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...

tell me what u you want...

so..today i finally ha dthe time to get me a new cable for my camera so i finally can post pics again since i didnt had access to my pics during the last days,...so tell me what you wnat me to write about first...the trip to the museums island? eating at my new fav restaurant? the history fest/ carneval of cultures?..tell me what youn want first:-)

i swear i meant to blog..about the museums island (finally) as well as about food since our lovely donna asked me if i cooked something yummy lately..but..i simply didnt ha dthe time..so i ll leave you alone with the two hot covers of magazines who featured my work lately ...one essay of mine as well as one bdsm story..can u guess which cover belongs to which text??...and i ll be later back with more blogging:-)

so..actually i wanted to blog today about my trip with minisantiago1 and my cousin dirk to the museums island..but since its already late and i would have to load up a ton of pictures i took there i rather write about it tomorrow and today about my new gig at missima magazine where i write a sex-lexicon for educational use as well as a monthly column..about..you can guess it i m sure..yes..my usual subjects..sex, dating and relationship all under the aspect of the eternal questions..what do women want??? what do men want?...

so my first column isnt exactly new because it was already published in a shorter version in another magazine but this time its full length..and..what makes it a special for me..its full of quotes from such amazing writers as donna george storey, nikki magennis, midori, susie bright, kristina lloyd and a few other wonderful persons who gave me insight on their point of view when i interviewed them about the differences in female and male lust...so..the thing has a hook of course..its..in..german...sigh*...which surely makes craig happy (his german is really good!) ..but for teh rest of you i hope you have this translation funktion that jo uses when she reads my german internet stuff...:-)

http://missima.de/scarlet-skies-kolumne-danielle-de-santiago/2010/05/

hello hello turn your radio on...

i know i know..its been ages that i came here and i might have lost all my readers because i neglected them for so long...and i dont wanna bore you with stories about how sick i was...and then busy with so much work..and then i had not only mini1 but also mini2 (hurrraay) here for a while and after beeing all misserable sick and busy i m finally back here...yessss..and you..are you here too?

and since jo almost peed already her knickers because of a little story i told to her today i do wanna share it with you too...

so..today i went out to the countryside to visit my grandmother...and after tea and buisquits she unveiled the horrors to me:

grandma: oh...bunny*....i bought some of your books...

i mean wtf??? i told her..begged her!!! not to read what i write since what i write is..errrrr*..well....most of you know what kind of stories and books i write..so i asked my grandma not to read any of them since she is a total lady...so far from anything sexual as one only could be...so u can imagine how shocked i was and how uncomfortable i felt already as she went on:

grandma: and i wrote down a little list of things and words from your stories which i never have heard before..can you please explain them to me?

at this stage i couldnt blush any redder!!! but so i started to explain and already at word one she turned a bit white..at word two she was already pale and said: okay okay..i i dont want any more explanations!!!

by that time jo was already in happy histery and asked me if i conficate the books...and..well..i couldnt!!! because the books werent there..she had lend them to some of her friends!!!so i will never ever ever walk again into one of her ladies lunches without blushing like a ripe tomato...

so thats all for today...damn...i really missed that:-)

* yes...my grandma calls me bunny..and not only her but my whole family..i actually dont know why** but they all do sinc ei was a small child

** okay that was a lie...but i will not tell why they call me bunny:-)

memory lane: the nazi

a while ago i decided to start a memoir based series of posts...about random memories and imagies in my head..this wont be whole stories..because they arent whole in my head...

the nazi

ages ago...i was about the age of 7 or 8 there was a old nazi living in the town where i lived. even though he was a nazi he was very into my grandmother and always tried to speak to her even though she never even looked at him. i dont know his name anymore but i still can smell the booze in his breath, see the grey beard stubbles on his floppy, chalk-like skin and the bloody red bows under his eyes

he lived out of the town in an area were only indoor tennis courts and factories were as well as a wreckingyard. he lived in the middle of all this in a small prefab/ready to move in houses. he had set up the concrete tombstones of his two brothers in his front yard on the yellowish lawn. one day, i dont rember anymore how it has happened, he brought me there. there was no heating but a dirty old oven who burned on high power in the kitchen to give a bit of warmth. he showed me his porn first. silly and cheap porn. 70ies stuff. and a book which seemed to be an erotic novel...the title was something like "venus blossoms" (interesting that i dont rember his name but the books title) and he asked me if i already "did it"...he told me about he met hitler during the war or after..and how that was the most important moment in his life...he showed me his altar...with some kind of nazi thing a cross or something...a copy of mein kampf...(something else was there but my fluish head dont rembers today) all neatly presented on a kind of wooden bench..a island of clinic order in this messy house with all the beer cans...with the yellow plastic curtains...everything smelling smoky from the permanently between his fingers tucked cigarette..an everylasting cigarette dying his claw like splintered fingernails in nicotine yellow too...thats all i remember..that and that he wnated me to drink some beer..he often went to the bathroom...i guess i spend the whole day there but then i went away...i rember how heavy my schoolbag was...the wreckyard dog barked at me when i walked on by he went along with me, barking on his side of the fence...when i came home my legs hurted like hell from the far way back to town...and my grandmother cursed me for not coming home after school...i never told anyone that i had been there in that house...tombstones in the frontyard and also inside nothing was alive anymore..