The oh my God this is the week Eric leaves on tour with Project Object post

Eric Slick on drums sitting in with Rock School last fall in New York at the Les Paul Tribute



And there's Eric hanging out in New York at the Hard Rock Cafe prior to the great guitar smash with fellow drummers Dave Papp and Joey Randazzo and in profile to the left of Eric so you can't really see him through his great hair is Rock School All-Star graduate guitarist Jeremy Blessing, now with the band Atlas.

So Eric leaves home on Wednesday to go on tour with Project Object and I won't see him again until May 14. Oh, the separation anxiety! But ooh ooh, go to the Project Object website link I provided above. They've updated! Click on "band" and read Eric's bio!

Anyway, I'm lying. I'll see Eric before May 14 -- I'll be in New England all weekend, attending the shows in Vermont and Massachusetts and I am so fucking psyched! And I will most likely be at the Connecticut show and definitely at the New York City and Baltimore concerts.

Opening night in Philadelphia on Wednesday is going to be amazing.

In honor of this, I felt it only right to support the music scene even further and I went CD shopping yesterday which is something alas I seldom do anymore because I too have fallen prey to downloading my music off the internet. And while I'm in confession mode, I went to Tower Records because I was right there and they had a big Sale Sign in the window. As you know, this violates my policy of never shopping at big corporations and only giving my money to mom and pop stores...but I am a weak woman.

Bad Robin!

But man, did I walk into a treasure trove. I bought stuff I didn't know existed. Well, I knew the solo Ray Davies CD Other People's Lives was out and if you don't own this, buy it immediately. It's brilliant.

Here's what else I bought:

Procul Harum Live DVD (1972, featuring Robin Trower)
Mick Abrahams - At Last
Frank Zappa/Unmitigated Audacity Bootleg
Kinks - Village Green Deluxe - 3 CDs
Thad Jones/Mel Lewis Live at Village Vanguard
Blodwyn Pig - All Said and Done - CD and DVD.

Um, and while I'm spilling my guts here, the other reason I wasn't around all weekend is that I'm writing a new erotica piece. Sigh...I know I said I was done with that and was sticking with mainstream fiction and creative non-fiction from now on but damn it, I could not resist. There were two things that happened that caused me to take the, um, plunge once again. Okay, three things.

First, the new novel I've been killing myself over. I finished a major chunk on Saturday morning and really need to take a couple of days away from it while I think over some things, such as whether flashbacks work or are too long. And um, even though it isn't even done, I had another inquiry from an agent.

No pressure there.

Secondly, my publisher for Three Days in New York City and Another Bite of the Apple, Phaze, asked if I would mind proofing a few of their new Spring "heat sheets" before they were released -- heat sheets being short erotica stories ranging from 5,000 to 12,000 words. The theme for the current heat sheets now selling at Phaze is "Surge", in which the story had to involve some sort of electricity between the sexual partners.

Third, she announced a new Heat Sheet theme - Samba. An erotic tale that takes place in South America. The best Samba stories will be published this summer.

Here's the weird thing about me. I don't read erotica. And even though I know it's my genre as a Phaze author, I still do not really consider myself an erotica writer...I write about dysfunctional contemporary relationships and naturally if your relationship is dysfunctional and contemporary it's going to include dysfunctional and/or depraved sex. But the majority of my stuff is not erotica and appears all over the web and in print in publications that are decidedly not sexual in nature.

Oh alright. I have written a few short stories that are a bit naughty. So shoot me.

But...I have never once used the word "cum". (Okay, well, I just did). Reading stories which use the word "cum" embarrasses me.

Nevertheless, I thought it only fair that I help out with proofing because my publisher is a small independent company and at one time I was fiction editor at two lit mags. So I took on a couple of these stories.

I had a revelation while reading them. Um, I got more than a little steamy. Okay, I almost lost my mind. Hey, unlike my work, everyone in the stories I read were gorgeous and perfect. No one farts during sex...everyone has simultaneous orgasms which last a hell of a lot longer than any human I know (err...hide your eyes, kiddies)(hmmm...maybe I've just found a way to keep them from reading this: YO KIDS -- YOUR PARENTS HAVE SEX! YOUR PARENTS HAVE SEX!)...and I started thinking, Hey, I want to do this. I want to write a Samba story about perfect people having perfect sex in a perfect setting in South America.

So I happily started writing and filled up five or six pages until that dangerous thing reared its head.

No, not a penis. Go wash your brain out with soap!

Conflict. I had no conflict.

There was no reason to read my story unless you wanted to just read about two incredible people having incredible sex in an incredible place.

Ha ha - yes, I know. Post it, Robin, go ahead. It won't kill you, we promise we won't make fun of you. In fact, please, please, please post it.

No.

The truth is, halfway through the story, I said the hell with this, I can't do it. I mean, my characters just had ten minute orgasms in a room filled with tropical flowers. Now what? Champagne and Beluga caviar on his yacht and she has an allergic reaction? Or -- oh no -- a real crisis -- she gets her period and he has the nerve to ask her for a blow job!

Arghhhhhh.....

But as luck would have it, I got an email from my publisher with the cover illustration she came up with for these Samba stories and, well, problem solved...let's just say our conflict now comes via one woman and two men, one of whom is wearing -- gasp -- a sombrero.

Thus, this weekend I wrote erotica again. What can I tell you. It's like my big old bag of crack. Wait. That doesn't sound right. Ha. Oh well. Whatever.

Oh, and guess what, the characters are neurotic and dysfunctional after all. I mean, come on, one of them wears a sombrero for Christ sake.

Meanwhile, there's not even a guarantee my publisher will accept my Samba. There's an open call for submissions right now and only a half dozen or so are chosen. But if nothing else, I'm having a blast writing and if she rejects it...I know! I know! I'll send it to the New Yorker! Yeah!

Sooo...Since I'm not quite finished my leetle Samba and I don't seem to be able to leave it alone...

I'm off to write.

Later,
xo