do what you want but dont call me a dilf...

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under the surface...

last night i met up with renata (my longterm serbian partner in crime and female sidekick) and my friend noah for a couple of drinks and discussion my new column..so we ha ddrinks and talk and a good time in general..it became late..i left..in front of the bar i stood and realisized that all taxis had been gone...so i was about to wander down the street to the next taxi stand when i heard someone call my name..i turned arround and saw a dude walking towards me i know since a couple of years..lets call him serkan..well..no thats his real name so maybe we call him just him...he is a turkish imigrant..same age as me...lives in germany since 17 years...he has barely any hair, is very tall, and has small soft and plump hands like a child...its not as if we are friends..we had a coupe of drinks on parties..we met here and there by accident and always had more or less short conversations about religion and politics...we really arent friends..not from my side of the fence...but i thought i know him...he is a very simple guy..he works in a factory...he drives a babyblue bmw which he bought from my martial arts friend...the name and number of his dojo is still printed on the side....a friend once brought me to the guys home which he shares with his parents...a cultural shock to be honest...i dont wanna go to the details of dirty old sofas in teh kitchen...golden plastic wallpapers and sized up passportpictures in golden red frames...the piles of dirty old shoes in front of the door..the brandnew huge flatscreen and the hundreds of dvds...the fact that the friend told me that "him" tends to bring sexual partners home and have sex with them in his parents bed...all that and more really..well..not scared me but seemed to be so strange and foreign for me and all this together ended in the fact that i never had any interest in becoming friends with him...also the fact of his always same good mood..i mean not good mood in the sense but..he always smiles..no matter what..always have this blank smiling face...never complains..never has a critic thought..never displays any emotion deeper then a shoe box...

so i wasnt exactly pleased last night meeting him..it was late..i wanted home..and so i told him that i m off to search a taxi..which he hold me back from and offered me a ride since he had to drive my way...in thought for a second about it and then agreed..shortly after that we arrived in ym street and i was about to leave the car when heasked me why i dont like him...i sucked some air in ...great..that wasnt the kind of conversation i was up to...anyway..i told him that its not that i dont like him but the fact that we live in two extremly different worlds and the fact that we dont have any common interests or friends which keeps us from socialicing ...his face turned dark...the blank happyness disapeared from his face...he looke dbitterly at me and said that i m an idiot..that i dont know anything about him...his hands banged down on the steering wheel in a helpless gesture...making the miniarure koran shake which dangles from the mirror...and then he started to talk..told me about his childhood..how his parents never cared for him and how his grandparents raised him in teh turkish woods..teached him how to find edible thinks in the outsides..how he was the first one to go to school in his family since four generations..how he would run there by feet and after that wait tables in a little village nearby at the age of 10....how his parents moved to germany and his father appaered who was basicly a foreigner and took him away from hsi grandparents...how he hated germany..how he tried toi runaway...how his father would beat him up and he would runaway and hide in a park...how he dropped out of german school and start working in the factory...making confiture and chocolate bread spread which he couldnt afford to buy...bringing money home to his parents who dont work..who can not read and write...how he wouldnt finde friends...how the years passed by ...how his father beat him up with a belt in the age of 27 becaus ethe neighbours ha dtold him that he had brought me and my friend to his appartment...how the years had passed him buy..how he felt all isolated...how he would have driven to a city far away..ringed someones door...went into a foreigners appartment..teared down the window decoration and trie dto jump out of the window ...how the police came and took him away...he said no one knows about that....he sobbed..his fingers clawed in the steering wheel..without looking at me he throuw up the story of his life...layed it out in front of me..one by one..a collection of bitter days and years...i was 15 when i start to loose my hair he said...17 when the rest became greyish...by 17!..a tear rolled over hsi cheek...what do you think why that is? why i look so old when i m still so young? he asked me...its stress and sorrow that makes me old! and grey haired..i thought about my grandma who never had any stress and was white by 22...i thought about explaining him the biological reasons for greying hair but then thought that i know he thinks he can not get infected with hiv because he is a man and only women and gays get that stuff..so i thought he wouldnt believe in biology anyway...he keept on staring into the night while i looked up to my own windows where the dimmed light called me home....he told me that he had moved out for a while..lived with someone far away...was happy in that relationship..happy for the first time..but then his mother started to call him..she would cry everytime they spoke ..telling him how much she would miss him..need him...that he would hav eto come home....in the end he gave in..left his happy relationship and went back into the darkness of his parents apartment....

last night he told me all this..for the first time ever he took the veil of his played happyness away...its so sad´...but yet i know it will change nothing at all...not for him..not for me...its a horrible story...but its a foreigners story..someone i dont have any conection too..we will never be friends...i have nothing true i could give him...offering him solace or friendship would be an act of mercy and be wrong...

still..it makes me think about under how many happy faces a horrible story is hidden...

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