The Prison Called Serbia.

it’s a nice day for dying….

a few days ago, I summed up my blog contents concisely and it was reflected in the listing of its 370 titles. if taken out of context them could have driven serbs mad. oh yeah, they [the titles] did for it was a gung-ho harassment day in serbia yesterday.

lemme ask a simple question. which happened first – when I got back from america all of a sudden I went crazy and started writing bad about serbs or serbs did something to me which sparked my resistance?

well, those same powerful pockets of serbian evil engineering who had been managing driving me crazy since 2003 and setting serbian abhorrence and hostilities all along were shrieking out loud behind the same closed curtains:

let’s deal with this monster. kill him, poison him, no one should care nor feel any remorse. he is the traitor to our country.

as of early in the morning, serbs were coming at me, giving terrible looks mostly. it should have been telling enough – to be on the alert for possible danger. and when I took a seat in that one restaurant where art and antique pickers are huddling up by the kalenic fresh market I was clueless. my friend was joking with me:

drink your water, look how nice and cold are those ice cubes and that slice of lemon. it’s a nice day for dying…

I took a few sips. and another. and another. i did not feel much at first. i took quite a few sips rather. the inside of my mouth was starting getting bitter and tingling feeling began overwhelming me. the waitress that I saw there for the first time brought a small water bottle without a lid on; that they usually unscrew when they are by your table. it should have been telling too.

I drank a lot of milk yesterday trying to unposion myself. it did not help. something bitter was coming up my throat from the belly all day long. it did not ache. but the feeling of extreme bitterness and bloating was present. this morning too, I feel something is there, something very unusual. I feel terrible as if there is a problem in my stomach and that super funny feeling in my mouth connects the dots; I am without an inch of power, without a will to do anything. the only relaxation brings the thought that this is serbia – where everything is possible, and the effect is mostly negative. I always see the bad in things and people – and my current habitat is the crown jewel for such thinking. the milk cow. cos when you are in the prison you can do nothing about it, and that thought by itself has been relieving. The Prison Called Serbia.

I should have taken that into my problem equation to feel a bit better. I died a thousand deaths in this country. perhaps they all were the close calls and this one yesterday could have been the closest of them all. who knows what the consequences will be, in other words what the acid or whatever it was – does to your body?!