters.
Quibble, quibble. This is the Internet with a capital “I”, me-oh-my. Anything goes in Internet prose (cause there's no payroll to meet and you're the editor. And the publisher. And the international media conglomerate bent on mischief).
Thursday. A “social” after work, the first drink free, buy your own afterwards. I normally attend these things, although the political aspect runs pretty high at our operation. Still, a Guinness and then another Guinness, a Buffalo wing and then a couple of Nachos while it rained pretty hard outside PCB until I left for home. Life in the fast lane, I would say, here in Oakland.
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