Self

I believe there are two kinds of people in this world: the ones who drink beers write and the ones who don’t. Most of the time, I belong to the second kind, the one who sometimes pick his nose while thinking of something to write. And when I do write, I belong to the first kind. Of the awful kind, that is.

I usually write in a state of severe delusion but always with the relentless hope to amuse the swidden farmers of the Kapuas river basin, the misunderstood hunter-gatherers of Baram upriver, or my neighbor who solely live on the dark green algae that overflows our monsoon drain.

So, if you happen to involuntarily bump into this sorry site and don’t belong to any of those groups mentioned above, then I guess you’d have to pay for this sick entertainment that’s okay too. But please be warned that some of the scribblings here may not be comprehensible to the normal english-speaking people because I do not subscribe to that tulan idea there exist a “proper english”.

In the extremely remote possibility — or in case your behavior decides to mysteriously defy all human rationale — that you locate the desire to contact me, I may sometimes be found here. I don’t usually bite.

Langkau Fiction