the target

if I had wanted to lead a life of crime I would have trained my ass up lifting weights all day every day. i would have amassed arsenal of weapons inclusive of rocket-propelled grenades and what not else. i need your attention. all I am saying is this - i am in danger in serbia as if i have been a gangster. there has been made a culture of checking and challenging me around the clock. the serbian problem is alpha males. there are no beta males in serbia, just various forms of alpha, even the small ass dudes. the planetary task issue number one should be – turning serbian alpha males into something different, into betas. that must be the planetary priority. period. I mean is it at all possible and how?

if you think serbs seem like a joy to live with i cannot even begin to describe what kind of pressure is on the guy like me who likes to have a peaceful life and live in undisturbed living conditions out here in serbia. there are people turning heads on me waiting for my glance or any other reason so they can go at me. it happens every day, it happened on terazije today where I had not been walking in ages. namely, there were several vernal serbs cocking their heads and bodies at me while passing by closely trying to provoke my reaction. anything from me so they could hook up and react on it and commence trouble; I am asking the world why do I need to be targeted like that? any suggestions? any answers by any Americans? what laws of the serbian jungle makes them think i am an easy target? it is clear to me, up until my last dying breath there wont be no freedom for me in this turn-and-cock-head culture and society pit.  

my wild guess as far as to what lies in the background of these things that are happening to me are illicit, illegal activities promoted and sponsored by the top political and police alpha structures linked to hooligans who then automatically assume I am their target. this goes by the hierarchy. the top echelons of serbian power let the lower realms of society decide what will happen to me. that is why I constantly fall into trouble. the story goes. that is why I was attacked recently; cannot comment further on it since legal process is due.

in addition, whenever serbs were a communicational bridge between me and the U.S. citizens I was automatically slandered. thence this blog. i have never had problem in direct contact with the U.S. citizens as it was always the case when the jealous tarzan speaking serbs were interfering. that seems to be the root of all problems. and you cannot talk with the aggressive alpha serbs. the only serbian arguments were always fists and I am saying the fists unlike those of Lemmy Kilmister – to make a widely known alpha comparison - who must had used them only when it was fair and logical (on presumption) unlike serbs whose behavior is nothing but criminal in most cases – and always accompanied with brute and unreasonable force (behaving as short tempered fuses) and badmouthing (slander). their friendliness is only of the utilitarian kind. remember that. sooner or later, the true respect is paid only on if-there-is-enough-dough-for-me terms.  

as a result, I was thrown way out of my league. 

i do understand my critical writing is potentially pretty dangerous, however, it is for the greater good.
i should also highlight its preventive character, not trying to sound smart nor funny, but the life here is simply unbearable.

belgrade, serbia. in survival mode all the time

do not know even how - but i stumbled upon a video of someone giving a grossly apt portrayal saying 'life here is a fucking grind; people here are cold and distant and have this weird mix of superiority complex and massive amounts of insecurity about themselves and massive emotional repression; they do their best to avoid each other.' i thought he was talking about b.S. (Belgrade, Serbia) taking them words out of my mind. but no, that pour soul grossly failed me. he does not even know HOW LUCKY he is - to have not been born in dog-eat-dog Serbia. if he was born here with dominant-(to-their-own-kind-only) serbs his problems would have most definitely escalated in logarithmic fashion and his story would have been a different one altogether. take me for example. does this guy truly think his ass does not stink? if he is good, then what would make him think those serb guys feel compassion for him and entitlement to ruin existence of someone else, be it belgrade or novi sad, as there will always be at least one asshole who will be doing crazy shit, making noises behind, spitting, etc.? my guess is - he must be on payroll for glorifying what could only be described as abnormal. or, yet, he does not know that next to suffering from insecurity - serbs also have a great inferiority complex when it comes to foreigners (this includes local minorities as well). however, there is a huge life-threatening superiority complex when it comes to their peers. and when you notice what's wrong and talk to normal people advising them like i do in my blog they will have tendency to correct themselves and become better men. it is not always the case with certain serbian people, they will fail you every time. i do trust this guy when he says that it is very gutt to be a foreigner in serbia. 'respected as foreigner' bears another dimension here. hell, det must be why i want to be foreigner in my own country. and carefully that's what i wish for. i need that namibian passport.

wishing I was in paris, france, where they’ve been waiting for me

depends. the main and only reason I want to move out from serbia is - I attract tourists. come summertime, like rats up a drain pipe so passionate and full of life swarms of foreigners forever swarm to this hopeless cesspool hoping to see me walking on water. however, to make myself available one must give all one’s got. to find me, one ought to move mountains people and cross that creaky suspended bridge all at once. tell yourself you can do anything, you cannot just come here and bounce, seeding more hurtful and demeaning times. the shit I am putting up with deserves respect. I reckon, if the God had a big enough role for me in this world he would not allow me to be born in this joint where I feel trapped like a water buffalo so I do not care and I do not come out from my den. a damn sight of murican, japanese, you name it, tourists roam all over this troubled place hoping to catch a glimpse of me. pure waste of their time, their energy, they had it coming. cos dumb as a cardboard serbian dicks are in dead man's butthole, my butthole. that’s why. much like they keep raping the 13 year old’s mind, my mind. now I am good to go and I am calling them out on it but they won’t be squaring it up. it all happens since they are assholes and Im a pushover, a poster boy for slander. plus, no soft flowers here that will bend according to my way. serbs are hard and fake, they will turn on you so quickly. they also forget, they an’t cool. Im the only exclusive one around here and I cannot care less. serbia is way too small of a country for me. in the end, the tourists go get wasted and leave disappointed cos they were not anointed. yep, rebound and pray for eternal numbing. the choices will be held freely.

definition of art through gamesmanship

the title is misleading. it's only me soppy-sodding here. there an't no bridges, no physical links.
personally - my friends - fine art, writing and music constitute a chopper flying me out of vile and dehumanizing serbian enviroment.
holding onto this white elephant, the serbian passport, is pure waste of time. alas, trying to forget serbian language so i remain monolingual. english and english only. the official language of the united states and the world.

STRAY DOGS MORE LUCKY

is it for the fact that I am a national joke or that Serbia an’t no rechtsstaat as yet the things keep happening to me.

not so long ago, someone said if you ever wanna try ćevapi go to this new belgrade joint, they are the best in town. just on that recommendation, as I was nearby, I dropped by that particular joint and ordered two ćevapi servings to go. as we ate ćevapis in my second car which has a carburetor I sensed and tasted a potent smell of gasoline (in ćevapis) so I complained to my friend who then made a statement: they are good to me. I then realized it must be that my vehicle was running rich. don’t be a sissy, I bucked up myself. however, later on, as the time progressed, it dawned on me that ćevapis – at least the ones I got - must have been sprinkled with something like barbecue charcoal lighter fluid as I got burps smelling of it late into the evening. I consumed ćevapi around 14 hours and funny thing did not get the bill and even if I got one I would not be scanning and posting it here since I just cannot believe that someone foul played me again by being negligent on purpose? there is hardly one place in town where the service was right for me and I must guess that is because I was labeled as a national traitor and persona non grata by the gung ho maverick political – should be really read: ultra-dangerous – hardliners and public opinion leaders that run political “parties” (or syndicates* if you will) here in Serbia. in addition, every blogged complaint I had made brought in tons of new customers to these places so I feel as if I created a number of serbian millionaires. following the conceptual artwork I executed representing experience at one such place there has been literally a crazy long and around the clock line now, people approving the ‘other side’ waiting for some douchie pizza. other than that, it’s 6 o’clock in the morning and I overdosed myself with liters of milk and activated charcoal pills but I can still feel strange aftertaste of naphtha or petrol in mouth and substantial visual impairment almost like a double vision. kidney or stomach discomfort I do not feel as much now, just unpredictable jitters and shivers up my spine. talking about the poor fuel economy but not kidding. and the symptoms are there: prostate discomfort, mild hallucinations, drowsiness, dizziness, substantial weakness - can’t even holler ‘up yours comrades’

murderous serbian myths

serbs truly thrive on myths. the deep-seeded one is that serbs are the oldest nation around. personally, when i take a simple walk in serbia it might be a setup for a joke or a bloodbath as I feel as if encountering not the oldest and smartest nation in the history of mankind but a lynching rabble. on every hundred of people I come across there is at least a dozen of psychopaths trying to engage me - like walking bombs ready to go off. in the broader sense, serbian problem is that some of those that propagate those myths lead the nation. they need the victims. they require human blood in order to thrive and politically survive. and when you cannot drink American soldier’s blood you got to find your readily available substitutes – domestic enemies and traitors. Gustav Le Bon had a theory that antipathy almost as soon as it is aroused is transformed into furious hatred and this is what motivates serbs.

and that is what relates me to this? but how? i do not know how the serbs chose me but surely, there an’t one country in this entire world that has an existing target person – the one that unwillingly serves as the bizarre national and public target – so everyone, the incentive inclusive to millions - is encouraged to go overboard, provoke and attack the target on the street in one humiliating ritual. that is surely the case apart from serbia and me as its dummy; the target or the serbian whore as the serbs enjoy to also view me. half an hour ago, as I was walking back home with my English bull-terrier after a walk in the park there was a group of construction workers working at the building site on the corner of prilucka and jove ilica streets. there was at least 12 of them (spread out into two groups, the latter one was taking a break nearby) there and this was half an hour ago so I remember well. as we were approaching they were waiting prepared and as we came very close they started making ear piercing noises by throwing metal poles forcefully into the van so much so that my bull-terrier got very upset and agitated; poor guy kept turning back looking at me as if asking ‘what the hell goes on’ – and the serbian guys were laughing. serbian idea of fun is a group thing - act primitive and wild and make someone very unhappy. a far cry from the stature of the oldest and smartest nation around.