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About Surabaya

Last week, my buddy Dave—dumb as a stump—tried it. Said it was “spiritual,” like he’s some guru now. I told him, “You’re an idiot, Dave.” He’s lyin’ there, candles flickerin’, some chick whisperin’ about “energy flow”—I’d gag if I wasn’t so damn annoyed. “What am I doing here?” Bob Harris’d say, stuck in that weird hotel bar. That’s me, watchin’ Dave blab about his “release.” Release? From what, sanity? I hate everything.

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Finally, I get off at Margonda Raya. Man, that street is always buzzing! I’m walkin’ down, and I see this street vendor sellin’ nasi goreng. My stomach’s like, “Feed me!” So, I grab a plate. Best decision ever! Spicy, savory, just the way I like it. I’m munchin’ away, and this random cat strolls by, lookin’ at me like I owe it money. I laugh and say, “Chill, buddy, I ain’t got any fish for ya!”

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