First stop after taking a crap is the Long House.
Their coffee is always a good kick start to the day.
I told Ming about the price of coffees here. He runs the cafe around the corner.
Is Jeoffrey the owner or a worker?
I'm the owner.
Just as I thought.
You can't beat the $1.20 Ringgit coffee and free wifi.
'I've got wifi,' he says.
Well you can't beat their coffee prices.
I always thought Jeoffrey was the owner.
He's gone quiet on me.
It always happens.
But the Long House doesn't discern who is a nice and a bad customer.
They'll serve you up a coffee if you can pay for it.
It's just that simple.
Crab man crabs along. The whore who asked me for a fuck a month back gets one Ringgit from a Chinese customer sitting a few tables up from me and buys a coffee. She's mumbling to herself.
The other loony got a Coke out of me the other day.
'He's crazy,' said the Indonesian waitress who asked me if I was his friend. Of course I was, on that day, but the winds of resolutions have been known to change.
Mr. Crazo who mumbles to himself in Malay and Chinese is now sitting at my table, uninvited of course, and tries the 'I want a coke' trick.
It worked like a charm last time. He was just about to pull it off again.
Well he can fuck off, I wasn't born yesterday. I don't like his company that much. But that said, I had still placed an order of a Coke for him, his powers of persuasion, mostly subliminal, are quite powerful.
God bless the waitress. I could tell she didn't like tourists being taken for a ride by mentally ill locals.
'Cancel that order,' I said to the waitress as I bolted out of the Long House. She just gave me a funny look. Was I imagining all this?
I just didn't want that Coke ending up on his table and me paying for it later.
Another note to self, it wouldn't have happened. You don't get the drinks unless you pay for them on arrival. Man, that loony had me in a real fucking funk. I needed to sever relations with him permanently before I became him.
He needed to learn a lesson. He had me in a bind which I was keen to get out of. Running has always been the best strategy.
All the loony got that day were the dregs of my coffee while I legged it resolving to cut him off forever.
He didn't like it. The next day he gave me a dirty look.
Tough love, I call it, and tough shit. I won't fall for the 'I'm-mad-and-have-pity-on- me' trick again.
I'm always watching my pennies and buying coke and supplying cigarettes to this loony isn't helping me at all.
I'm eyeing up a walk.
Do I really want to push it?
My body needs it, my mind is saying ease up.
The cold is lingering. No sooner the ears cleared up that they decided to not to clear up.
Nothing major.
Bitching aside, Borneo is growing on me.
I think I'll ponder what to do next over a coffee.
Surely I'm bound to get some kind of inspiration.
Wait, the homeless whore comes up to my table.
Sure you can have a cigarette
She sits down at the next table.
I can see her bum cheeks as her track pants move south when she takes a seat.
Her trackies are stained with shit and piss. But I notice she still has all the curves as I snatch an eyeful of her bum cheeks.
Life could be worse. The Long House doesn't discern between good and bad. There's an equality about the place that is devoid of all pretenses.
Money is the common denominator here.
The degenerate Chinese bum behind me has just finished his Guinness and takes off. It's not even midday.
They say longhouses are communal places.
No kidding Jackson.
Their coffee is always a good kick start to the day.
I told Ming about the price of coffees here. He runs the cafe around the corner.
Is Jeoffrey the owner or a worker?
I'm the owner.
Just as I thought.
You can't beat the $1.20 Ringgit coffee and free wifi.
'I've got wifi,' he says.
Well you can't beat their coffee prices.
I always thought Jeoffrey was the owner.
He's gone quiet on me.
It always happens.
But the Long House doesn't discern who is a nice and a bad customer.
They'll serve you up a coffee if you can pay for it.
It's just that simple.
Crab man crabs along. The whore who asked me for a fuck a month back gets one Ringgit from a Chinese customer sitting a few tables up from me and buys a coffee. She's mumbling to herself.
The other loony got a Coke out of me the other day.
'He's crazy,' said the Indonesian waitress who asked me if I was his friend. Of course I was, on that day, but the winds of resolutions have been known to change.
Mr. Crazo who mumbles to himself in Malay and Chinese is now sitting at my table, uninvited of course, and tries the 'I want a coke' trick.
It worked like a charm last time. He was just about to pull it off again.
Well he can fuck off, I wasn't born yesterday. I don't like his company that much. But that said, I had still placed an order of a Coke for him, his powers of persuasion, mostly subliminal, are quite powerful.
The Indonesian waitress ignored my order while the fucktard sat next to me chain-smoking my cigarettes. This was déjà vu all over again. I was back in Medan being fleeced by that speed freak motorbike driver.
God bless the waitress. I could tell she didn't like tourists being taken for a ride by mentally ill locals.
'Cancel that order,' I said to the waitress as I bolted out of the Long House. She just gave me a funny look. Was I imagining all this?
I just didn't want that Coke ending up on his table and me paying for it later.
Another note to self, it wouldn't have happened. You don't get the drinks unless you pay for them on arrival. Man, that loony had me in a real fucking funk. I needed to sever relations with him permanently before I became him.
He needed to learn a lesson. He had me in a bind which I was keen to get out of. Running has always been the best strategy.
All the loony got that day were the dregs of my coffee while I legged it resolving to cut him off forever.
He didn't like it. The next day he gave me a dirty look.
Tough love, I call it, and tough shit. I won't fall for the 'I'm-mad-and-have-pity-on- me' trick again.
I'm always watching my pennies and buying coke and supplying cigarettes to this loony isn't helping me at all.
I'm eyeing up a walk.
Do I really want to push it?
My body needs it, my mind is saying ease up.
The cold is lingering. No sooner the ears cleared up that they decided to not to clear up.
Nothing major.
Bitching aside, Borneo is growing on me.
I think I'll ponder what to do next over a coffee.
Surely I'm bound to get some kind of inspiration.
Wait, the homeless whore comes up to my table.
Sure you can have a cigarette
She sits down at the next table.
I can see her bum cheeks as her track pants move south when she takes a seat.
Her trackies are stained with shit and piss. But I notice she still has all the curves as I snatch an eyeful of her bum cheeks.
Life could be worse. The Long House doesn't discern between good and bad. There's an equality about the place that is devoid of all pretenses.
Money is the common denominator here.
The degenerate Chinese bum behind me has just finished his Guinness and takes off. It's not even midday.
They say longhouses are communal places.
No kidding Jackson.
