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I’m stupid.

If you say it enough, you start believing your own hype.

Borneo has me under a writing spell. I couldn’t ease up even if I wanted too.

‘Me stupid man.’

It just rolls off my tongue.

A stupid man with money is better than a stupid man without. It’s the hard cash that’s sheltering me from the school of hard knocks.

I just ducked outside, for a little walk. I left all my gadgets on my table at the hotel’s coffee shop. I’m the only customer that hangs out at the Green Leaf Cafe. After breakfast is served, you hardly see another customer.

Four hours later, all my stuff, even my cigarettes are on the table. And my tunes are still pumping out on my blue tooth speaker.

I passed Daisy who sells lemon tea, in her mid-twenties, Chinese with an adorable smile. A guy was in the middle of the road, just outside her little booth on the side of the road, attacking the plants with a bamboo stick. He was hacking away, lost in his own little world.

At first glance, it looked like a detail from the local council. Upon a second more scrutinizing look, it was a man out of his mind and taking it out on the plants. He was moving in the direction of the church. He had already smashed the shit out of ten plants.

It’s not an easy job to prune the plants on a Sunday in stifling heat, but this shirtless street bum made light work of the job.

So matter how much I say I’m stupid, there’s always someone else on the streets outperforming me.

Inviting Muslims to eat pork wasn’t very smart either. Even Eddy the Chinese seller, who had rotten teeth, got a kick out of that one.

I know there a lot of people who are stupid but who think they are smart.

I just wish they would come clean, that’s all.

 

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