• The Nutshell

    Everything you really need to know is on this page.

    I'm Dan. My hands are giant, and I'm good at what I do.

    Massage sessions with me are not boring. Modalities included are ALL of these: Deep Tissue, Swedish, Sports, Trigger Point Release, Shiatsu, Reiki, aromatherapy and Thai/Yoga-inspired stretches. We can customize to your preference, or you can just come in and go with the flow.

    I play an excellent selection of personally curated music during sessions. Feel free to see this list, which does not include Enya, by clicking RIGHT HERE.

    I've got an awesome studio on 18th Street @ Treat Street in San Francisco's Mission District.

    60 minutes — $100
    90 minutes — $120
    120 minutes — $180
    Outcalls — expensive. Ask.

    CLICK HERE TO BOOK NOW.

    Love,

    Dan
  • About Me

    Hi. I'm Dan, a Bay Area native who loves people, nature, music, and great food — especially peanut butter.

    My philosophy is that a good massage delivers a certain amount of what I call saturation, leaving a body feeling satisfactorily addressed with ample weight and no missed areas or filler. Deep tissue & detail work are ironed-out with walloping strokes from my big palms.

    My thousands of hours of massage experience include working with:
    The San Francisco Bicycle Coalition
    Wanderlust Festival
    Bhakti Fest
    The Center SF
    The O+ Festival
    The Sustainable Living Roadshow
    High Sierra Music Festival

    Phase One of my massage training was at age six, deftly working on family members.

    Phase Two was around 2007, when I synchronized massage sessions with the Pink Floyd album Dark Side of the Moon for thrilled friends.

    Phase Three got technical, with hundreds of hours of training at the San Francisco School of Massage under such wizards as Dr. Eric Rubin and Reverend Zoe Inman.

    If you see me at a party, my hands might be drawn to your shoulders.
  • Home & Office Outcalls

    HOME
    Can't move? I'll come over. Along with me come the table, sheets, oils, and music. Just make sure your place is warm enough. $180/up for 90 minute minimum session.

    OFFICE
    I've done chair and table massage at offices all over San Francisco, usually doing continuous 20- to 30-minute sessions. Employees walk away feeling relaxed and content. With larger offices, I can arrive with a team of experienced therapists. Let's talk.

    EVENT
    Add your event to this list of outfits I've worked with: Bhakti Fest, Celebrity Cruise Lines, San Francisco Bicycle Coalition, the Wanderlust Festival, The Sustainable Living Roadshow, High Sierra Music Festival.
  • Cyclists

    Ernest Michaux invented the modern bicycle pedal and cranks in 1861. The human body is similar, with joint systems like Ball & Socket (hips & shoulders), Saddle (carpometacarpal joint at base of thumb) , Ellipsoid (knees & wrists) and others.  
    Bikes and bodies both need maintenance.
     
    Swedish, Sports & Deep Tissue massage are indispensably good for cyclists.  Increased joint range of motion, increased flexibility and increased elimination of exercise waste products like lactic acid are but three benefits. These are in addition to well-known benefits like relaxation, optimal blood flow and release of happiness-creating endorphins.
     
    Big Hand Massage for Cyclists. Available in sessions of 60 minutes ($100) and 90 minutes ($120). A hybrid of several massage modalities, eminently enjoyable, and set to the sound of killer music.
     
    Members of the San Francisco Bicycle Coalition! Show your membership card for $20 OFF any 90 minute session, or $10 off any 60 minute session.
     
    Location: 3 minutes from 16th Street BART if you pedal fast.
     
  • Photos

  • What Is Reiki?

    Let's introduce Reiki with a seemingly unrelated topic: The water crystal studies of Masaru Emoto.

    Masaru set out glasses of water, each glass labeled with a different word or phrase. Then he had people pick up each glass, read its label, and then put the glass down.

    His amazing discovery was that people's emotions — their impressions from each label they read — altered the water molecules as seen later under a microscope. Here are examples:

    "Truth"

    "Thank You"

    "You Fool"

    "You Disgust Me"

    Now bearing in mind Masuro's claim that human emotion is more tangible than people tend to think, you can look at Reiki through the same lens.

    Reiki is a healing art in which the practitioner becomes a conduit for universal energy, transferring that energy from the infinite to the client's body. Universal energy is naturally in perfect balance, and these waves are drawn to areas of imbalance. Like in Masuro's water study, Reiki energy influences a client's needs — physical, mental, emotional, spiritual — by bringing them from imbalance to balance.

    Whereas massage relies of muscular force, during a Reiki session the only force is the weight of the practitioner's hands resting on the client's body via gravity. The hands stay still for minutes at a time, and the experience can be soothing and sometimes trippy. The sensations coming from the hands can range from heat to a subtle electrical current.

    My Reiki sessions are mixed with plenty of relaxing massage, giving you a well-rounded experience. Check it out on the Massage Menu.        
  • Reviews

    "AMAZING — from start to finish — I was a massage therapist for years and am critical — Daniel creates an environment that bliss’s you out and uses his very strong, large hands to do what i consider incredible. He is also a very nice person."

    "It’s a miracle. Dan has crazy good massage skills. I was totally impressed, and I came away both times times feeling great."

    "If I were stranded on a desert isle with one other person, I would choose this dude. Seriously. He’s that good. He’s got big hands and and an even bigger heart."

    "I get a weekly conventional massage, and I have tried 25 therapists, and Dan is the best I have found. He uses his size and strength to deliver long, measured moves that truly impress."

    "Dan is one in a million."

    "Dan is wonderfully skilled at finding tense spots and helping me move through them with just the right amount of pressure and stretching. I’ve been seeing him for about two years and this last massage was his best to date. He literally unwound something in my lower back that had been bothering me for weeks."

    "Freaking amazing. I got up and felt like a new person. I can’t express how awesome it was and Dan is so nice and calming"

    "One word, IDEAL. I’ve had many, many massages from too many masseurs. Dan’s is magic. I was actually fully prepared to fall asleep because of my fatigue, but instead I found myself entering more of a trance. My search is over."

    "Best massage I have ever had. Dan has an amazing nature and strong touch that brought me to another level of relaxation. Such a great experience."

    "He was able to consistently surprise me with techniques that worked. Dan is very polite, has a well executed plan, and provides an experience that is totally rejuvenating."

    "Dan is the best massage therapist in the city."
  • Music.

    Air
    Al Green
    Alan Parsons Project
    Albert King
    The Allman Brothers Band
    America
    The Band
    The Beatles
    Beck
    Belle & Sebastian
    Bhi Bhiman
    Big Bill Broonzy
    Bill Withers
    Bjork
    Blind Faith
    Blind Willie McTell
    Bob Dylan
    Bob Marley
    Booker T & the MGs
    Broken Bells
    Brothers Four
    Bryan Ferry
    Cactus
    Cake
    Camper Van Beethoven
    Chris Cornell
    Concrete Blonde
    Content Life
    Cornershop
    Cream
    Creedence Clearwater Revival
    Crosby Stills Nash & Young
    The Cure
    Daft Punk
    David Bowie
    Dax Riggs
    Deadboy & the Elephantmen
    Delaney & Bonnie & Friends
    Dengue Fever
    Devendra Banhart
    Doobie Brothers
    The Doors
    Dusty Springfield
    Eddie Money
    Eddie Vedder
    Edie Brickell & the New Bohemians
    Elton John
    Eric Clapton
    Erykah Badu
    Etta James
    Fela Kuti
    Finley Quaye
    Freddie King
    Gang of Four
    Geggy Tah
    Gentle Giant
    George Michael
    Gillian Welch
    Grateful Dead
    Greg Kihn
    Groove Theory
    Guess Who
    Guns 'n' Roses
    Hank Williams
    Heart
    The Highway QCs
    Howlin' Wolf
    Humble Pie
    Isley Brothers
    Israel IZ Kamakawiwo'ole
    It's a Beautiful Day
    Janis Joplin
    Jimi Hendrix
    JJ Cale
    John Lee Hooker
    John Scofield
    Johnny Winter
    Karen Dalton
    Kenny Rogers
    The Kinks
    Kluster Fudge
    Led Zeppelin
    Lenny Kravitz
    Leonard Cohen
    Lightnin' Hopkins
    Lou Reed
    Mad Season
    Mamas & Papas
    Marvin Gaye
    Megafaun
    Moody Blues
    Natalie Merchant
    Neil Young
    Nick Drake
    Otis Rush
    Paul Simon
    Pink Floyd
    The Police
    Robert Petway
    Robert Plant & Alison Krauss
    Roberta Flack
    Roxy Music
    Simon & Garfunkel
    Smashing Pumpkins
    The Smiths
    Sneaker Pimps
    Soundgarden
    Spoon
    Squeeze
    Statler Brothers
    Steely Dan
    Stephen Stills
    Steve Winwood
    Syd Barrett
    T-Rex
    Thievery Corporation
    Thin Lizzy
    Tommy Tucker
    Traffic
    Ween
    Willie Nelson
    Youngbloods
    Zero 7
  • Contact

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  • Ridiculous Old Travel Tales

    Europe 2008, Part 1

    Every year, 650 people in Paris are hospitalized after slipping on dog shit.

    That may or may not be the most interesting revelation I can share about Europe. I'm still unsure because I lost my little of notebook of revelations — things I write down during my days, like "Day 4, Paris, why are there so many goddamned McDonalds around here" and "Day 19, Hasselt, asked restaurant to serve me a 'regional specialty' for dessert; received two scoops of vanilla ice cream."

    Without my little notebook, how can I shed some light for you on this mysterious little country they call Europe, the dark, dank place most of the world has never heard of? I'll have to resort to using my own memory, I suppose.

    I'd love to tell you what you want to hear: The food is spectacular. The air is filled with romance. Paris makes baguettes to die for. Every church is at least 7,000 years old. And everyone who isn't zipping around on a Vespa drives a 1975 Citroen D Super. Well other than the baguette part, it's all bullshit.

    If anything could actually come close to confirming the pretty little Europe cliches in the world´s collective conscious, it would be my first night in Paris. After hauling my backpack to my friend's apartment in Maraichers, we sat in the small living room — gloriously devoid of a TV set — and spent hours, not minutes, eating dinner: baguettes with cheese. We drank red wine. We talked about all sorts of things, although -- I kid you not — the dominant sound in the room was that of a neighbor outside the window playing Klezmer music on an accordion. And as that faded away and we went to sleep, the only remaining sound was that of pigeons outside fucking. Ah, the city of romance.

    A delightful way to start my trip it was indeed, though it was followed by bitter mood swings. Matterhorn-like highs and Dead Sea-like lows, the lows making more of a lasting impression. What the fuck am I doing wandering around the planet's most expensive continent like a lost dog? Am I right in noticing that every city is exactly the same, an old church anchoring an old-town square lined with cafes and snooty, big-sunglass-wearing clientele sipping cappuchinos? Am I the only person no longer impressed by cobblestone streets? I've noticed that everyone you go, coffees and cafe lattes and such always come with a little cookie for free. Big fucking deal. And if I see another H&M store today, I just might slit my own throat.

    Time for a change of pace, maybe? Step one, stop going to big cities. Step two, get over the fact that Amsterdam seemed like Heaven for my first 24 hours there, followed by being oppressively hellatious and miserable thereafter. Step two, hop into a Volvo with three Swedish guys on an 8-day road trip through Europe.

    The Swedes: Rich the planner, Sebastian the stoner, and Jasper, who amazingly lives on a steady diet of cigarettes, cola, candy bars and the occasional slice of pizza.

    The car: An '80s-era Volvo station wagon, hand- (er, haphazardly-) painted with psychedelic flames, and aptly nicknamed "Strictly Business."

    The adventure: I could write a novel about the madness that ensued during our 8-day, 7-country spree, but I won't.

    Briefly, we started in Mesnil sous les Cotes, a little French town with a population of 100 -- the perfect antithesis of Amsterdam. We stayed with Benjamin, possibly the most perfectly stereotypical crazy French man, oozing so much charisma he could bottle and sell it.

    We continued onward. France, Switzerland, Austria, Germany, Sweden. The highlight for me would have to be bathing in Lake Geneva rather than showering. Either that or realizing that someone had siphoned all the gas out of the car's tank one night.

    I am in Sweden, right this second typing what will be the final paragraph of the email you are reading. One thing about Swedish people I can confirm: Yes, they are HOT.

    Europe 2008, Part 2

    I told you about my road trip a couple of weeks ago with the Swedes in the psychedelic Volvo. In movie terms, it was pretty much like "Euro Trip," minus any sex clubs or high speed trains — except one that almost hit us.

    I just got back from road trip number two. Nine Lithuanians, two identical hot-rodded 1978 Ford Consuls, and me.

    I'd call it "The Cast of Dazed and Confused Hot Rods Through the Set of Deliverance, but in rural Latvia."

    I still need to look up the Lithuanian translation for "you've got a real pretty mouth."

    First off — Lithuanians. If I had to describe them in one word, that one word would be Absolute Fucking Misfits. It's like I was transported back in time to high school, when Siamese Dream was the hot new album. Chain wallets, Doc Martens boots with fluorescent green laces, and black hooded sweatshirts with Anarchy symbols and patches all over them. The driver of the car I was in had a shaved head but one big dread coming out of the back -- the punk version of a mullet, the best of both worlds.

    Road Trip Day One: Within the first hour, we've already stopped for a cigarette break 6 times. It is nice to pull over and stretch, but these guys sure do smoke a lot and I wonder how long it will be before we get from Vilnius to our destination town on the Latvian coast. They've also drank about four cans of beer already — each.

    We are on a highway. I'm really enjoying myself as Bowie blares on the stereo and out the window is a floating cinema of forest, crumbling farmhouses and smoke from the tires as the driver regularly peels out to show off the Consul's muscle-car credentials. Suddenly we pull over and some talking occurs between our car and an out-of-nowhere car that was waiting on the side of the road.

    I am totally confused, but the conclusion I come to -- as we drive further and further down a dirt road through thick, uncharted forest — is that someone tipped us off and we'll be squatting for the night in an abandoned house in the forest. My first squatting experience!

    Turns out, I'm wrong. The house is a hostel in the woods. The mysterious driver works there, and drove out to the highway to meet us and lead us to the place. We spend the night sitting by the fireplace, drinking, (they) speaking a mile a minute in Lithuanian and (I) just sitting around smiling and pretend-laughing every time every one else laughs for real.

    Day Two: It's about 40 degrees out. Perfect conditions for me to take a dip in the nearby lake. Everyone looks bewildered for some reason, and nobody joins me. Ah, they must have already showered this morning, I conclude.

    It hails later in the day. We drive through dilapidated farm towns where people visibly slaughter and cut up pigs in their front yards.

    We continue the cigarette-stop-every-fifteen-minutes trend. We stop at town churches and ring the giant church bell then scamper off.

    We drink Black Balsams, a local liquor made with 100 herbs. It tastes like Fernet Branca.

    The driver does a lot of 'donuts' with his car. I thought that only happened in movies.

    Later on the second night, the driver also decides it would be amusing to drive down a dirt road with no headlights on. Within 15 seconds the car plummets off the road and into a 6-foot ditch. With the car completely on its SIDE, I wonder to myself "should I act serious right now, or can I wallow in the black delight of this situation?" I choose the latter, and everything ends up fine as all the town folk come out to help us get the old Ford back on the road. We keep the lights on from now on.

    Anyway, although it was a nonstop blast, I am beyond relieved when the road trip safely concludes at 2 AM that same night. I then spend a couple of days checking out Lithuania's jaw-dropping capital, Vilnius.

    On my final night there, I and three friends plan to eat dinner at a local brewpub famous for three things: excellent beer, a food menu serving every conceivable body part of a pig, and a steady clientele of skinheads. When we arrive, I'm delighted to find that the beer is so good it alters my perception of what beer can taste like, the menu also has chicken on it, and everyone here tonight has hair.

    Later when my friends walk me to the bus station, I'm really sad. They don't want me to leave, and I don't want to leave. Like every European city I've been to, I started out disliking Lithuania but realized I was in love with it at the end. I could easily change my bus ticket and stay another day, but I'm already past the point of no return — deciding now to stay would be anticlimactic, annoying and strangely embarassing. So I leave as scheduled.

    Before Lithuania, I was in Latvia.

    Before Latvia, I was bummed to leave Sweden, which I thought was heaven. I remember my bitter ferry ride from Stockholm to Riga on a ship called the Regina Baltica — built in the 1950s and not updated since. Every single person on the boat was clearly not Swedish. Nobody ever smiled. Everyone chain smoked cigarettes, and every square inch of the boat was the Smoking Section. It was a rude awakening. On my cheap MP3 player, I listened to the Into the Wild soundtrack as we sailed off into the frigid abyss.

    The highlight of the boat ride was when I won a music-trivia contest in the Lounge. The prize: a bar of white chocolate the size of a license plate.

    It's 7 AM right now and I didn't sleep last night, that's why I'm rambling incoherently about Baltic scowlers and white chocolate.

  • Muscle Energy Release ← back

  • Deep Tissue ← back

  • Swedish ← back

  • Yoga-inspired Stretching ← back

  • Reiki ← back

  • Trigger Point Release ← back

  • Sports ← back

  • Shiatsu ← back

    Test 1

  • 1

    CLICK HERE FIRST

    WHO, WHAT, WHERE, WHEN, WHY, HOW (including rates & contact)

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  • 2

    Rock And Roll Massage

    Air, Bowie, Cure & 100s more artists, as your quadratus laborum gets ironed out

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  • 3

    I’m a Giant!

    I'm 6'3 and can probably fit a dozen mandarin oranges in a single hand. I was born to give alarmingly-good massages

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  • 4

    Reiki

    What is this magical thing called Reiki?

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