B92 Blog

In Iceland, they have a name for it.

It is the feeling of seasonal depression when the days start getting short and nights start coming sooner. "Skamm" means short, "degi" is day, "thung" is heavy and "lyndi" means mood.

Skammdegisthunglyndi

When the umpire shouts "Play Ball!" at the beginning of the game, the players react by standing still. Nine guys waiting to bat. Nine guys standing ready in the field. A lot of standing.

The World Series of Baseball is underway between the 2008 champion Philadelphia Philies and the 26-series winning New York Yankees. And while I do not think I am the only one in Serbia to be watching the Series, the club seems to be rather small...

When people say "supposably" in a sentence, my teeth begin to grind. In the same way, every time I hear people - intelligent people, educated people, intellectual people - using the term "NATO Pact," my head starts to throb. Right there behind the eyes.

Just to be clear: it is called a "pact" because it is an agreement. It is called the Warsaw Pact because it was signed in Warsaw.

Winter clothes. Summer clothes. Bags in, bags out. Sweaters, wool trousers, heavy suits, dark colors to absorb the watery winter sunlight. T-shirts, shorts, short sleeves. And do I really need this t-shirt that I could wear for the last time in the last century? Hm...

On Friday, I will not be eating.

According to many, this might be a good practice for me every day, but I will be hungry on Friday because I just added my name to the Hunger Strike Against Hunger action set for Friday, October 16, 2009.

This is a time for considered reflection.

Given the events in Belgrade of the last couple of weeks - the seemingly random attacks, the last-minute suppression of the gay parade - it does not seem a time to speak out and be heard. We should all stop and consider what we have allowed to happen here. I had not planned on writing on this subject as it has been thoroughly talked about, but I happened to find this in my reading, which I thought might be relevant.

There is abundant evidence to support the hypothesis that I am writing to you now from Serbia. Although I do not feel under any obligation to prove to you where I am, I certainly do not feel the need for someone to tell ME where I am.

And then along comes the Tourist Organization of Serbia.

All around Belgrade this summer, billboards and posters have sprung up. They have pictures of enticing foods, they have catchy slogans luring the idle passer by to dream about voyages to exotic places. When you look closer, you see that (Hey!) it is the food you had for lunch, and (Wait!) this is advertising for Serbia!

When something is broken in my immediate surroundings, I will call The Guy to come fix it.

This means the kitchen sink, the boiler, the fuse box, the electric outlets, the washing machine, the ripped shirt, the car, the window. Anything that we touch may break or cease to function at a moment's notice, whether or not I have struck it with a sledge hammer or tried to fill it with tomato juice. At that point, there is always someone out there whose special purpose in life is to repair the damage. We call the guy.

When it gets really HOT, we turn on the fans and air-conditioners and complain about the heat, and then we book holidays at places on the seaside where it is even hotter. What we do not do, as I have just begun to appreciate, is to stay in Belgrade.

There is a mixed blessing about staying behind in the White City during August. The streets are empty if you wish to drive your car, but often there is no one waiting for you at your destination. There are fewer people in lines in the supermarket, but much of what you need to buy will not be stocked until September.

We are indeed kind and caring people. Aren't we?

We mourn the sad tragedy of the passing of Michael Jackson at ago 50. We celebrate the man who was a star from early childhood, an icon in the 1980s, the King of Pop, and we kindly and gently pass over the child molester, the depraved sociopath, the one who dangled his child out of a London hotel window, the one who attempted to surgically alter his skin color making him look like more like a live-action cartoon character than a human being.