inspirations, surfers, djerba and pretty books

did u ever notice how creative minds inspire each other? its really like that..i guess thats why arty people like to stick together and why artists colonies exist..because of the continous inspiration they give each other...

so just the other day i recieved a nice thank you note from the kind and awsomely talendet neil plakcy ...he and saachi green were the first two american editors who believed in my work and were willing to put work and time into my stories to straighten them out and polish them into something printworthy...and i m obviously very thankfull to both of them because these two anthos mean a lot to me...

so neil send me that thank-you-note ( along witha copy of the e-book) because my story "sleeping in the sand" which has been published in his anthology "surferboys" has inspired him to write his new novel "dancing with the tide" setted in djerba...

i love djerba and when i went there for the first time it seemed such a magical place for me...and i m happy that neil could see that through my story...

so..to celebrate neils new book as well as the equaly good anthology i ll post you a snipped from my story " sleeping in the sand" and hope you like it...as well as picture of my wooden surfer picture breadboard :-)
play me:



“...Wow, that was good,” said Kathy and let herself fall down on the black leather next to Gaspard.
“Do you want to dance too?” Julien asked me, still standing.
“I …yeah…well…it seems like Kathy needs a break first…and…,” I stuttered and looked over at the girl on the other side of the table.
“Yes, Kathy needs a break for sure. But I don’t!” Julien laughed and stretched his hand to me. I looked at his hand with disbelief, as though I had never seen a hand before and was for a moment unable to understand what he had said. Could that be? Did he ask me for a dance?
The first notes of Lisa Hall’s “Is This Real” came out of the speakers and encouraged Julien in what he wanted to do.
“C’mon…that’s my favorite song! Why do you Americans always have to be so complicated?” Still laughing, he grabbed my hand and pulled me up from the couch and onto the dance floor.
On the way there I almost stumbled, that’s how busy I was with telling myself that this was a dream. For a moment I stood there, as if I was planted on the ground, and looked at Julien who already had started to dance. With a quick movement he kicked those flip-flops off of his feet and started to dance in little circles around me. His hands were on my shoulders and he was so close that I could smell him again…the scent of the ocean…salt…sweat…and lust?
Well, I said to myself, if this is a dream I can do what ever I want to do, and started to dance to the rhythm of the song, slowly moving my hips. Julien was behind my back and I bowed my knees a bit when he laid his hands on my hips to bring us in sync.
Silently I lip-synched the words to the song, “And I know…yes I know…but is that real?” I was sweating and I became brave enough to rub my butt against Julien’s crotch.
I was just about to turn around as Gaspard appeared. With a single movement he pushed me aside and then gave Julian a hard push, screaming in French at him. I reached out to touch Gaspard’s shoulder when he spun around and gave me a hard slap in the face. For a moment he looked as shocked as I felt...

lurkers, roses and local eating....

so..both mwa and i tried to ..delurk??? our lurkers...i mean..i asked really really kind...in a "its past midnight take off your masks!!"-way...but no one but my faithfull blogland fellows demasked themself..i mean..you guys are so many..and i can see you..loook at the picture..u can see urself...so why not beeing nice and saying at least hellO?

anyway...from lurkers to romance... since i m still caught up in romance-writing..well trying to write romance rather fits what i m doing..anyway..what do most conect with romance? yes..roses...and since my aunt elisa collects roses and she bought a few new ones the other day which were planted yesterday i thought i join them for a drink and having alook on the new roses for all of you..et voila..roses...












so lets hop from lurkers and roses to dinner...you know that i m a fan of eating local products and support my local shops and farmers by buing their products and luckily there are a lot chnaterelle mushrooms arround lately which i m a huge fan of..usually u harvest them in autumn as far as i know but soime farmers have chanterelles which grow the whole year as it seems like..so yesterday i bought a basket of those intense smelling and wonderfull little wonders to cook pasta with princess beans and chanterelle mushrooms...

u need :
800 gramm green beans..i mix princess beans and garden beans
salt and pepper as usuall
200 gramm breakfast beacon (in dont eat that since i dont eat pork but mini loves it)
600 gramm chnaterelles
2 red onions
2 garlic cloves
penne..well..i hadnt penne so i took fettuccine which wasnt a good choice..please stick to the penne
6 spoons of oliveoil
2 sppons butter
thyme
lemon juice
a bit of cream

so..start with cleaning the beans..and cook them slowly for about 13-15 minutes..let them still have some "bite"
then start boiling water for the pasta
clean the chanterelles..but try to avoid the use of water if possible
chop the onions an dthe garlic in small pieces
piut the pasta in the boiling water and add some salt..meanhwile take the beans out of the water...
now heat the oil in a large and heavy pan ...put the bacon in until its all crisp and smells nicely...add the garlic and the onions..cook for two mor eminute swhile u stirr..put it all aside on a plate
now put some mor eoil and butte rin the pan..heat it up really high and cook the chanterelles in that strongly for about 4-6 minutes
add the time..leaves onyl please...put the onions, bacon and garlic back into the pan with the mushrooms..stirr it all...add lemonjuice...salt..pepper..a bit oregano is nice as well...you can leave it like that but if u r me (which is a lot of fun) u add some half dry white wine and some cream or creme fresh...now turn the heat down..add the beans..whisk it all..mix it just as if there is no tomorrow...take teh pasta out of the water...mix it with the beans, chnaterelles and all in a huge bowl..add fresh parmesan if you like to..but thats optional..not optional is a wonderful glas of redwine you should have along with this nice and aromatic dish...i know it dont looks good on the pic..mainly because of the misplaced fettuccine but its worth a try to cook and enjoy this tasty dish..:-)

cucumber soup anyone?

so still busy busy busy bee that i am i didnt wrote for a few days again...i m all under the pile of my work...a few more horrorstories i have tofinish, columns which are allready late, articles and erotica..even worse..romance!!! ah i can not tell u how afraid i am of writing romance..its not that i m not a romantic person...i m just afraid of romance..in real life when something romantic is done or happends..i have to be ironic or funny about it otherwise it crushs me emotionally under its heel...like back then in paris where i was with j. it was our first holiday together..and paris..you know..the city of love...what could be more romantic? while my heavy alcoohlic lover and i hastened, for j´s work, from fashion show to fashion show..from parties to bars and back..there was still a lot romance i had to avoid..pretending not to see it,..or making the moment pass by as soon as possible by turning it from romantic into hot and arroussed...until the last evening..where j. had a special surprise for me..above the roofs of the nightly paris...full moon ( will i ever be able again to write moon and not think about ms moon and her wonderfull family??) , eifeltower and the river right in view..special words and all..and there i couldnt escape anymore...j. had tricked me by turning a hot moment into a romantic moment so i was lost..okay...i said..its romantic and pretty..what? said j pretending not to hear me..AHH SHIT::ITS FUCKING ROMANTIC i screamed over the roofs...yes it is..j. nooded satiesfied...anyway...i admire writers like kristina wright and janine ashbless for beeing able to write such wonderful romantic stories...but me? so..that where i am..trying to write a romantic story and try to avoid cheesy words...

anyway...we dont live on romance alone..no..writers have to eat too and so i want to share last nights dinner with you...

cucumber soup...

i know i know..to some it sounds slimy but it isnt..i swear!
you need :

dill
6 cucumbers
300 gramm creme legere or creme fresh
400 milliliters of dry or better half dry white wine..i recoment a white bordeaux
1 liter water
instant brew after ur own taste
smoked salmon as much as u like
capers ( the small green ones) after ur own gusto
salt ( kosher salt if possible)
freshly grounded pepper ( black of course)
some butter ( i usually take salty french butter for this)
6 scallions ( i usually take more because i love them)
so...now u have to peel all the cucumbers...then cut them into two pieces and take out the wet seedy part
cut them into small pieces...the scallions as well..peel them..cut them into rings...now heat the butter quickly in a huge pot..when its all hot and liquid put the cucumbers and the scallions in..stirr them in the hot butter for about five minutes..until they look a bit "glass-like"..then add the water..the brew and the wine...stir it all..cook it for 15 minutes on the point until the cucumbers get soft...then use a hand blender and..u know..blend the liquid and the cucumbers into a smooth and perfect soup ....then add the creme fresh..the dill..whisk and stir it all...add pepper and salt...put the soup on plates or in bowls...put smoked salmon pieces and capers on top..and et voila..a tasty tasty dish u have...kids love it...i know it looks not sooo nice..but it really is..i swear!

come out come out whereever you are...

so..actually i wanted only to post about my weekend away since i went of to the city of ffm where minisantiago was awarded with..errr*. an award of course..:-) by a humanity organisations for his work (with minisantiago2) as a junior ambassador who spreads the word of childrens rights...my minis got a lot of publicity lately and so i thought its okay when i write about it here and post some pictures but...out of a sudden i feel again that i shouldnt post pics and their newspaper articles...so..we had a wonderful time away...i had afghanian food for the first time..we went to the ceremony where mini got his award (actually the awatd of both minis but number 2 couldnt be there:-(

so..that was the weekend...back here i still drown in my piles of work..and also wrestle with a mild writers block...and also come up today with a question..which is..WHO ARE YOU?





i mean..i know who my wonderfull readers, fellow bloggers and bloglandfriends are...those who are regular guests here and bless my poor lil blog with their wonderfull comments...but who are the others? since the awsome sommer marsden introduced me to "statistic software" i m finally able to see who is visiting my page and who reads me...and there are much more readers then comenteers...i think thats because each blog has his "solid" group of everyday comenteers..which appear like a gang or crowd to the other readers so it might often be intimidating and discouraging to see all these names coming back and i also still remeber back then when i surfed and lurked kristina wrights, shanna germaisn and alison tylrs blog...i mean i read them everyday on a regular base but only since last year i started comenting (which is also something i was encouraged to by kristina wright and shanna germain since both encouraged me to coment and also to blog in english)...

so i m fine with lurkers..i really am..but today curiousitiy bit me and makes me want you to tell me who you are...just who you are and where you are from...dont hide..i can see you anyway..:-)

where there is smoke..

there is fire?

sorry i didnt postet earlier again but this week just has flown by..somuch to do...as well the fact that i m away for the weekend and..gah!

so..i might have to appologize for my last post...i recived an email (the sender told me not to tell his or her name or show the email in my blog*) with the content that the post was insane, horrible and psychotic and that it put a real bad light on myself that i cut off my hair and crie over "religious" feelings and putting pics of my hairymess up on my blog...and that the person as well will never read my blog again and regrets that he or she followed me home from another blog...

so..if i have offened anyone with my last post i will say sorry for that..well sorry for offending anyone..not for what i wrote or what pics i posted because after all..its my blog yes?...and its not as i force anyone to read it...

and that post isnt(when you ask me) psychotic..its not as the world is going down..i just feel weak and...a bit stucked lately..and i question my believs...beeing sick for so long has slowwed me down a lot..and now i need to rebuild my strength.and i also need a sign..for my growing back life...

so..if anyone aside that person felt offendet..i m sorry for that...

well..for those who comnted so lovely and also wrote really kind emails: thank you a lot...because..it means a lot to me....

back with more news soon...:-)

*which is totally silly since the email didnt hold any name i knew so i actually dont even know which blogger has sent this...and honestoly..i dont care

i m not crazy just a lil bit unwell...

im in a weird place of my mind lately...the last year and this have been kinda hard for me emotional wise...i have been very sick...i have new responsibilities...i decided to write and speak about things this year i never spoke about so far..mostly because of shame and angst...i also have to finish what i begann when i published my essay "subkutan" as well as another sad-crazy-wonderful thing which will get me into trouble if i dont step into the brakes now...that all mix up with a deeper hunger i feel lately...i mean..i have always been a religious/spiritual person..i believe in..love...and much more..but love is the base my spiritually is build on...and that believe has helped me through a lot dark times in my life..has given me strength when i was down...but now...i dunno..i feel a little lost lately...i used to have this strong curiosity..that sense for everything new and intense...but lately i feel weak...i m much better now then i was byend of last year..but still..i feel like there is so much stuff i dragg on..and those emotional bags are so heavy...i know i will come back to life...but right now i dont feel much liek fighting...i dont wanna ask..i wnat answers..something to marvel about..i want a sign...something i can hold on to in my dark moments...i m not lost..but i feel like i ll be lost if i dont change my life again...let go again of bad vices and habbits which destroy my body and soul...i need something to lay my hands on...a emotional shell i can put to my ear to hear the eternal heartbeat of the world inside...and somehow...i wanna get rid of old ballast..of old lugage i m schlepping arround...because its heavy on my heart..it really is...and i dont wnat that anymore...i know i ll make it...i know i ll let go..but man, i m afraid now...right in this moment i have to swallow so hard and count to ten to keep me from vanishing and being gone...thats why i cut of my hair last night..most of you didnt know that i havent cut my hair in more in a year..well jo and shanna have known...i dont know why i did it..when i dont straight my hair its a thick curly mess...a jew-fro like we do call it...a wild, bad behaving..missbehaving jungle one could loose his hands in...its almost impossible to breathe under it...and still i didnt cut it of...i kept it...just if it symbolise whats all wrong right now...and last night..after weeks and monthes of thinking about it i took the scissors...and cut it off...cutting your own hair off by night in your bathroom..with a scissor is a scary thing...tars clouded up my eyes and when i did made the first cut i didnt cut only the first curl but the steel of the scissor also cut my hand..blood tears and curl felt into the bathroom sink...and even though i felt suddenly sick and nouseas..i kept on cutting..i cut and cut and the sink filled with my hair and the more cut of the more i could see myself again...the more i could breathe again...the more i came back to life...and today..i woke up with my light and vulnerable head...someone i really really like a lot lately emailed me "...because i m so brand new" she wrote that about herself and her own situation...and thats where i wanna go back to..to the moment long ago when i for the first time went through something like this and then felt brand new again...i ll come back to life..i ll promise...i ll come back to new adventures...i ll find things and persons to marvel on...i ll look at you...i ll love you..but you...will you be there and hold my hand when it gets hard and ugly? will u be there when i come back from the dark side of the moon?...i ll burried my hands deep in my own hair last night...and it was like the last year with all its sickness and struggle..all that old energy came off this mass of hair..and i knew..i ll be back...will u be there?

memory lane...come away with me

so..even though i m burried under a pile of work this week i headed out yesterday and made a little trip into the past...so i drove for about an hour through the first summer sun in days...i dont know why i did that...there is a urgent feeling lately to go back to places where i spent time when i was young..as well as getting back in touch with some people i didnt spoke to in about over ten years...people i so extremly miss...so i drove to this house...long ago in this mansion was some kind of artist collony...4-5 people who lived steadily there and about 5 or 6 more who were always coming and going...the house was already old by then...almost empty...furniture from the basemnet and the attic...a lot was done provisorical..but it was all clean and pretty...i used to come with my older cousin or with my oldest sister..by then i had given up painting allready and i wouldnt make any art anymore..but still i loved to be surounded by the artist friends i had...i would spent hours with laying in the garden...planting tulips and iris...sitting model...reading...picking spider webs from the candelabra in the hall...talking for hours and hours ...sitting on the roof working on my novel...with the evening and the cool evening breeze everything would slow down...we would carrie a pasting table onto the balkony...make pasta..wine...grey country bread...slices and chunks of raw fruits and vegetables...more wine...lighting candles because there usually wasnt any electricity in the house...and on we went with eating and talking...everyone was much older then i was...and it was all exiting for me...not only the creativity in this house but also its sexual tension which found its way into my novel...that summer seemed to be endless when i look backwards on it...when i flip through my diary from that time i m stunned by the ways i thought back them..what was important for me...

upstairs there was this huge room..almost like a ball room ...it had the only working fireplace aside the kitchen und high walls as well as a ceiling encrusted with broken stucco...gilbert und ceszare spend over a week painting the broken ceiling with a sky and clouds..oh so many clouds which had pink and golden edges as if the sun would go down in venice and touch the clouds with its golden burning dawning fingers...there we would sit by night...more wine...smoking..talking...kissing..touching...couples would set up...leave into other rooms...come back..leave with someone else maybe...smoking always made me tired..silent..so i would just sit there..with glowing eyes and marvel at the things arround me...i was in love with someone..but the time was complicated because i was with someone else...

it was just one summer but there is a whole life pressed between the pages of those days..in my mind i open the book of that time..and people and moments slip out between the pages like dried flowers from a diary...by the end of the summer we all left ..it was too cold in the old house without heating...strangely no oen really said goodbye...one by one left and moved on..so i did..moved away...and yesterday i came back...now immigrants do live in the house that is all whithered and broken now...i went arround it...i read the names on the mail boxes..i sneaked insid einto the stair case...heavy breathing...its wine cellar coolness welcomed me just as always..just like back then when i still was young and barefeet..skin kissed by the summer sun...a book under my arm..hair hanging sweaty into my face..on ym way to get something to drink...inside everything was dirty now..broken...the stair into the room with the painted ceiling was barraicaded and so i couldnt go there...still i could knock on the doors and count down of all the names and ghosts which are soaked into the walls of this house..sit down on the splintered stairs and remember all the feet which had went up and down them back in that summer...now its all gone...there was a round flower bed in front of the house full of roses and jasmin..gone...the tiled floor is dirty and dusty...and i was standing there..like a relict from another time...thinking of what i was teache dhere..what i had seen..what i had written there...thought of the beam in the attic where i had carved two name sinto the wood ..te amo i had whispered into the dusty summer light which came in through the dirty windows...te amo i had said when i had left the house so many years ago ....yesterday i stood there in the darkness..my mouth so dry...still..te amo i said again and left...