Filming has started on Belgrade's last and greatest foray into the "willing suspension of disbelief," the epic saga under the working title of The Belgrade Waterfront. The avant-premier is scheduled for May 1, 2045, giving the publicists barely 30 years to get ready for the grand event. Half of the budget will be allocated in 2035.

None of the principle actors have arrived yet on the set, nor has the director - citing some unease about getting paid for half of it in 20 years - but the producers (Sheik Ali Xander & Associates) have so far put on a spectacle worthy of Metro Goldwyn Mayer.

My babysitter has her bags packed.

One fine day, a couple of weeks ago, I heard the announcement that if the Radicals should win the upcoming presidential elections – i.e., Smiling Tommy Nik – that she was ready to pack up and leave the country.

Hm, I told her.

What makes us want to punch each other?

This morning, leaving my home, there was a guy who wanted to take my parking space. But he decided to wait for it in such a way as I could not easily get out of it. I signaled him to move and he inched away - it was enough for me to pass but I had to do six maneuvers to get by without hitting him.

There is nothing more sobering than being pulled over for walking under the influence.

According to the brain scientists and rocket surgeons whom we have elected to public office in Belgrade ("we" being loosely applied here), it is NOT enough to switch off the music early. It is NOT enough to close the bars, cafes, and restaurants by midnight. It is NOT enough to curtail the sale of alcohol after a certain hour. Now, if we have a few too many, we will have to sleep in the bars until morning.

Did you read the Book?

The Book is not available yet. It is the subject of conjecture and wild surmise. The Book began eight years ago. The words are written. The pages, however, are as yet unassembled, unordered, and unbound. What is the Book? Who has the Book?

And will it cure my bunions?

ow, a long time ago, in beginning of the Age of Information, there lived a boy named Vook. He had a nice shiny suit of clothes, always brushed his teeth before bed, and was very proud of the things that he could say.

Everyone across the land would smile and beam when they heard him speak. He could say "no" when most folk would have said "yes." He would not just play with anyone - and he would tell them the reasons. Vook was the apple of his Papa B.'s eye. Papa B. would send him out into the world and ask him what he saw. And Vook, proud and pleased, would come back and tell him all about it.

"I am the author of this book," I told the nice man who looked Official. "Why is it in the Architecture section?"

"Oh, it says Architecture, but really it's not."
"I can see that. But people will not look for it here."
"This is Biography, Journals, and Autobiography."
"But it says Architecture."
"It says that, but it is not."

The past is in the future.

On December 23rd, my latest book, Grumpy in Belgrade: The Prehistory, will hit bookstores all across Belgrade. Impact craters from the collision are expected to form along Knez Mihailova. Please alter your routes accordingly.

The new book, which exists now in the future, is all about the past - the prehistory of my Serbian sojourn. The pieces collected in the new volume of grumpiness were written between 2002 and 2006 - just before I began posting them here on B92.

If I hear the words financial crisis again, I will most assuredly go mad.

I do not mean to downplay the significance of this "FC" (abbreviated to save my repetition). The ramifications and long term effects of the FC could be very deep and very far reaching. There is reason to be cautious. There is reason to be concerned. But we humans, sadly, are unable to measure our reactions. It is never enough to take in the news and think rationally about it. We see a splendid opportunity to panic. And we avail ourselves of it fully.

It is insidious. It is erosive. It is pervasive.

I find myself thinking in quips and quotes and bons mots. I am unable to sustain a thought for more than about three seconds before looking for new sensory inputs. I am deathly afraid that I may lose my train of thought and not even be able to finish this blog post. I might substitute a YouTube video instead. I might just encapsulate the whole thing in a three word sentence.

Facebook is slowly robbing me of my already challenged attention span.