Friday, June 14, 2013
Spending time with Mike
This piece of poetry, art and culture has yet not been published. Written 10 May 2013.
First time published 14 June 2013
Google Translate & Dictionary.com have as usual been a big help in translating.
© Winterally Olle Johansson
I came to Eilat a few days before Christmas 2004. Stayed in some strange places and met new people. I stayed in the hostel next to the French Maritime Hotel, near Red Rock Beach, for a few days. Shared room with a guy calling himself Mike. I have never been clear about whom he worked for. Israel, USA, England, France, Germany, Russia, Syria, Libya, New Zeeland, Australia or Iran?
On Christmas Day I went to the bar just 100 meters from there, where they had an Internet café. Drank a coffee and wrote a mail to some Swedish, Stockholm, corrupt newspapers, who never said anything and explained my situation, that I had been forced to flee Sweden for the 2nd time since 1993, because of suspected radioactive sabotage gaz. Mailaddress used was email@example.com. I was dying when I came to Greece and Crete, succeeded in getting a flight to Israel, where I managed to save my body. Agents poisoned the whole Red Rock beach one day and spread second hand clothes in the sand. But the writers in Stockholm didn’t take any notice and didn’t help me. On the day after Christmas God sent the Tsunami who killed hundreds of thousands of people. The bastards who chased me to Greece had tried to make me go to Thailand or India, but I made them disappointed. Some idiots think that if you are a Christian, you must suffer, they can pursue you year after year, and they control the media, nobody will know 30 years of oppression. The feminist powerghosts will make some poor little girl disappear and the media will write about it the next day. I fled the country for more than 3 years, not a word. Now everybody can imagine why this world is going to change, with or without me. Why these swindlers must disappear from power.
Mike and I shared a room for a few days. He was friendly and nice, we spoke a lot. He said he had had a company in Tel Aviv, as I remember it was in the IT branch. The business went bust, he had problems with the tax authorities. He was by that time on the run from the tax authorithies. He told me that he had been working with sophisticated tasks during military service. He had shot rockets towards “terrorists”, from long distans, watching the aim and result on a screen.
Mike was in monetary problems. His father in Tel Aviv (Jaffa) happened to call him and, even though he was well off, begging him for some money, a small loan. That bothered Mike. Of course he understood his fathers intentions. Maybe this is a way to avoid difficult people disturbing you? Instead of promising God, “sweet friends” are not getting anything from you, you just try to borrow some money from them..The greedy morons, they have surely some coins for you..
Unfortunately, I took some pictures of Mike, but later there was only one left in the camera and from long distance. How is it possible? I have a theory.
As I have said before, the mailaddress firstname.lastname@example.org was stolen when I came back to Sweden. I think it was around 2005 and it happened in the town library of Växjö.
The Arab Spring began short after I wrote that one son of Muammar Khadaffi came to look at me in a deserted place in Crete the Summer of probably 1996. I was camping outside of that little wrecked fishing village on the South Coast of Crete, Kokkinos Pyrgos. Why telling this? Khadaffi is dead, the Cold War is ended. I see no reason to keep this secret any more. There’s a small airport there, mostly fit for light aircrafts. I suppose he landed there and it’s not so far away from Benghazi. Common sense should enlighten anyone without brain damages, that wherever there is a strategic place and it has a value for military, marine actions, the place may have been damaged, you can draw the conclusion that it has been wrecked with a purpose. It doesn’t have to be wrecked, you can also study the frequency of charter tourism to a certain destination, Sardegna, Corsica. Why do you think some islands are kept away from mass charter travels? “Shut up! We want to be fuck’n idiots!”.
I lived in my little tent by the turtle beach a few weeks. Just 100 meters away in the bushes there was another guy living in a shack made with plastic sheet. I thought he was one of Khadaffis guys. He disturbed me with his presens. One day I got little drunk & furious and went there when he was not around and sabotaged his hut.
Life is wonderful. Spring is so beautiful. The colored surroundings outside are green here in my village May 2013.
The earth has whirled a few more laps around the sun since 1996 and 2004.