My life
Then BOOM! I realized again summer was the worst season for people like with few friends. Gabriel went to work in Olympia, Kolima went back to
Vladivostok to visit his family, Juliet was too busy with her work and the only other option was kinda sadomasochistic for my spirit and for my mind . Daniel, my mentor and my bionergetics tutor. The one who helped me to loose sixty one pounds in an year, becoming thin and mentally more stable than before. I still had a lot of lacks but I got rid of most. Then others came and it was like one nail drives out another.
Suddenly I realized that I already imagined the ending . It was … well, violent. Very violent. A psychopathic ending who that could make people puke of horror . And maybe I would gain enemies that I never had like femminists,human rights associations and women organizations, plus their families,members and companions of life.
At least, this was one of the hazards imagined by my overthinking psychotic hallucinated brain. You see, when you write and your a bastard (no, not literally) with dangerous thoughts which can shock the typical moderated Western people, even if those shitheads watch things like Jersey Shore or Michael Bay-like movies. Most of the times I hide my thoughts, because to have social life you cannot be an extremist nor … well, someone simply strange. I said none of them publicly for this two reasons only, even if in reality I wanted to shout them out loud and proud with no shame or regret. But I couldn’t , because it would have meant to stay alone once again. Suddenly, my mind thought about KARMA. I strongly believed in it because it was a true thing, everything you to others or to yourself will come back directly to you. Do bad things and there’s an high chance that something horrible happen to you,do good things and something special will happen to you. Okey, it doesn’t exactly work that way, but you go the idea right ? Everything goes back, no matter what, and not in the way you or I want. It goes as it has to go. Overthinking produced in me anxiety and depression, jealousy brought bitterness , malinchony lead me into darkness and my remorse almost drove me to insanity. It’s a circle of damnation in Purgatory if you don’t how to handle it. The main cause of suicide of people in the world can be considered KARMA. Because a lot of times we found ourselves in the middle of thousands of crossroads that we don’t have time to do some critical thinking or to fully feel our emotions, and then some of us go crazy , most don’t because they found a balance to resist this aggression by the events of life. But I’m one of those that didn’t make it , a crazed 0 who was barely holding his twisted sanity in place. Because I did wrong things to me and to some other people that came back. This why I had to write the book. It was my last chance to stay in this world as a normal person. I had to wrote my this to express my thoughts , hoping that I could put ‘em back in order , because my bad Karma would have driven me insane, given me a cancer to the liver or an heart attack if it had sense of humor.
<< What should I do?>> asked my voice.
<<What have you done so far?>> replied another voice
<<Sins and nothing more.>> I said.
<<You must be kidding. We have accomplished so much. We lost weight, we gain sanity and other things. We are in the U.S now.>>
<<Talking to myself isn’t exactly a mentally sane person thing.>>
The voice in my mind stopped.
<<See? You don’t even exist in this world>>
I knew that each time that thing came out for some speech my mind would spin like a owl’s head. Even if it had some great fucking ideas sometimes . Achievements my ass, I was an owerweight ultranationalist with severe anger and control issues that has more self esteem problems than a septic worker , just like Kylo Ren. What a joke.
<<So where’s my computer ?>>
Not in the trunk of the car.
Not on my bookshelfs. Not there.
And it was on my desk all the time. Fuckin’idiot I was. I didn’t wrote a page in those days.
In the very end, nobody is responsible for his actions. Because of the sins of parents and of their parents before them, we always pay a price that make us until we aren’t always able to escape. In the origins of mankind, the father was the world the child knew (his or her tribe and village) having a more natural,reliable and less troubled growth. The role of my “father” was in the beginning my maternal grandpa, he was alway kind to me and to the others.
He maybe truly believed in what was THE PARABLE OF THE GOOD SAMARITAN and helped most people without asking anything back. I considered stupid doing so for many years, but that’s because I felt his loss until I was thirteen-like or more. I will never understand his actions of compassion, love and devotion to family. His dad seemed a little unfair to him and his brothers as my mom told me , always with a grudge and harsh reputation. And when the guy died , my grandpa took care of his family and his clan. So what he did ? He took a job as a truck driver for the
Federacija . He was a good communist and a good Christian. Until 2003, he survived that way. But after his many stresses like the imprisoment of his son (my uncle) , the debts due to the United Nations embargo and other things related, his heart was almost reduced to a jelly when they opened him up.
There’s was nothing that they could do. So they closed back his chest. And he had to wait four months before the Grim Reaper would have visited him. My
mama told me that she only wished that he had a peaceful farewell. He hadn’t this luck. Karma didn’t worked with him. Or maybe it did but I still don’t get it why it happened.
Whatever, I still miss him so much.M psychoanalist he’s the one who gave me enough masculinity to not become a forgetful fat ass faggot.
Maybe I shall see him again, when the End will come, uncovering all of us, our history,our destiny,our purpose. This os my highest hope. I don’t know if my
deda would have liked my philosophy of life I have chosen, but he didn’t have the chance to be here. I hope he’s ok in Zion at least , with Jah and with our family members who already are on the other side, waiting to live again like the other souls. Then there was the paternal
deda who was an asshole. He fought World War Two in Europe and then turned into a billionaire thanks to his trade company which delivered the reconstruction materials for the Old Continent. He spent his year travelling for business, forgetting of his three children : Vivian, Pamila (my depressed aunt and annoying bitchy aunt respectively) and Felix (my dad) who was so unlucky his parents gave his the name of their first child, who was stillborn. If ain’t that sick… However. He lived a lot of adventures before that as they have told me : he smuggled arms to the Allies in Africa, sold American cars to Japan and Europe in the ’50 and then suddenly, everything went to shit because his stupid wife wanted to go back to Socialist Croatia. He sold and lost almost everything because of that bitch who said that in Europe her shoes weren’t able to be used in the dirty road of the old continent. What a fucking
glupane . Then she died and he became a general in a fort near Zagreb moving his son and daughters there. My father studied in a military gymnasium in the the region’s capital where he finally met my
mama, they fell in love but the resistance by his family was hard because all the three assholes tried to prevent the couple to stay tightly
zajedno . The ironic thing is that my aunt Pamila always said with despise how MY MOTHER SHOULD DO TO MAKE HER MARRIAGE WORK, when my parents marriage lasted for 28 years, her marriage 7 or less (I don't remember exactly).
Then there’s my aunt Vivian who and she’s unconsciously trying to kill all four of us because her paralyzed son has been gone from the world of the living since 2011. His former husband, a greek mofo named Emmanouil Kyrastagopuolos, ran away when he discovered his first and only son would have to sit on a wheelchair for the rest of his life. Just like in the movie
300, but instead of killing your imperfect child you just leave him to die without a fatherly figure. What a shitty bastard. And I was in the modern age. Yeah right… If we were in a modern age we could smoke weed everywhere,have totally free energy, no deaths for wars,starvation and other things I don’t the time to say it right now. If you want to know, go Google it. My dad was raised in his parents’way, my
mama too and so I have been raised near the river
Dunav with a Serbian Education. My mother didn’t know everything else besides that. She was foreigner in a foreign country. Probably she would have been treated more appropriately if the breakup of Yugoslavia never happened. Croatian patriotrism became the worst kind of nationalism in the Europe after the wars. It also showed the worst in the newcomers to this world like me. When I was in kindergarten this was more the situation :
<< I can’t have him too. We have too many kids aren’t>> my kindergaten teacher, a true schmuck.
<< Sorry how many kids have like you mine ??? His father is
Croat so that makes him
građanin,citizen of this country>>
<< I didn’t understand any word of what you said>>
My mother almost gave a bitch slap to the idiot , but she resisted to stay calm and not rip off the bitch’s hair too. In her place, I would have shot her in the head with a nailgun , though.
<< Stupid
kuja>> my mother’s whisper to the bloody bitch.
The kids in there weren’t much nice either. I remember that only the other not five American kids were kind to me , the other’s where just little devilish brats. There was Juan, Mexican, they used to say his parents were by some idiots of . Jacqueline Chan. Simply called manga girl because she was just asian. Cujo. I think he was from Kosovo, but I never asked. They called him BEAST OF MOSQUE TOWN because he was Muslim . Heck, I dislike very much muslims but not him, but that was because of the wars. Anya. Polish brat with a funny face. Today’s a model I think, I jerk off about her from time to time (yeah I masturbated A LOT). Roxy, a Czech redhead. I kinda fell in love with her, she was the cutest girl in kindergaten, but she was always treated like shit because of that (I masturbated about her too). Then Rikard, hungarian. Maybe he’s goner now, because last time I saw him he was dealing with heavy monkey business stuff.
I got kicked, insulted and harassed but if I pushed or fighted back I was the bad one . Even to my father I was the one wrong. One time he said “ He must have something wrong with his head”. This is the shit you tell to your first son dad ? Seriously ? If I’m a bastard son you’ve to tell him you dickhead. My sister makes you proud you dirty sucker? Then go nail her you big dumb fucker! I hate you and you’re fucking race. Motherfucker dirty son of a bitch. How the hell I suppose to recover all the years you didn’t noticed me or let me alone in my room , without saying a word or a helping when I struggled. Always letting me down, always keeping the distance with me because honor and image meant every back to you. You think the shit that the Bible says that the son has to be forgiven by very own father ? No,it is the contrary, is the father that must ask forgiveness to the child because is the patriarch that must teach the spawn to stay put in this tiny green blue world. I watched you as a God , like Mother; you were the Supreme Connoisseur and Leader, but you disappointed many times Father, and I decided to rebel against you like Lucifer did in Heaven during the first war for Heaven. Greater than his Father just because he stood against Jah, the being who created him. I’m your Lucifer dad. Rot in hell.At the time I was a bit nervous because many things came against me at the time like issues with the law system, issues with the book I was working on and with the fucking writer’s blocks and excetera. The following day I had to go to work, even if I hadn’t much desire to. But the work had to be done because I wanted to be paid and in order to do so me and the others we needed to fix all incorrect English grama, hoping that nobody didn’t notice it wasn’t my mother tongue. I met a pal of mine, Simon Rìocàs, another cook like me half Colombian and half Armenian quiet as a shadow in the night . He spoke very little most of the times, probably because he was shy. Good homeboy after all . I never met someone like him. I went to the concert of Pigeon John in Seattle. Great street artist. 50 Cents and the G-Unit should kiss his mixed race ass . All that people . I woke up feeling the result of the concert Pigeon John in Croatia, with everybody getting high on music together at the same time in the WaMu Theater. I returned home at 4 a.m. I got so hungry after the concert that ate at McDonald’s for the first time in months ! I even took a Sundae. I must say it was the best junk meal I ever had . And before , during the concert, there was the first and biggest mosh pit I ever seen ! Everybody, boyz and gals bouncin’ and smokin’ like skeletons in
La Danse Macabre , but they weren’t sad if they were dead. After all, the dead have nothing to worry about .Nothing. Because they already passed away, that’s why. I miss high school, I miss the schoolmates , their company and the time spent together. Some were just dull asses, but after a while I got used to them, with each one having a story of their own. Some had anger issues (like me), some had “party time” , daddy issues and excetera. They weren’t all mindless assholes after all, just people with their lives . Like Rebecca, a Jewish chubby girl who strangely got laid more than me alongside with her homie Moon Delukic , the party time lass, who probably got pregnant last year , because she was drinking too much like me. She swallowed all the poisons Babylon had : alcohol, drugs, men’s cum and other evil things. Many people go tinto her pussy…especially black people . Goons love blondes. Especially if they like the ones with long hair and big boobs. And she got a pair of A’s that nobody wants to miss , especially me. I looked often to her breast, and she even smiled back when I did. I got some problems with her boyo though, a punk who looks like a horny lesbian rather than a male maggot. Then I met Saint Gabriel, this Bosnian Croat good guy that grew up like a ganger but he wasn’t a criminal. He had this tattoo of his island that he never visited, but I guess that life makes people proud even for the shit you never saw . Just like Ireland. He had a girlfriend named Francine Mellanic , a curvy blondie with short hair and genuine attitude. And truly fucking gorgeous , man. I had to admit I wanted to fuck in a moment but my mind told my dick to stay cool because I didn’t want to loose of the few homeboys I had . So I kept quiet. In the end, she was luckiest son of a drunkard I ever met. He sure didn’t lost time. He got a career doing the paratrooper for the Croatian
vojska and got married before the end of their twenties.
One day I asked him why :
<< You must be retarded to go to die fighting in the army>>
<<But I want to do it. All my family except for my parents were all soldiers or policemen>>
<<What a fucking tradition.>>
<<What ? To serve your country?>>
<<No, to fucking die for three hundred million people for don’t give a shit about you>>
He smiled and said:
<< I don’t care actually. I will do it anyway>>
<<Vato, you are just insane more than me>>
His smile wasn’t one like “UP YOUR ASS, I’M GOING TO GETTING SHOT IN THE NEXT BLOODY WAR”. It was more , “I’ve chosen my own life”. I still don’t get it why. Or a least he told me and I’m so dumb to understand someone’s reason to enlist in their country’s army.
<< How’s doin’ yo ‘ lady anyway?>>
<< Franceska is ,like always, doing great. For the first time our family will leave us alone when we
will go to the Greece>>
<< You lucky bastard. Your aya must very happy too>>
<<Indeed she is>>
<< All day sex with nobody around? Fuck me, if I had gold I would pay just to get them out of the way>>
<< Ya mate, it will be amazing>>
<< Then when you go back to Boston this summer?>>
<<Tomorrow. Ya know, I ain’t gonna waste time>>
<< Ye gonna get laid all summer!>>
<< No, Imma goin’ to make love all summer>>
<<Man , you got organized real good >>
<< Yep .>>
<< You’re one of the many who go away this summer. And FUCK, I'm going to stay here because I have no
dinars>>
<< One day I’m going to offer you s bottle of
rakja>>
<< You don’t have to.>>
<< Don’t worry mate>>
<< That’s what I’m not good at>>
<<You have to this time>>
<< I wish I could>>
<< Any news from the others ?>>
Our classmates . A bunch of misfists from the upper class of Zagreb , Bosnians scum and hoodlums of Novi Beograd and other places.
<< I had only from Tate.>>
Tateìc was a short stature smartass from Pag. It could have been a big sized doll to kick when you got pissed off of his attitude. Punk-ass wigger.
<< Erin ?>>
<<Nope , last I heard her was when the gal called me the last day of school >>
Erin was the sexiest lass I ever met in . Short stature, nice little butt , small but yet very attractive boobies and the tightest sweet pussy in leggings. She was a bit of a slutty girl that kept everything inside their panties and head , craving a very hard cock in her sacred place.
<<Heh. I miss her too. I’ve to make a confession to ya.>>
<<What?>>
<< After many year of been a loner “soldier” in my trench fighting against group of people. This year, when we went to, I felt to be a part of something. I was inside a group, not against one.>>
He didn’t look surprised. But he listened. He probably saw the first times we met that I had a one of a kind story along with some invisible scars. Gabriel, you really deserved the nickname Saint. Because you ain’t a troublemaker like me. I still don’t fully understand how he could stand me.
<<I only see now why I couldn’t geta long with the other classes. Lot of reasons that left me a loner were mine : my attitude, my reactions, my posture…>>
<<Eh. Now you see things you didn’t before. >>
We stood silent, smoking our Class A Maverick cigarettes. Silence. I remember when for me silece was unbearable. I would have preferred the eletric chair instead of the agony of the sound’s absence . Or a bullet trough the head, but guns and ammo have a cost too high for me to afford.
<< You know…>> I whispered.
<<What? >> he asked .
<<I realized that nothing has a fucking sense in this world>>
He laughed.
<<Yo’ right>>
<<So, what do you want to talk about ?>>
<< Have you seen the game ?>>
<<You mean the Red Star versus the Dynamo Kiev?>>
<<Yeah>>
<< I didn’t expect the Star to beat the asses of the Kiev’s team>>
<<Neither did I bollocks. I had to offer two beers loosing a fuckin’ bet>>
<<Wasn’t ya told me not to make bets?>>
<<Bets with money I meant. Nobody refuse to pay a pint of cup of
rakija>>
<< You should come to my home sometimes>>
<<Well, not this summer, I'm going to stay with my beloved>>
“Crap” I thought “another summer alone . Just fantastic”
I felt disappointment. Because I really hoped to spend that summer with someone special. But life’s a bitch. It only fucks with your existence mate. Going deep down on your soul.
<<You know, I’m writing a novel>>
<<Bollocks! Why din’t ya told me yet ?>> he was happily surprised
<< Well, because I still didn’t have a book before yesterday!>>
<<What’s the book about anyway?>>
<<It’s a half-biopic novel. I already put a letter of my Canadian friend in it. And a conversation I had at the brazilian sushi restaurant. I might this conversation we had in the book>>
<<Whoa man, that’s seems like you are having nast right now>>
<<What? Where did you get that catchphrase ?>>
<< I invented it right now. Seems a good line for a novel, don’t ya think so ?>>
I smiled.
<<Yeah, it is>>
We saluted each other.
<< Goodbye, you Serbian peasent >> he joked
<<Goodbye future war veteran and child murder!>>
He laughed. It was fun to see him.
<< Stop bitching and join the Army !>>
<< Maybe in another life, when I will be a Catholic fascist! >>
<<Yeah right buddy>>
He smiled one last time before we broke our eye contact.
After weeks of slow writing, I finally started chapter three. Why took me so long to just do two miserable chapter ? Well because I passed my weeks playing the PS4 or on Youtube. Or goin’ out in Seattle. There’s nothing to do in Tacoma during summer. And to finish them I hadn’t sleep for two days straight. My ideas weren’t even coming out straight , most of them blurred in the head until the vanished. I was worried I couldn’t end the book before the end of the year, I started chapter three with days of delay, besides I started another project which initially was supposed to be FREUDIAN GOTHIC but then I felt the need of something that made me feel better even if it began with the worst situation possible. A new beginning for another fictional me, the mad wolf, if he would do a mess that the shit hit the fan for real. I always thought of doing bad things to other. Especially those wronged with me, sometimes people who even did very little to me like being rude,not answering the phone and other stuff. The computer wasn’t working correctly lately and my head same thing. I had to watch a show to keep the ideas coming and not going away like anytime I exaggerate with the meds or the liquor…or both. I used those substances tho avoid the world and the feeling… like love , the consecutive pain, other tipes of sorrow and my irrational thinking. I hated to think. It lead to memories I didn’t want to remember. My mistakes and things that I thought were mistakes . All I kept thinking was that my life had been like that song of the Depeche Mode,
WRONG:
I was born with the wrong sign
In the wrong house
With the wrong ascendancy
I took the wrong road
That led to the wrong tendencies
I was in the wrong place at the wrong time
For the wrong reason and the wrong rhyme
On the wrong day of the wrong week
I used the wrong method with the wrong technique
That song suited me well. In kindergarten they said I was wrong,in middle school the said I hadn’t my head right and so all the other high schools before the third gymnasium, but when I arrived there in that particular class, surrounded by other misfits like me, I found peace among my peers for the first time. I didn’t went berzerk, I didn’t do stupid things or crazy ones. Just regular shit like the others. I the girl or the dude said he got laid, I said that I got a lady on my dick all night. Problem was, I told one too many lies and they believe it ! I wish to had the chance to tell ‘em, especially to Saint Gabriel, buti t never happened . I got stopped before. Anyway since I need to relax and I ran out of Xanax, I went to Cannabis City in Seattle to get some weed and some other stuff to… you know, chill out. I bought some White Widow . Then my mom caught in the corner , smoking it. Thank God I only rolled one blunt and I finished it before she could throw it way. She slammed the door like :
“ I don’t know what to do with you anymore” and she was right if she thought so. Most people first thought about me was how the hell I was still alive after all the shit I went through . Bad fucking luck. Went to the kitchen while tripping balls and opened the fridge.Almost empty of good stuff: no sushi, no double cheeseburger with bacon and onion or lemonade. There was still some
Ćevapi , the best dish of meat that someone can find in the Balkans. I used to like Serbian,. Still are after all. The world sells fake junk to the lowest prices for the lowest kind of people. I miss the
kibbeh and
burek or even the
churrasco during the Ana-Liza trip. There’s not one single ingredient in this shithole that doesn’t have something toxic in it. Only bio crops were truly “bio” if they would grow correctly .I had a little piece of garden dedicated to that for a while. Then my mom found out and I had to sell all that good stuff quickly as humanly possible. Bad weekend. But since dad left the house things got more quiet, we didn’t had fights or “FUCK YOU” in the family anymore. Mom and dad fought a lot because she thought that he cheated on her. The fact was, he loved her and he still does. But he was tired of answering all her obsessive questions like “where you were” “what you did” “who was that”. I would have done the same thing of course…well, I guess. I never have been in his position. Not even close.
Mama was a good person but he had some issues ; being raised by a so-called “truly” religious mother wasn’t exactly a good start, she was jealous of his husband and his children (especialy me) and she was addicted to the term family too much, the only one to believe in it : me , dad and my sister… we didn’t took it very well after a while. And I was always the opposit of them : social life, socially accepted, friends, self control and contained. I only had the last thing and I had it too much, until I went bezerk sometimes. For my last days I had the first two things but not the last two. Control. I mentally shitted on my pants when I thought about loosing control and then suddenly , in a day or two I didn’t anymore. I had no more fear of the cops, no more fear of the cops, no more fear of the big guys (exceptione made of the roid monkeys) or groups or to join them. I was a warrior , the ultimate berzerker that could charge his enemis on the battlefield, making their heads disappear in a cloud of red and grey remains. BOOM!BOOM! BOOM! Headshot! No one would have ever survived if I had a gun in my hands. But the list was too long and I was too lazy to just get off my bed or my sofa. Just kidding. In reality, I think that only few people have to pay for what they have done. Nietsche said “It is impossible to suffer without making someone pay for it; every complaint already contains revenge.” But Gandhi replied “An eye for an eye will only make the whole world blind.” Plus , I didn’t have time to dig two graves .
Enough. I don’t wanna talk about bad things.
When I got my paycheck from the horrible job I had before leaving the country, the first thing I did was to order a bunch of on Amazon, wasting half of my money in minutes. Thank God I was well paid in the end , because taxes kill more people than drugs. Death and taxes after all are the only thing certain, if we didn’t loose heath to gain money. Then that thing hitted me. Like an hammer on the chest. Fucking pain. Fucking solitude. Fucking silence. Fucking me. Fuck me that I have NOTHING to live for. NOTHING.
I had to take XANAX again to sleep that night. Goddamn insomnia. I thought “Just to keep my head away from things”. I hated to do so but group therapy wasn’t reachable in summer time. The book was still at page 23 because I went mental staying at home.The following day called Kolima for info about the Snoop Lion concert.
I will try my best to imitate his accent.
<< Zo, yu redy forr Snup Dog ?>>
<<Yeah Kolima, and you ? >>
<<
Mama say it was okay to go ?>>
Three year only that guy was in the Croatia. Lucky him, I wished I came in the Croatian two years after him, so that I could say I disliked more this shithole.
<< So do you have everything ready Kolima Mother Russia ?>>
<<
Da da , fud and strawberrie jugurt>>
<< What do you need a yogurt for ?>>
<<I like strawberry and jogurt.>>
The answer was so simple and quick that I suddenly felt a stupid.
<<I bought vodka and scotch>>
<<I dunnot drynk heavy alkoll >>
<<What kind of Siberian Russian are you if you don’t drink vodka ?>>
<<I dunnow. Ai simply drank uater and bier, if I drynk my
mama bich slap me>>
Kolima was younger than me of a year and half , yet he was physically bigger than me because he came from a fucking Russian island near Japan. He came here with the help of a oligarch son and a mobster, former friends and islanders like him. He told me once a story about another island near his. After the Soviet Union disbanded, most of the former members went thru a nightmare : the Armenian-Azerbaijani war, the Chechen Wars and then the disorders. In a city of this island hell broke loose: the male adults took their AKs and fought a deadly battle. Nobody survived, and when the news reached their families, their male children took whatever it looked that could harm or kill and they started a massacre. Kolima said that only ten males survived that bloodbath with their mothers and sisters who survived because they barricaded inside their houses. The
politsiya didn’t moved a finger because they probably would have been outnumbered and slaughtered as well.
<<Okay, are you excited to go ?>>
<<Shur, Snuup iz awesome >>
<< I was sure that you would have liked the show>>
<<Zo, what wee do nez? After de concert I mean >>
<<Well, you probably will have to sleep here ‘cause I haven’t slept since yesterday’s 3 P.M. >>
<<Okai then , I whill advais my
mama>>
He then spoke Russian for a few moments . Russian’s awesome language , I could speak it but slowly , and it was one of the few I really admired besides German , Portuguese and Jamaican Patwa , languages which I studied both by personal interest. Serbian is my mother’s tongue (even literally) with English, but with Serbian you can write poems,stories to the heart and war songs. With Serbian you can talk to all the Slavians and reach their hearts. Even if English was known worldwide and Serbian wasn’t, I still think IT WILL COMUNICATE to the East and the Balkans. You could sing the joys and the tears of all South Slavs, the people who struggled to survive and get their rightfully
Lebensraum and get back their independence when they could get it back.They fought against the violent Ottomans, the grievous Austrian-Hungarian Empire, the Nazis and then against each other because of those three. Because the installed their religions to use us as puppets. We, Serbs, are the one who truly belong to our land. We are the generations forged in the fires! I’m not so patriotic anymore kids, don’t worry.
<<So , we see each other tomorrow in
Beograd tovarishch ?>>
<< Dokie okie>>
<<No Kolima it’s “OKIE DOKIE” and don’t use it anyway. It’s-a word that only hipster yank twats and sluts use it>>
He laughed.
<<
Da da tovarishch Milos>>
We saw each other in front of the
Broz Teatar to wait for Snoop to come . There so much people before us.”Fuck” I said to myself “We should have come earlier>>
<< Ehy, wanna drink with me ? >>
<<Niet, mai mader sed I kannot drink. Plas, I drank so mach last time my
babushka could have killed me wit a slap.>>
<<Get this shit >>
<<Taste gud>>
<<Why’re putting your beer inside the strawberry yogurt bottle?!?!?>>
He spoke something in russian I didn’t catch.
<<So fuck. We are waiting so much…>>
<<Wai we came earlyerr then ?>>
<<Wanna be the firsts in line , but seems we should have come here by morning or something like that>>
<< Giast to see a Chinablek>>
<< What?>>
<<Snoop looks like Black Chinese>>
<< Kinda true. You know has a percentage of twenty-three per cent Native American blood ?>>
<<Vat ? >>
He looked surprised.
<<Yeah , the rasta has that blood in his veins>>
<<Vatever. It’s mi first concert only. I just here to rok>>
<<Like me. >>
Short pause.
<< You know Kolima, this is my third concert in a row this month. I never have been at one since the last week.>>
<< Seriously? Laik me ?>>
<<Yeah, my dad never brought me to a football match or something like that, until he wanted in the last two years, but then I didn’t want to go to a footbal match anymore.I just hate it now.I watch soccer now.>>
<<Me too. Mai favorit team is de Dinamo Moskva. Yors ?>>
<< Like a true Serbian , my team is the Red Star Belgrade>>
Except that I wasn’t a pure blood Serbian.
The masses were crawlig to get inside. All the bouncers had make a line to avoid the fans do any damage at all. We barely got inside because of some bloody wankers who couldn’t wait , not even making the cue. Fucking scumbags , they should all have died the day their mother opened her legs . All this dirty rats were roaming the streets of this shithole because of a horny dogs and some whores. What a waste of oxygen, they all should apologies to the trees and the bees. Could have been more useful to some guinea pigs than them. Kolima and I almost begun a fight because of that snatching yelling cumlickers . Why didn’t they just fuck off for real and just leave the good people in peace ? If was Adolf fucking Hitler and I had the Atom Bomb, I would have drop it everywhere there were people like them : addicts,Kosovars, Muslims , Croatians and even gypsy goons. I wished I had enough money to buy an M83 Zastava and have some madness to kill some of those motherfuckers .
<< I hope he didn’t smoked too munch pot ‘cause he can quit it anytime.>>
<<What? He ken do it?>>
<<Well, he’s Amerikan and black>>
<<Rait>>
After a while the big star came and all the crowds shaking recklessly like vermin doing the mosh pit all together. All crazy for the Lion King with the face of Charlie Brown’s dog ! Go go go ! Let’s do this !
Snoop with the mic.
<< Yo , how’s everybody doin’ here ? >>
The crowd responded.
<<Belgrade, are you smoking ?>>
Pause, people shouting.
<< C’mon guys, when I say HELL YEAH>>
The people repeated.
<<You guys scream FUCK YEAH>>
<<FUCK YEAH!>>
<< Anyone wants some… FRUIT JUICE ? >>
Fruit juice
Number one you know me can’t lose
Inna my garden me pick the fruit that me choose
Fruit juice in my glass you know me can’t lose
Take away my worry, my stress, and my blues
Higher level natural vibes are what me give dem
My princess say she love it when we ride pon rhythm
Natural berries are so very good for the system
Some tart, some sweet, you just can’t resist them
Sweetsop, neesberries, cantaloupes, soursop
Pineapple, mango, my taste buds tango
An ice cold beverage in my honeycomb hideout
Chillin’ with my beautiful empress we a standout
She sip the beet juice, said she really love the medicine
Drink it down slow feel the good vibe settling
The way the flavors going down
She ordered up another round
Tell me that she feel alright
Natural juices over Sprite
Feel the guava juice
She have a healthy appetite
No drink the red bull
Because she don’t believe the hype
Feel the guava juice
She have a healthy appetite
No drink the red bull
Because she don’t believe the hype
I liked Snoop more as the Lion than Dogg, because rap after seventeen wasn’t my first choice . Neither Eminem , which I was a big fan of him, but I got pissed off when he released new songs after waiting two years. Really ? Fuck off , I too liked the 2013 songs but after a while I got tired of them.
<< You havin’ fun Kolya?>>
He nodded with his head. He had some difficulties to let himself go, to dance. Untill that night I thought to be the only one. The Balkans and the Slavs in general have the dance in their blood, like people from Latin America.
But I got a Western sickness : shame. Everything I ever done was in front of some other the people who kept staring at me or saying I was ridiculous or something like that. Those bitches were all there . May a dog fuck them and their mother. I hope it happens. Like that horny rapist monkey that had his way with that pig in China ( crazy stuff happen there) . I saw Kolima dancing very weel naturally after a while. Like me almost. I was happy for him: it was his very first concert (I hope it haven’t be the last for him. It would be such a shame) and he reacted pretty great .He’s one of the few who I openly admitted to be a Pro-Nazi. He said I was kinda dumb to be it ‘cause Nazis killed his and my peole…He disliked the Germans only because his parents were taught to do so because his grandparents fought the war. I always wonder what if the Axis won the war. I dream it once. It was 1946 and the Third Reich won . I feel relieved by that dream, but I was so scared after witnessing that grisly beauty that I asked my mom who won the war.
She of course answered “ Yugoslavia and the Soviet Union”. Thank God. Hitler’utopia would be a dreamy reality if the Yugoslavs sided with him and weren’t targets for mass extermination like the Jews. We could have joined them if it wasn’t for that stupid king and his fucking neutral Parliament (that was my
harvatski part talking ). By I’m glad people couldn’t hear my thoughts because they wouldn’t let me into the concert for that. Snoop continued to sing reggae and rap, reggae and rap until he gave his goodbyes. The concert was great but too short. One hour show ? C’mon man you could do it better.
<<Did you have fun ?>
<<Da , Snups amazing>>
<<I already know that>>
<<Zo what wi do now ?>>
<<You wanna go get his autograph?>>
<<
Niet, too tired>>
<<Yeah, me too>>
<<Vat wi du next ?>>
<<Well , we have to get back to my car first.You hungry?>>
<<Kinda. Mekdonalds ?>>
<< Okay we go at the McDrive, fine ?>>
<<Fine>>
<< Well,get in brother>>
We take my car and we got to the McDrive for some junk. He said that he liked too much Amerikanski food knowing that ink would be probably less toxic than a meal in any mainland state.
<< You know , I already made this conversation with somebody else .>>
<<Merika fud ?>>
<< Yeah, we even talked about black people>>
<< Wat abaut the darkies ?>>
<< Well, my other friend’s just a hippy, and things that they are just people like us>>
<< In Rassya we beat up blek people>>
<<In Russia your peope beat up everyone who doesn’t have a light skin>>
<< Vel, not evrybady.>>
<<Armenians?>>
<<Sometimes.>>
<<Azeris ?>>
<<Occasionally>>
<<Georgians?>>
<<Everytime we see one>>
<<And you call me a Nazi>>
<<Datz becoze you’re a fakkin idiotka>>
<< Go to hell, you commie>>
<<Yu ferst>>
<< No thanks. I will join Club 27 but before of that time you will be dead in a gang shootout >>
<< I don’t tink dat I will join my broders grave. My
mama wuld be destroyed if I dai>>
<<My mother too. She could commit suicide if I or my sis’ die>>
<< Zo a rison to not get killed>>
<<I’m actually surprised that all the shit I have done nobody wants to kill me >>
<<I am not surprisd dat nobadi paid mi for killin’ yu>>
<< You will advise me if somebody wants me dead right ?>>
<<I giv yu free days to ran>>
<<Fuck yeah. I would be everywhere by then>>
He smiled with a soft laugh. It was a fucking good fucking night, I never felt so live with somebody. After we chew our big greasy and artificially created unhealthy burgers with that yellow vomit synthetic cheese plus the plastic salad . Kolima has always been the toughest peer I ever met . He had more luck with the gals than me and our classmates,the ladies man for the Croatian girls who emigrated from Kamchatka to Vukovar. He had a Ukranian girlfriend once, I don’t know if they’re still together. That shit that went down in Ukraine everything’s messed up there, I saw a pic with this kid holding an AK while his family carrying their things while getting into the Polish-Slovakian border and things shit hit the fan back then.
<< Zo how went woaking in de new restarant ?>>
<< You mean Calivada ?>>
<<
Da>>
<< Well, against all odds, it gained money instead of failing, against all odds and had a good reception by common folk and critics>>
<<Iz it chip too?>>
<<Yeah . But why you ask ?>>
<< Nat enaf manei>>
<< I keep forgetting sorry>>
<<No nid to>>
<< How’s goin’ that thing in the Donetsk region?>>
<<Ai shut dawn de plain>>
I laughed.
<<You sick fuck>>
<< Datz why ma girl doezn’t wuant to talk no more and angrie>>
He smiled.
<<C’mon you crazy Ruskie, you’re a gentle giant. You don’t hurt if you aren’t defending yourself or “playing fight”, like that time you almost broke me a rib >>
<<Dat wuas fan>>
<< Yeah, in a Siberian way…>>
Silence. We arrived at his home.
<< Goodnight Kolima, see ya’>>
<<Zya!>>
When he was a gone , with a soft smile on his face, I said to myself :
<< I’m going Charlie Mike >>
CHAPTER 4
THE GOLDEN HEART OF EUROPE
“Prague never lets you go… this dear little mother has sharp claws”
Franz Kafka
I chose the quote of this chapter based off my experience with my mother, Ivana. She was a little, dear and methaporically , had sharp claws. She had severe problems to let her go until I was seventeen , the time I went to the Czech Republic . She was so scared that she asked my my psychoanalyst to talked me about it . When I talked about the trip , he said that I risked to be stabbed, mugged and left naked in the streets of the Bohemian capital.
Before my brief departure from
Hrvatska for my last week of summer holiday, I was a bit nervous. It was first time alone in a country which wasn’t in the Balkans (except for Albania and Kosovo, which I hope I never have to cross the border with those gypsy
shiptars even now that I live in Stockholm. I still prefer
gulyás today ) so I asked my father for advice. Like I said above, I was sixteen. He bought the tickets, the pay up for the hostel and gave me some advice about the city (which I hadn’t much need for it since half of my friends were either brawlers, soldiers or mobsters) that he had from his collegue from …uh, how can I put it lightly ? I still don’t know what is my father’s job.
I never actually asked him openly what he was doing for living, once I almost got close to make the question. But he replied :
<< You got meals, clothes and videogames ? Well, that’s enough. You have things. Most people back in Serbia don’t have all of that. Especially the last part.>>
The only clue I got it was when he got home drunk after a party with friends and he fell on the sofa, breaking it. I tried to make his sleep comfortable and he dropped a knife, with bloody still in it. The kind of knife he had, was the one used by the SOA , the Croatian equivalent of the CIA. I put the thing back where it was and I never even dared to think to ask about his job.
Back to Prague however.
His friend Radek told him the places with the bars, the clubs and the areas to avoid in the city the area.
We went together to airport. I put my music on it and he was kind of mad because he didn’t like rap, reggae,hardcore,dubstep and Scandinavian metal. He was still stuck between the 50’s and the 80’s, when he and mama went to a Queen concert in their honeymoon in Tokyo in 1985. After a while he pressed the mute button and said :
<<My car, my rules >>
<< Fuck. >>
<< Watch your mouth >>
I sighed :
<< Yeah, ok. >>
<< Listen, I hope it will be a good voyage to you. I never had quite the chance to get out of the country before the war, except for the honeymoon with your mother>>
<< Ok… I suppose >>
<< Have fun>>
I did the check in and passed through DUTY FREE SHOP.
I entered the plane and I arrived one hour and half later. Then another thirty minutes by taxi to get to the hotel. I made all the documentation and I left my things in my room, the number 504. I went into the streets , crossing the smallest streets of PRAHA 1 . It was full of shops managed by random Vietnamese people who were descendents from the guest workers that came during the communist period and decided to stay in the country. I bought a bottle of White Widow vodka from one of those shops and still have it back in Croatia. It's still waiting for a special occasion.
When I got out, the first sight was this couple of junkies (girlfriend and boyfriend) who were walking by, and the guy was just walking with his shirt open, showing all of his scars made by knifes, bullets and torture . The girlfriend had it too, but just one kind : syringe holes. Prague was one of the cheapest places for heroin and other injectable drugs .
“Fucking hell” I thought.
After a few minutes.
I don't know why but every time I am in a new place I always check the vinyl stores and the bookstores. Maybe because dad used to make me listen to hymn of Yugoslavia along with folkloristic songs about Balkanic paganism various times, and bookstores because my mum used to get books for Christmas. Which helped in school and in some conversations with intellectual people, which, in both
Srbija and
Hrvatska , is a kind of people very rare to find.
After paying barely 900 Czech crowns for a BURZUM vynil, two Funko bobbleheads and two books : ARSLAN by M.J. Engh and the Penguin Book of Witches.
After a while I went back to the hotel and left everything in the bags. I took one thousand crowns
and went for the Chapeu Rouge. It was packed with people of my age, especially girls. I drank like five pints of dark beer and went to the dance floor. I don't know what girls in Prague eat when they were babies, but they certainly had the most beautiful bodies of Central Europe ( not that Polish and Slovak girls aren't great ! They have amazing bodies too! ).
I was drunk that I think I kissed 3 to 4 different girls that night. The last was the one I brought to the hotel. I had to give like 500 crowns to let me go upstairs with her. I had a lot of fun that night. I had more sex in that month than one year in Croatia.
Strangely, I woke up only four hours later with the girl still in the bed. I put my things in the wardrobe in order to make sure she wouldn’t take any souvenir for herself. Growing up in former Yugoslavian Republics taught me this. Girls in the Balkans start to become smart real quick and the former Warsaw Pact countries aren't that much different.
After three hours she woke up too.
The only thing she said was :
<< It was fun. Bye ! >>
It looked like one of those american movies, only in reverse.
But I didn't go to Prague to find a girlfriend either.
I went to get me some breakfast, having one of the worst hungover hunger since the indepence of Kosovo.
I had a couple of
trdlenik to end my sobbing stomach complains. It was pleased then I got back into the streets.
I soon found out people who were promoting SEGWAY TOURS, a girl approached me. Her name's was Natalya , an ethnic Russian girl from Kazakhstan. I tried to flirt with her, but turned out that she was married since since age nineteen and she was 22 now.
Never understood why some people get married so early, especially in very religious countries like Russia or Brazil ( Bento told me later that his parents married when they were both sixteen ) . What a waste.
Suddenly I met other four serbian guys who were all looking for the same thing.
WEED.
We wasted 4 hours because of a fucking
shiptar who made a us fool. He didn't fool me, as the following days I smashed my fresh of the frying pan french fries into his face. He started screaming while bits of his face turned sour red. Two local policemen came to question :
<< What the fuck is going on ?>>
<< This Albanian cunt said I owe him money when I never met this stupid monkey ! >>
<< Oh so this bastard is a gypsy? Very well then, it's gonna be this way. We put you in jail for a while, so you don't prowl on tourists for a few days a least >>
The cunt mourned :
<< I … didn't do… anything >>
I went on, soon realizing that they probably would have found the little plastic bags full of bad
ganja and he was probably going to jail for a year, if he didn't already had committed other crimes.
I smiled upon my fortune.
I spent the last hours of the day watching the starless sky without finding it boring. I went to sleep, with three good inhaled joints of White Widow down my lungs. It was such liberation, like sex, wait no, sex is far better than weed. Unless you smoke weed and then have sex.
Which is kind of a fantasy of mine . Most people want to chill when they are baking, me, I get a boner hard as a rock after a while. I never had quite the chance to satisfy this fantasy of mine : my few relationships didn't last for more than a month always ended up with me cheating on the girl.
First girl, daughter of the Indian embassador in
Beograd . I fucked her father’s secretary.
Second girl. Slovenian amateur tattoo model. I had a blowjob from her sister.
Third girl. Hungarian. I slept with her best friend.
Fourth and last girl. I shagged her aunt and her cousin.
Anyhow , I went again on again looking for a good dealer who would sell me decent stuff. I found a redhead
kike guy who appeared to be the best in PRAHA 1. He gave 20 grams for almost nothing compared to Serbian/Croatian prices.
But I didn't just wanted to get high.
I wanted to get wasted.
So I searched for one of those guys in t-shirts with Pub Crawl written on it. I followed the guys and entered the pub for free. There were no beautiful girls in there , only drunk almost anorexic or fat ones drunk too, most of which were England ( ps : I'm not saying that all Brits girls are ugly , I am huge fan of Sophie Turner, so… well I don't really have explain myself , do I ? ) One plump actually tried to flirt with me and I almost puked . I had a couple of free beers before I met a kind of an awkard, strange and funny guy , Ross Gibbson , a Scotsman :
<< Dae ye speik English? Whaur dae ye come fae ? >>
It took me some time for my grey matter to translate it, but in the end, I understood .
<< I'm from Zagreb , Croatia. Were you from ? >>
<< Ay , me an mai mate ar fae Glesgo, Scotland >>
I think that all of you can get it that Glesgo is Glasgow right ? Ok let's move on.
<< So , whatchye duin yere ? >>
<< I'm on holyday ! >>
<< An wer yer mates ? >>
<< I am by myself >>
<< Nae, rilley ? Ye ur loch a lain wolf. >>
<< Yeah , pretty much >>
<< Let's bevvy , shaa we ? >>
<< Why not ? >>
I had liters and liters what he called pint of swally mugs, czech dark beer. I didn't know how, but if I hadn't controlled myself, I would have been laying on the wooden floor like a corpse. I was starting to drinking, like really wasted how the English folks say, it didn't started in Prague , it started in that year, but not because of the Czech capital. I was a bit depressed. Still hadn't much friends ( not that I have many now, but at least they are good ) and I started to brawl with my dad , it wasn't normal fights like shouting and cursing, we did that too, only followed by kicks and punches. We didn't get along well for a long time, like that one when he discoreved that his friend son was a fag and he said that if it had been me, he would have trow my bleeding carcass into the Danube.
Jesus Christ, thank God I wasn't born a fag. He would probably do it otherwise.
By the end of the night, I forgot how many giant glasses of alcohol went down to my liver and up to my brain. The Scots started to talk about Zlatan Ibrahimovic and I said he was of Serbian ancestry and they responding “rilley ???” then I remembered that he was not only a asshole, a cunt, a childish bitch and a racist Muslim gypsy.
I hadn't chance to correct my self, I was so drunk I still don't remember how I returned to the hostel. The Scots were laying on the floor sleeping and I couldn't do much about it . I kick them a few times and they woke up like nothing happened. The cheered up and hugged me while shouting “Kretian! Kretian!” and went away. I just wanted to have breakfast and a cigarette. I went for the first bar I could find and payed the money. My fucking hangover was so hard that I barely could stand on my feet or sit in a chair without mourning of pain. I wanted a beer or a whiskey or a joint but I didn't want them either. I just went for a coffee but , unsurprisingly, their machine broke the day before . I went back to the hostel where my nose sneezed a good smell of coffee. There was this two scandinavian blondes full of life, smiles,curves , charisma and intelligence. They had more or less my age and fuck they were fucking tall!
I asked if I could have a cup of coffee and they said yes.
I remember they were from Stockholm. That was the second time I had to talk about about the Scandinavian country :
<< So where you girls come from ? >>
<< Sweden >>
<< Really ? >>
<< Yeah >>
<< Which city ? >>
<< Stockholm >>
<< Really ? >>
I had no idea where it was on the map.
<< And where are you from ? >>
<< Croatian , I'm not Croatian though...not fully at least >>
They just stayed quiet for a while.
<< Sorry for us so quiet. We are not used to talk >>
I was like the Afro-American expression “ REALLY NIGGA ?”
<< Why so ?>>
<< I don't really know… I think all Swedes don't know why>>
What the fuck ?
<< Okey … I guess >>
<< How long you will be staying here ? >>
<< Six days >>
<< Do you want to go to the disco tonight ? >>
What the hell ? That was the expression right now. I still didn't knew that Sweden was the contrary of everything.
<< Yes, where ? >>
<<
Chapeu Rouge >>
<< Ok I will be there >>
<< Great ! This is my number >>
<< Ok then, see you ! >>
I prepared myself for the night. I wanted to be adapt for the occasion, but I didn't even know if I was doing correctly or whatever. I had first and second cousins ( yeah , Ivana's family is more like a clan, where more or less everybody knows me but I don't know anyone ) who told me great and bad things about Sweden : beautiful women, great coffee, good system , islamist racist intolerance plus their high violence and rape capital of Europe.
But of course I could only verify on the internet and often, it isn't the most truthful of places, even if the thing about rape and Islamism and related violence were confirmed by many other sources which weren't the internet.
I arrived to the
Chapeu and this tall Valkyrian blondes were waiting for me . They were almost tall as me ( I felt a bit subjagated by that ) .
<< Do you wanna dance ? >>
I asked .
<< Yeah , thank you >>
Ps : I didn't know back then it was a nice thing to say to a Swedish girl “ do you wanna dance ?” .
