nah, this entry won’t be about the notion that people in serbia are among the worst and most disrespectful drivers on the planet. as me and my English bullterrier were ordinarily crossing the four-lane boulevard of liberty today - at a crosswalk we were met by those who almost ran us over on northbound as well as southbound lanes. the impatient car drivers and a truck driver were beeping their horns at us with no intention of slowing down or stopping for the crosswalk, they just zoomed by at speed.
when I came to Serbia in 2003 there was only one myth revolving around about me. nowadays, there are at least five newly created myths, one of them being the spitting one. there are people that are running in the woods where we go for a walk and I can tell that many of those that look like they are into boxing and martial arts, also unknown and nameless people to me, will spit around when they come across us two on-site. this makes me believe that many serbian sportsmen are simple black hearted thugs. I tend to think if one is doing it, they are all capable of it. and they know it is wrong but their black heart makes them do it. I owe them nothing, there is no reason to be aggressive or rude when approaching us. so what is that all about. oddly enough, it seems as if the worms made their exit and won’t go back to a can on their own.
no country can be labeled ‘free country’ when the number of unknown people is minding your business in public. back in the united states, there was this serbian black hearted guy who hated my guts and who was married into a rich, powerful and influential Jewish American family, the in-law kinship that made him feel special and above the law so he could have done despicable things. let me paint a picture here. indeed, he picked up on something bizarre that happened to me and added to it creating a powerful myth. in other words, a strange fuck up did not turn into a hush up but rather to a stupid but crippling myth originating in the serbian community in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. originally it had to do with unpaid wages to me for outsourcing overtime work at Drexel U. during the snowstorm period when I collected enormous unpaid hours that were not okayed by the guy whose initials were T.K.. nobody ever asked me to explain anything but they simply made their mind about it. the incidence gave all the black hearts a chance to kick it and mess with me creating problems at every step of way. I called that a persecution and it never stopped. about ten years later, after he divorced his American wife this guy – the top hat black heart - comes back to Serbia where he has another pool of listeners that he can influence and these are the post-communist secret service echelons and post-communist money that rules the newfangled serbia. this influence is rather huge. the newly bred myths – the lies – are unstoppable in their might, a potential for creating havoc - again. honestly, I never realized the bigger picture until recently and what has been bothering me was the fact, I have never even thought about that person – or any other black heart - for a minute but obviously my human potential was something that he has been envying all along. I cannot explain the dire happenings here or there by any other way.
Im sure that metaphorically said I have reached the end of the internet in Serbia. I finished up the game and without an immediate support Im unable to enter any other level of successful living at this or any other point in future. all I can be is merely another tool that will divert public attention for political or other reasons at the time of need. that is the only creative thing that Serbia could get out of me, or I can again serve as the punching bag for some nervous serbian thug wreck and high roller. in order to prosper more I either must leave this place at once or require an immediate support like Custer at the LBH. a w.o.o. is short yet fleeting. and finally, my word to the wise, you cannot dream about your previous lives, you can only remember them.
