the last laugh

could we coin another synonym for the idiom when pigs fly and what would it be?

you get answer to this if you answer my following question: will I ever be able to become the president of Serbia with this rap sheet if at the same time I need to be supported by the whole outfit just to stay afloat. at any rate, comes to think of it – if indeed I was Custer in some previous life – would not it be neat that I got the last laugh having in mind that I was exiled from the States without my wont. check my dnk in that grave for God’s sake. it may not be me.

they call them names / / the writing is on the wall // mene mene tekel upharsin

may be I am hated because they think I am a deserter. but no. I simply despise Yugoslav way of life because it cannot touch me. if I could travel back in time to participate in some historical events it would have been battles like LBH so I cannot be labeled a coward by default – I could always muse with mind of the warrior, however, I would  never re-enter anything related to Yugoslavia cos all of their battles were inflated garbage full of flaws and their commanders cannot be idols to someone who can smell dishonest posers and lowly maggots all around, local history included. i am referring to period as of the WW2. same reasons were halting me from participating with those that were not the same with me in spirit although i would ever be able to find that spirit with and in many other nations even groups of people. those that offer empathy, sympathy, collectiveness. why am I positive? I’ll tell you why – because of my nonexistent freedom in present day Serbia. I do not feel free and there was not any doggone reason for it. yes, I am paranoid, but there is a well founded foundation for my fears.  

a number of Yugoslavs (present day Serbs and in most cases the people personally unknown to me) hate and dog me and they cannot let go of. it goes that far that I cannot wear my favorite jeans because they find ways to attack in the open when they see me looking sharp; they simply cannot get over it. so all the time I must pick clothing that does not fit me to deescalate daily onslaught of many envious hostiles within the Serbian population.

today the plot has thickened, there was an old man (approx. 60 years old) in front of building at bulevar /boulevard/ oslobodjenja, I will post number and photo of that house later on, and as I was returning from late afternoon walk with my English bullterrier he swept dirt propelling it in our faces on purpose. holding a broom in his right arm he rotated his arm as if he was making a fast forehand movement and so each time the broom hit the ground the dirt and dust flew towards us; even as we were approaching. if they were not disrespectful and mean, his actions would be comical. I hope his other arm falls off. for this, I looked at him (a big house, it took us more than 20 seconds to pass by) trying to see how far that would go – but the only answer i came up with was - now I can understand why some Hungarians call the people around here names. and let me tell you – if I had done that to anyone – I would have felt dire consequences soon thereafter. some people here think they have the force to infringe upon your rights and your life. it makes you despise them. 

i cannot with certainty say where was the event unfolding at exactly; it was in front of one of these houses for sure, could be even the number 187 (where the flag is seen towards the far right), that building is not depicted here in full.

 

note:  i realized later it was in front of narodna stranka / national party headquarters

this morning / an’t no storks in Serbia

as we reached a crossroads in the heart of the forest, we took the lonely path that radiates creepiness in the hours just before dawn. I noticed anomaly in the behavior of my dog, English bullterrier, as he was interested in exploring and wandering around more than he ever was. he was off-leash and almost lost me so finally he came upon running all tensed and dropping into the state of relaxation immediately when we reunited. as we proceeded for about fifty more yards I noticed spooky sounds coming from down the trail. it appeared as if someone was hitting a tightly strung wire and firstly it sounded like a spinning whoosh. for a minute I opted whether to proceed or not but motivated by what I imagined to be a daring and courageous spirit of General GA Custer I did. I calmed myself down because it appeared to me that it must have been a ranger doing some work early on. yet as we were coming closer, I felt spookiness in the situation was intensifying and noise was becoming louder as if a timber was being chopped with a small size axe. I was still sure I was going to meet a man cutting tree in the woods. the sound was about several times louder than what the bird like woodpecker would be making and different. when we came about 15 yards away, I caught a very brief glimpse of a large white bird like a swan or stork taking off for the sky at once while breaking branches in its quick ascension as if they were small time twigs. it was producing intermittent calls as if it was in distress by being caught by surprise and the scene was so overpowering that I could have not even looked at the location we were passing - and for some reason I thought if I behave as if nothing was going on and don't look, I will keep my composure, but at the same time I was completely aware of everything and shivers are now running down my side and my upper legs when I start to immerse and think about it again. for some reason I think it is important to say that I had a white appearing close-fitting Nike training pants and that my English bullterrier was 95 percent white except for the eyepatch; and for that one brief moment there were only three white objects appearing there among the endless variations of dark gray. as if whatever it was, the being, perceived our predominant color and turned itself white, however, there are no swans nor storks in Belgrade, Serbia, anyway; not by a long shot.

P.S.: within the last month, up to 20% of all trees in the Byford’s Forest in Belgrade was cut down and I cannot refrain myself from thinking what if someone similarly reduced the Fairmount Park in Philadelphia without afforesting. was that for any recent paranormal activity? needless to say, comparing FP to BF is like comparing huge forest to a twig and BF is the only thing we have around, no other green oasis for miles.

P.S.S.: this morning prior to entering on a trail as described above I noticed a hole by a freshly cut stump, it can be seen in the photograph enclosed herewith. I wonder what was in it hidden by the tree? how many gold and silver coins were in this once-in-a-lifetime discovery?!