Goodmorning my dear diary...

That dreadful alarm sound insisted. Ruthlessly penetrating my ears, brain and subconscience. Rapid eye movement, level three, two, one… off we go… Awakening.
Sunday morning, eight o’clock. Dragging my feet to the coffee machine. A last look at the bedroom before I close the door behind me. Yes… he’s still sleeping deep. I should be quite. Don’t want to spoil the picture…

Just like I love it. Strong and sweet with cream. Sissy’s coffee I know, but… In the living room paging down today’s press. Tons of advertizing literature, lifestyle magazines for the rich and famous, shopping catalogues, first victims of today’s masacre in print, right where they belong: the trush bin. I do it decissevely, as an act of resistance. What a nice way to start your day… What’s left? Half of the ten pounds weight of papers I carried back home last night. Tomorrow’s news tonight or yesterday’s news today. Whatever…

Fresh and screaming, as always. Light up my virgin cigarette, inhaling deep, sipping coffee, reading Sunday papers. What a pleasure. It’s like watching tv in print. Same quality, same stories, same people. Today’s hotties are the reports on the birds’ flu. It’s all over Europe they say… And in Greece? Yes, of course in Greece. They found a fucking dead turkey somewhere in a tiny little island by the Turkish coast. At first they said it has the virus. Then they said maybe not. Then, the fucking corpse disappeared. Then they said the bird is alive and kicking. Then they lost it again. Gimme a break man!

Finally, the poor bird –dead or alive- made headlines in Greece and overseas. The EU asked Athens to block all poultry exports from that island. Are they fucking serious? What exports? That place produces nothing, exports nothing. It’s all imported, you Brussels dickheads. Like in the rest of the country. What the heck are they talking about?

Anyways… The turkey –dead or alive- made headlines as I said. It also made heads turn and chairs squeek. Government officials (who made a mess out of a simple insident once again with their confusing and ambiguous don’t-know-what-the-fuck-to-say style) dragged their feet and as a result the Greek economy suffered another blow. Congrats paps. Good job. Loughing out loud all the way back home I guess…

What’s next… hmmm… International pages: Elections in Iraq! Yes, that’s right! “Elections in Iraq.” This is George W’s new joke of the month. Don’t ask me or any other avarage sane citizen on this planet wether I’m really convinced or not, cause you know the answer. No fucking way! I can’t even believe Condy’s eating the cake on this. The fact is that Iraqis did go to the polls and did vote for something they call constitution. Another fact is that this… constitution (ha!) serves as an one-fits-all document. Destined to fail of course as is the whole of the american campaign for the “exporting democracy project” of the new-born-Christian White House resident.

At the same time Saddam is on trial. Why don’t they hang him now and save us all from the ugly show, I wonder? Because this is what they’re gonna do eventually. Not that the bastard doesn’t deserve it. You bet he does. But on the other hand… Look who’s to decide: Puppet judges, paid by the US, protected by the US, living in Baghdad’s isolated and fenced american district. Tell me about fair trials next time honey… Let me laugh…

Eleven a.m. Dimitris is still sleeping. I lay down next to him for a moment and put my arm on his back under the covers. He’s dreaming… Is he real or I read about him in Sunday’s press? Am I just imagining things? Maybe I didn’t leave the bed at all at 8am. Maybe that turkey never really existed. Or it never had a tragic end. If I close my eyes I’d probably see it, fat and happy somewhere outside Baghdad in a cottage house that belongs to a nice guy called Saddam.

It all makes sense now. Sunday morning and I’m looking at him. Eyes soflty shut, an almost hidden smile on his face. What a nice day to start my first online diary. This blog will kill me eventually. But who cares… It won't be in the Sunday press… I hope…
See you soon…