John Wetton of King Crimson/Asia to appear with The Rock School All-Stars...and some other stuff

So this should really be cool. John Wetton is appearing with the Paul Green School of Rock Music All-Stars for four shows as follows:

Thursday March 16, 7pm
School of Rock, Downingtown

Friday March 17, 8pm
School of Rock, Bergen County

Saturday March 18, 6pm
New York Knitting Factory

Sunday March 19, 6pm
The Troc, Philadelphia

By the way, here's a group shot of Adrian Belew when he played with the Rock School All-Stars a couple weeks ago as well as a couple more on stage:








I dunno, if the Wetton shows are even half as good as the Belew shows, you are in for a hell of a treat and it's my understanding that the Troc is running a two for one special so you should check that out if you're in the Philadelphia area.

In further adventures with Google, it's hard to believe how many magazines and news agencies have picked up that crazy could-it-really-be-him Amazon blurb on my son, Eric, when he played with Carlos Alomar and the Rock School All-Stars at CBGBs in New York following the premier of the documentary, Rock School, and its subsequent soundtrack.

"This is my first on-line review and I only ventured onto the site to see if others had anything to say about this CD. I am doing it as a favour to the wonderful group I saw perform at CBGB's Wednesday night. I did not see the movie but was invited by my mates to the after party and bought the CD solely based on the music I heard. I've been a drummer with what many say is the world's greatest rock and roll band for several decades and I have to tell you, any one of those kids could fill in for my mates in the band. I understand the little lad, C.J., is the star of the movie and he is just wonderful but for me, there were three heroes that night...the singer, Maddie, the bare chested lad Jeremy, and the drummer, Eric. Maddie has the voice of an old time rocker. No stony faced, spaced out monotones for her. She roared, she was the music. Jeremy Blessing (and is that a name!) is the stuff of the Mississippi Delta combined with Jimmy Page; in fact, I'd like Jimmy to see him live the next time he's in town. I intend to write to the School of Rock for his contact information. There was soul in every note and he owned the stage. But as a drummer, for me the main attraction was Eric Slick. This is a young lad who has obviously studied the masters. He has listened to people like Buddy Rich and Max Roach I am certain, and while I am loathe to say it, I believe he has also listened to me. This kid has no peers in terms of innovation; he has a deeply personal sound and approach. He had a fixed pulse on his cymbals as well as his bass drum; and while many of the young guitar lads would falter from time to time due to what I trust was a problem with the monitors, Mr. Slick never lost a beat and was the driving force that evening. He brought tears to this old man's eyes and he is another I intend to keep my eye on for future projects. He could fill my shoes any time.

I insist you people in the States buy this CD. Don't buy it for the old geezers; buy it for the kids and learn something from them.


Yeah, that freaks me out every time I read it.

Speaking of Eric, I made a grievous error when I reported that he'd turned me on to the Arctic Monkeys. While they are the guests on Saturday Night Live tonight...and I must have heard that in the background on the television while I was typing the blogpost...they are not the band Eric and I both love, but rather, that would be Arcade Fire.

I'll let you know Sunday or Monday what I really think of the Arctic Monkeys after I see them "live". They're the ones who did all the internet promo and other weird related stuff to get famous in a deliberate, shrewd business plan on the order of the White Stripes, who, in my opinion, are the most overrated band of this millenium and while I normally adore Jon Stewart and Conan O'Brien, I've lost a bit o'respect for both of them because they are White Stripes groupies. Now come on. There isn't one Rock School All-Star or even one kid on the Rock School B team who can't play circles around those two; plus, their stage presence is just plain WEIRD. And their songwriting -- in the words of the late George Harrison..."it's been done". (and better)

So yeah, add the White Stripes to my U2 and Aerosmith list as bands which will be playing on the soundtrack in hell when I die. (You realize I do not believe in hell, but it's my standard line)

Anyway, I'm a wreck, I just sent something to a new potential agent; I'm waiting to hear from an editor regarding a story I revised for their magazine...arghh...and I continue to plug away at the new novel with my fingers crossed that I know what the hell I'm doing. Plus, I'd entered my Neil Gaiman essay in a contest and the judges just announced they've extended the deadline by one month. This tells me one of two things. Either they hate every single essay they've received so far (and that of course would include mine), or, only two people entered and they have a grand total of $26.00 prize money. Either/or, it doesn't look good, huh.

What the hell, I'll try and be optimistic. I mean, what other choice do I have? Well, except for the dreaded simul-subbing...

One final note on writing: Here is the absolute best list I've stumbled on yet as concerns places for writers to submit: The Big Ass List of Pubs.

And on a private, personal note: I love you, Dan. I've been devastated that you think otherwise. I play around a lot in this blog and sometimes joking doesn't translate well on line. I love all Rock School kids, but especially those with whom I've had the pleasure of touring and seeing in concert with my kids. I think you all are the most amazing group of human beings I've ever met. But yeah, I admit when it comes to Julie and Eric, I can be, um, a little over-sensitive and protective even though they're both bigger, smarter, and more mature than I am. But I'm working on it, I'm working on it.

Later,
xo

Robin Slick and Neil Gaiman - together again at last

Ha ha - so here is our official portrait. I can thank David Niall Wilson for his photoshop skills and the fact that despite being a brilliant, respected writer, he has a nine to five job working for the government and therefore has plenty of time on his hands during the day.

Here we are taking a stroll on the beach. Neil is obviously cold blooded (he's really bundled up, isn't he?) while I on the other hand am always hot...


Err...is it just me or does Neil have three arms? Woo hoo - I like those possibilities.

Actually, in case you are reading this blog today for the first time, you need to know that I have a running joke here that I'm in lust with Neil Gaiman and in the comments section of yesterday's blog post, David Niall Wilson and I giggled back and forth about the various uses of photoshop after he presented me with a photo of yours truly and the evil, ugly Kenny Chesney. David was then kind enough to make it up to me by sending me Neil and Robin photos.

And the reason I'm messing around here now is that I really needed a laugh. I know I have a very cool, interesting life but every once in a while, reality rears its head and my said life is far from perfect so I figured I'd use this forum to let off a little steam by having some fun with these pics.

Oh crap, here's Neil with my decapitated head in his backpack as a result of spending a couple of hours listening to me babble non-stop during our walk.



Oh nooo...I bet he's going to bury it in the snow among all those trees where no one will ever find me.

And to think - a mere few hours ago we were out frolicking in the sunshine.

Sigh...I'll never learn to shut up, will I.

Neil, you could have just stuck a gag in my mouth. (Oh right, I might have liked that.)

Anyway, as you can tell, my legs and torso made it home okay, but did you ever try and get dressed while missing your head? I'm guessing a turtleneck sweater is out of the question today.

Oh well. I'll be back. I'm going out in search of a new brain -- I'm thinking I'll take Lorrie Moore's -- and for a head...hmmm...Catherine Zeta Jones? Catherine is gonna be pissed as hell to find herself stuck with my out of shape body, but trust me, Lorrie Moore will bitch slap her if she puts up a fuss.

Ha.

Ack, in reality it's back to writing/revising my new novel and struggling with self-doubt.

The usual.

Later,
xo

Extra, Extra, Read All About It, The Pinball Wizard Has a Miracle Cure...nah...more like, further adventures with Google, etc.

Eric Slick behind the drums at NAMM, January, 2006

Yay! Project Object is in the process of updating their website and Eric Slick is now on the front page! And if you click on "tour dates" there are links to buy tickets to many of the upcoming shows.

So yesterday was way cool -- my blog was mentioned on DGM Live and I ended up meeting all of these really interesting fellow music lovers from literally all over the world who've e-mailed me regarding Adrian Belew and his recent stint with Rock School.

Somehow while corresponding with all of these people I was given this link and if you are a music nut like I am, this will be a fun blog for you to visit daily.

Speaking of blogs, I am a member of a lit blog which is both different and weird so naturally I signed up. Apparently today I'm featured in a little game they play from time to time. I haven't really gotten into using the site to its fullest potential yet but if you are a writer, check it out because you may want to join the site. If you are merely one of my bored readers, at least click on the link and play. Apparently you get to move a photo of my head around but whether you win a prize for turning me into Angelina Jolie or something I can't tell you. Hey, tell you what, if you figure it out, email me and let ME know because I'm too ADD this morning to play myself.

Further adventures on Google: I see Three Days in New York City is being sold on a Christianity website under "religion and spirituality". Ha! That's my first real smile of the day. Should I send them an excerpt from the first chapter? Maybe this one?

"I want you to unpack and show me each item you've brought."

Okay, this is hot but as I'm kneeling down I agonize that my naked ass looks like curds of cottage cheese above the black, sheer thigh high stockings, and even though I've consumed like only two egg whites and four lettuce leafs in the six weeks since we planned this trip, my body gave birth to two children and my stomach will never be flat again. So I try to suck in my gut, keep my balance, and be a sexy game show model all at the same time while I remove each item for his inspection and approval.

Out come the handcuffs, so normal and pedestrian, he immediately tosses them aside. The silk blindfold causes him to smile. But when I hand him the crop, he laughs out loud.

"What the bloody hell is this? A toy for children?"

I think of the more elaborate whips in the sex shop. Hard leather with spikes -- just seeing them caused me apprehension. I bought the beginner model made of leather so soft it felt like velvet. It's short with several hanging suede laces – kind of looks like a horse's tail. Actually, in his hands right now it looks more like a limp dick.

"I'm sorry," I mumble.

"Elizabeth, you coward," he laughs. He starts tickling my naked back with it, running it up and down. "Show me what else you have in that bag."

He continues to lightly run the crop back and forth, up and down, teasing my neck, my shoulders, both arms; and then I show him the nipple clamps. His face brightens when he sees them and he puts down the crop, but not before smacking me with it hard on the ass. Ha! It doesn't hurt at all. Good for me and my wimpishness!

He rips off the packaging and I shiver when I see those screws.

"Stay on your knees," he says, climbing up on the bed and sitting facing me. He attempts to apply the clamps. Yow! This is pain, too, but I think I can handle it -- when he bit me that hurt a lot worse. But the crystal hearts are heavy -- they won't stay on.

"I don't think your tits are right for these," he complains.

Yeah, well, what I want to know is, whose are?"

Ha ha - if you want to read more, you can order Three Days in New York City by clicking on the Amazon link on the right hand side of this blog or get yourself an autographed copy off the Phaze site here. In case you want, um, instant gratification, you can also order the digital version of this book off of my publisher's site right here.

I was not, however, amused to see the following when I googled my name:

Slick Breast, Horny blonde babe showing all her pink goodness!

or even worse --

OFFICIAL KENNY CHESNEY FAN CLUB
Robin Slick: In Her Own Write: April 2005

Oh my god, how appalling is that! Trust me, I never have been or will be a Kenny Chesney fan let alone be in his fucking fan club! (I'd much rather be a horny blonde babe showing all her pink goodness ha ha ha)

In other news, I obviously use blogspot as my "server" here...and too funny, when you go to www.blogger.com, which is the dashboard for this blog, they always have a little list on the right hand side "Blogs We've Noticed Lately"...and oh god, they actually list Neil Gaiman today. C'mon guys, gimme a break. You're just noticing his blog? He gets probably 100,000 hits a day already...you're gonna crash his server and make all of his daily readers cry.

But okay, I admit it: My goal is to some day be on that "Blogs We've Noticed" list.

(Though not for being a member of the official Kenny Chesney fan club I hope)

I'm sure I have more news -- I do have more news -- but both kiddies are out of the house early today and I've fallen behind on my writing, so I really need to go upstairs with my pen and journal and get the hell off line!

Later...
xo

Odds and Sods for Tuesday, March 7

A couple more photos of my daughter, Julie, playing bass on City of Tiny Lights with Adrian Belew at the Knitting Factory in NY Sunday night...alas you cannot see son Eric on the drums...but here he is in a pretty bad shot where I totally cut off Paul's head and show Julie and Julia from behind...sorry...hey, I'm a writer, not a photographer!



Two things I just heard on the news I that made me giggle...sort of...

Yanni, that new age musical wonder (snort), was arrested for verbally abusing and then hitting his girlfriend; (I'm not laughing that he did this or making light of the crime itself, mind you, I'm laughing that it's "Yanni")

Madonna's daughter just saw the video clip where she kissed Britney Spears at the MTV Awards...or was it the Grammys...all crap, I get them confused...and asked her mother "Are you gay?" And Madonna replied "I am the mommy pop star and she is the baby pop star and I am kissing her to pass my energy on to her".

Yes, I just heard this on CNN so it must be true.

I will now puke up my breakfast.

My photos and blurb here about Adrian Belew made it on to DGM Live this morning -- and it turns out I was linked by a very cool guy. Wait until Eric wakes up and reads his creds and his blogposts...I just had a most enjoyable time doing that very thing.

Eric is still pretty freaked out about meeting Adrian. I mean, Adrian has only played with Eric's idols - Bill Bruford, Terry Bozzio, and Danny Carey. So can you imagine what this feels like for a drummer barely nineteen years old?

I want my son's life. By the way, his tour with Project Object is just about set give or take a couple weeks in May so here's where he'll be starting April 12:

Project/Object - The Music Of Frank Zappa Apr-May 06 Special Guest: IKE WILLIS

April
12 Philadelphia, PA World Café W/SCHOOL OF ROCK ALLSTARS!!
13 Sayreville, NJ Starland Ballroom w/ MAHAVISHNU PROJECT!
14 Albany, NY Valentine's
15 Burlington, VT Higher Ground
16 Northampton, MA Iron Horse Music Hall
17 Providence, RI The Century
18 Boston, MA Harpers Ferry
19 New Haven, CT Toad's
20 OFF
21 Cleveland, OH Beachland Ballroom
22 Chicago Martyrs
23 St. Louis, MO Cicero's
24 Detroit, MI Magic Bag
25 Cincinnati Poison Room
26 Milwaukee, WI Shank Hall
27 Louisville, KY Headliners
28 Asheville, NC Stella Blue
29 Atlanta, GA 5 Spot

May
7 New York, NY BB King's Blues

Like I said, I am going to hit as many as these cities as I can...really looking forward to it. Eric isn't listed as their new drummer on their actual front web page yet but if you click on "news" on the left hand side and and scroll down to their post of February 4, 2006, you'll be able to read all about him.

So the moment you've all been waiting for -- my capsule review of Neil Gaiman's MirrorMask. Actually, I'm lazy and admittedly no movie critic so I'll just copy my remark in the comments section to Susan Henderson:

"I know I'm prejudiced, but I had the best time watching MirrorMask today. Since fantasy isn't my usual genre I have nothing to compare it with so I absolutely adored it and thought it was incredibly creative - both the writing and the film itself."

So that's my thumbs up for what it's worth. I see it's coming to Comcast pay per view March 31 in case you don't get around to scoring the DVD.

Speaking of Susan by the way, click on the link and read her compelling blogpost today. Also, I see that Sue scooped me on our writer pal Bob Thurber who has some pretty exciting news -- actually, now you have to go to Sue's page to read all about it as well as an excerpt from Bob's incredible award winning story.

Finally, you MUST watch this, courtesy of my new favorite website,

Okay, I think that's enough excitement for today. Back upstairs to work on the novel.

Later..
xo

Yep, I was crazy enough to go to New York last night to see Julie and Eric Slick play one song with Adrian Belew

Adrian Belew with Julie Slick on bass and Julia Ranier on guitar and hidden as usual where you can't see him on the drums, Eric Slick


Aha! There's Eric, along with Julie and Julia and that's Foster on the keyboards

Some more...



So last night was amazing! I'm still on a high from it.

I still don't believe how the whole thing panned out.

Last blog post, I was a bundle of nervous energy, wondering if I should take the two hour trek to New York on a Sunday night to see my son play one song with Adrian Belew at the Knitting Factory. My daughter was also invited to play, but she works as a server at a restaurant on Sundays and is very conscientious and wouldn't call in sick.

I knew it was going to be a surprise to Eric that he was playing -- though as it turns out, he was having the best day ever being Adrian's roadie and hanging out with him and impressing him so much that when Eric brought Adrian over to say hello, Adrian told us that he'd love to have Eric come down to Nashville and maybe do some future project with him. Gary of course had to grab me by the elbow so I didn't swoon but I managed not to be my usual dorky self -- probably because I was so whipped by the end of the evening.

But I digress...

So I figured eventually Eric was going to get the news he was playing and he was going to call me and then I would most likely have to drag Gary out of his Sunday coma and make him drive me to New York to see our son. By this time, I'd given up on Julie because it was now late afternoon and she never phoned me.

But Eric never called, and when I tried to call him, it was obvious he was hanging with the cool kids and didn't want to talk with his mom, so I figured, okay, he must not want me to come up to New York...he's just playing on one song, blah blah blah. So I get comfortable in my p.j.s, and woo hoo, I have Neil Gaiman's MirrorMask on DVD which I am really looking forward to watching, when I hear my cell phone (which has the lovely ring of the actual Bob Dylan version of Along the Watchtower. Ah, I love technology. The sound of the telephone ringing used to make me cringe..well, the phone still makes me cringe, but at least I'm in love with my ring tone).

It was now 4:00 p.m. and I'm like Oh my god, you're kidding me. Because it wasn't Eric, it was Julie, who was calling me from the restaurant, telling me she'd be home in twenty minutes, and could I please ask Daddy for her if he'd drive her to New York because as it turned out, she wanted to play with Adrian Belew after all in a big way.

"Oh god, why can't you call Daddy?" (picturing him in bed in the fetal position snoring after most likely watching the Phillies' spring exhibition game on television and basically shutting out the world until Monday morning)

"Mommmmmmmmmm"

"Oh alright, I'll do it. Sure. Feed me to the lions. See if I care."

Just kidding. No one is prouder of his kids than Gary, and since he's a guitarist, I didn't exactly have to twist his arm to see Julie and Eric play with Adrian Belew.

So I threw on clothes, Julie came bursting through the door, changed...Gary pulled up...we hopped in the car...and it was now 5:10.

"What time does the show start, Julie?"

"Doors open at 6:00; show starts at 7:00 p.m."

I watched the clock on the car nervously. If there was no traffic, we could make it by 7:00 barely. If we hit traffic, we'd be doomed.

"Julie, call Eric and tell him we're on the way."

This I did at 5:20. Have I mentioned what a nervous wreck I am? I couldn't keep my eyes off that clock the entire time because I kept imagining us driving all the way to New York and getting there late and finding out that they already performed City of Tiny Lights without Julie.

You have no idea what a nightmare that would have been for me on all counts. Julie, her father....arghhh....very, um, emotional people. (This is, of course, why they are also incredible musicians so while I've come to accept this insanely emotional behavior, I'm still never quite prepared for the ensuing explosions even though they pass quickly)

Oh happy day...I mean night...we hit absolutely no traffic...just a five minute jam at the Holland Tunnel...and it's only 6:45 p.m. But I don't allow myself to stop hyperventilating even though I know that the Knitting Factory is basically walking distance from the tunnel...and naturally, I must have given off those vibes because even though we've been to the Knitting Factory like ninety times, we veered to the left off Beach Street instead of taking the right fork which would have taken us to Broadway, so Gary made some insane cowboy U-turns there and oh my god, 6:59 we pull up at the Knitting Factory and you can't even believe this, there's a parking spot...legal and free...right outside.

We rush inside and the place was packed! Considering it was Oscar night, this was pretty damn impressive, but Adrian Belew has some devoted fans.

As I stood at the bar catching my breath, Julie walked over and laughed and said "Guess what, Paul isn't bringing Eric and me out until the final song."

Whew.

Eric ran over and hugged me and I found out he did know he was playing City of Tiny Lights but had just found out an hour ago, and he already knew I was on the way. But seriously, had I known he was playing Saturday night, I would have definitely made plans to be there Sunday for sure....but then Julie would have been screwed out of a ride to New York and she wouldn't have gotten to play...so strangely enough, the whole thing worked out perfectly.

Anyway, the show. It was INCREDIBLE! What an enjoyable couple of hours, hearing songs which spanned Adrian's entire career - Heroes, which he did with David Bowie; two of my all time favorite King Crimson songs from the eighties - Three of a Perfect Pair and Frame by Frame...and then he said "Many years ago, an alien came down to earth..and he was amazing...he was with us for a short time...and he gave us this...."

And he fucking launched into Purple Haze.

The whole crowd sang along. "Excuse me while I kiss the sky!"

Magic. The night was magic.

And then for the last song, Paul introduced Julie and Eric, and they came out and did City of Tiny Lights with Adrian and brought the house down. You know me, I was crying, so that's why the photos are wobbly again...but I have plenty more so I'll try and see if I can find some better ones when I'm less out of it.

Adrian had jammed with Julie a couple weeks ago but there were so many other musicians there at the time he was a bit overwhelmed and had forgotten Julie and Eric were brother and sister. So after the show, he talked with Gary and me again and said he couldn't believe it -- he congratulated us on having two such talented kids...you know me, tears again...like I said, I'm on a high from which it will probably take all day to come down.

I think this would be a good time to watch MirrorMask. It looks very cool and even cooler, something I normally would never have sought out on my own but ever since I read Gaiman's Smoke and Mirrors in September I've been down several strange paths, the latest of which had me writing my first science fiction piece. Crazy, huh. Though I've already been told "Hey, this isn't science fiction, this is just another thinly disguised Robin Slick sex, drugs, and rock and roll story".

That was me who said that. Ha.

Okay...I'll be back later with a review and any other news Eric feeds me when he wakes up -- which I imagine will be sometime around noon.

Later,
xo

So my daughter just casually said to me Did you know your son is playing in New York with Adrian Belew tonight? And I was asked to play, too?

Julie Ranier at the mic, left to right: Teddi Tarnoff, Eric Slick, Julie Slick

Yeah, so tell me my life isn't strange. My daughter is getting ready to work the brunch shift at Rembrandts and casually says "Oh man...it's just too bad."

Knowing my daughter the way I do and the tone of her voice, I go on full paranoid mother alert.

"What? What's too bad?"

"Paul (uberlord of Rock School) called late last night and asked me if I was coming to the Adrian Belew show tonight in New York because he wanted me to sit in on bass on City of Tiny Lights".

"You're kidding me! And...you're not going to do it?"

"Mom, I can't. I have work. If I would have had more notice, I would have been able to find someone to cover my shift."

(Meanwhile, I'm so proud of her but is she really mine? She has such morals and ethics....I would have called in to work "sick" so fast my hand would have been on the phone two seconds after Paul called me)

And then she adds:

"Yeah, Eric is with Paul and Adrian right now. Eric doesn't know it yet, it's a surprise, but he's going to sit in on drums on City of Tiny Lights."

Arghhhh.......

Could someone please have told me about this, like, yesterday so I could have lined up a ride with Gary or bought train tickets and made plans to go to New York? So this is a "surprise" I'm not in on? I'm gonna cry. Because I'm trying to decide if it's worth the time and expense of a trip to New York to see Eric play just one song. Now if Julie were playing as well, then it would be a no-brainer. So right now I'm waiting for the phone to ring...hopefully. She did go to work, and she's going to see if she can find someone to cover for her because it's a 6:00 p.m. show in NY which means we'd have to leave here by 3:00 p.m. at the latest. And her shift doesn't end until 7:00 p.m.

So I'm crazed right now, wondering if I should be getting ready to go to New York or not.

Meanwhile, in case you missed my above comment, right now my lucky son is in a "car" with Paul and Adrian Belew, just hanging out, driving from Philly to New York. And Eric is totally unaware that he's playing tonight. Damn it! I'm using this journal to think out loud. How can I miss this?

Sigh...I can't.

Oh, in the event you are too lazy to click on the link and don't know who Belew is, he's an amazing guitarist who's only toured/recorded with Frank Zappa, David Bowie, King Crimson, Talking Heads, Crash Test Dummies, etc., etc.

By the way, speaking of music, one of my pals accused me of being a dinosaur. Au contraire. While I admit I did spend this morning listening to one of the undiscovered by today's youth classics of the late sixties, Fat Mattress, (featuring musicians who played with Hendrix - Noel Redding, Mitch Mitchell, Chris Wood of Traffic) I've been listening to a lot of new stuff...particularly the Flaming Lips. Eric and their drummer have actually emailed back and forth about a few things which is way cool. Anyway, Eric turned me on to Arctic Fire and Man Man and I'm totally into them -- finally, great song writing, great musicianship...I don't ask for much, just move my soul, damn it.

Okay, I should probably go wash my hair or something in case I have to fly out the door to New York sooner rather than later.

I leave you with a cool Neil Gaiman interview.

Cheers,
(Oh god, don't you just loathe when Americans say that? Ha! And I though ciao was bad!)

xo

The Nice News and Such Post

John Lennon and Yoko Ono as drawn by John, who apparently was able to master the fountain pen

So no high drama today, unless you consider a blog comment I received from Neil Gaiman's fountain pen guru/goddess Kathy Li last night as concerns the vintage pen I bought back in December:

Kathy Li
9:58 pm (9 hours ago)
That's not a Waterman 52. That's a Waterman 52½V. Writes like a frickin' golf pencil. Very pretty on a ribon around your neck, but not the best of pens.

And that's not cheap. That's collector's prices. I've never given Neil a collector's piece pen--good thing too, as he loses them (that replacement on the Anansi Boys tour? His third 52). The very first 52 I gave him cost me a grand whopping $25 (fished out of parts bins at the L.A. Pen Show). I learned to restore pens in order to get them cheap-cheap.

The true beauty of a fountain pen is that it's a 20th century, mass-produced plastic device. Once you understand that, everything else will follow.

Yeah, Kathy, I pretty much figured that out when I received the pen -- I like your golf pencil analogy -- and yep, while I haven't worn it on a ribbon around my neck, I have worn it on a long strip of black suede. Ha. I did also buy the Lamy 2000 as per your pal Neil's suggestion, but here's the sad truth. I'm left handed. Even though I've finally mastered using it without getting big ink splots, my ambitious plan to write an entire novel in longhand with a fountain pen is pretty much down the tubes because I'm unable to write for extended periods of time without smearing the ink.

Now I understand the barbaric pre-Bic pen custom where teachers tried to turn all left handed people into right handed ones. My late mother was left-handed, too, and when she told me stories about that torture growing up, I looked at her like she was from the dark ages.

I haven't completely given up, though. I still dig using the Lamy and doing things like writing checks with the Waterman 52-1/2V (and even Neil struggled with that little thing when he signed my journal for me) but admit that when I'm in heavy writing mode, I'm now using black uniball pens I purchased at Staples.

Yes, I know. I am a dork. That's already a well documented fact in this blog. But in case you need further proof, though I'm guessing you don't, here's another real dork moment for you:



Need I say more? All you have to do is look at the expression on my face and you know what you're dealing with here. Eddie Vedder looks good, though, doesn't he?

But thanks for your post and if you have any how-not-to-smear tips for said left-handed dorks, I'm all ears.

Oh, and regarding the "collectors prices", yeah, I found that out, too, but the man who sold it to me is a college professor who does this on the side and was extremely kind to me so what the hell...it's my own fault for not doing better research.

And finally, I did look to see if you had a website of your own I could link but all I found was some funny old abandoned journals from a couple of years ago. What I did read made me laugh -- we'd probably be friends in the real world. Anyway, failing to find a current blog, that's why I linked Neil's comment about you instead.
***********
In other news, a couple friends of mine have some great work published on line and I wanted to congratulate them as well as provide everyone with links:

First up, the lovely Jordan Rosenfeld, who has a wonderful story, Breathless, published in Spoiled Ink. And while Spoiled Ink has inexplicably given this the title Part II, this is in fact the entire piece and hopefully they'll remove that line in order to also remove any confusion.

Also, my pal David Niall Wilson has an essay up at Cemetary Dance which deals with how David gets his ideas...grrr...I'm so jealous...he seems like his mind is always switched to the "on" position, unlike me, who seems to have a short circuit somewhere.

By the way, David has an extremely cool blog. But I was just over there and saw American Idol references. Surely a man who loves King Crimson doesn't watch American Idol and he's just pulling our legs? Arghhh....note to self: E-mail David later and make sure he wasn't serious. And if he was...gasp...put him in touch with your only other exceptions to the "I won't have anything to do with people who like American Idol" rule...Lori Young and Ellen Meister.

And finally, my new friends Luis and Cindy Urrea mailed me two of Luis' books, The Hummingbird's Daughter (see Amazon link on right) and Devil's Highway. Both books are not only autographed for me personally, they contain sketches drawn by Luis and I was floored when UPS delivered them the other day. I will take digital pics and talk about the books in a couple of weeks when I am finished reading. I can tell you already that The Hummingbird's Daughter is blowing me away. Luis writes the way I dream about writing but never will, but that's not a bad thing, I accept it. It's kind of like Neil Young admiring Jeff Beck.

Am I giving myself too much credit comparing myself to Neil Young? Ha! Probably...but back in the day, they did call him "One Note Neil".

Wtf, I've always loved Neil and still do.

Obviously I have a thing for "Neils".

Later,
xo

Lemons and Seascape

Lemons and Seascape by Gustavo Schmidt. He really gives the blog some class today, huh. Like music/writing where my taste runs from classical to punk to classics to graphic novels (thanks to Mr. Gaiman), my taste in art is all over the place, too. I was turned on to Gustavo Schmidt accidentally when Failbetter Magazine showcased his work. Actually, I'm being really nice in giving you a link to Failbettter Magazine because sending a short story to them is like letting said short story fly out a window from the top floor of a New York City skyscraper on a windy day -- you'll never see it again nor learn into whose hands it fell and whether they liked it or not...well, you can pretty much assume they hated it and are now using the printed out version as wallpaper in their bathrooms if you really want to be honest with yourself.

But they do publish some great stories, damn it! And while stalking their site in the hopes that maybe my story would appear one of these days despite my never hearing from them, I stumbled on their Visuals section and that's where I "met" Gustavo.

I want one of his paintings.

Anyway, I needed something pretty to look at today because last night was the fucking night from hell. I woke up at 2:30 a.m. with back spasms that were almost unbelievable. Out of nowhere. And for sure when you wake up freaked out like that in the middle of the night, you just know you should be calling an ambulance because the pain is ten times worse thanks to your over-active imagination.

I tried to stretch out totally flat and not move, hoping the agony of whatever this was would pass while wondering how it happened. I theorized it must be the dog's fault. Even though Monty is a beagle mutt and not very big and I have a queen sized bed, he is a major bed hog. Somehow he manages to sprawl out in various positions which leave me with one inch of mattress and 3/4 of my body hanging over the bedframe.

But then I realized I was also nauseous.

I'll spare you the rest of the details -- no, no, it wasn't from Julie's gnocchi, which, by the way, were outrageously delicious -- but it appears I had a kidney stone. I had one over twenty years ago -- I guess a few years before Julie was born -- and let me tell you, giving birth without an epidural is far less painful. (I know this because Eric was almost born in a cab and there was no time for an epidural -- otherwise, I would have requested, as I did with Julie -- not just a mere epidural but morphine and a gun to shoot Gary)

I got lucky this time (again, I will spare you the details) but that prior attack sent me to the hospital for four days.

Quick funny story about that -- I had a total Homer Simpson moment when Gary rushed me to said hospital. We didn't know what the hell was going on -- we were really young, pretty much newlyweds -- and I was doubled over in pain. Same thing -- I woke up in the middle of the night with crippling back spasms and nausea. Except back then, we were really heavy partiers and we were paranoid to go to the hospital because we figured we'd get arrested ten seconds after they got my bloodwork results. But it soon became apparent, like, after I'd thrown up ten times in ten minutes and was writhing on the bathroom floor in agony, that I required some serious medical attention.

So Gary drives me to the hospital and I'm literally screaming the whole way, in between rolling down the window and sticking my head out doing you know what...and we get to the emergency room at like 3:00 a.m. and I'm in so much pain I don't care who the hell is witnessing my primal yells...at one point I was on my hands and knees howling like a werewolf. Naturally Gary had to stand there and give out insurance information, and that was (sob) before computers so it was an even more torturous process than it is now, and while he's doing that, because I'm making such a lovely scene, they whisk me into an examining room right off the waiting room. Just to give you a little more background information, Jefferson Hospital is in downtown Philadelphia and their waiting room is huge - it can probably hold 500 people, and there are rows and rows of plastic chairs. At 3:00 a.m. on a Saturday night, they were jammed packed with everything from drunks to gunshot victims (non-life threatening) to bartenders who'd cut themselves on broken glass.

Anyway, because of my symptoms, they pretty much diagnosed that it was a kidney stone right away. I mean, I was like twenty years old. A kidney stone was something that never would have occurred to me. In the meantime, they had me get totally undressed so they could wheel me to x-ray...I'm wearing nothing but a hospital gown which they told me to tie in the back but I couldn't because I'm a klutz and I was a klutz in pain.

And then they shot me full of morphine.

Well, the morphine went to work immediately and I finally stopped screaming. By the way, this whole time, Gary is still filling out forms. The nurses left me alone for around fifteen minutes to call an orderly or whatever to take me to x-ray and that's when I discovered that the morphine was not in fact working anymore and I needed another shot.

Totally stoned on morphine and not knowing it, I decided to go for a walk and find some more drugs on my own. And where did I go? Why, out back into the waiting room of course, wearing an untied hospital gown with no underwear and my entire ass hanging out. So in essence, I gave a twisted nudie show to drunks and gunshot victims (non-life threatening) and bartenders who'd cut themselves on broken glass.

All of a sudden I heard Gary's mortified "ROBBIE!!!!!" and to be honest, that's all I remember because I passed out and didn't wake up until a few hours later in a hospital bed hooked up to an I.V.

So you can understand why I went into full anxiety mode last night.

And needed some Gustavo Schmidt this morning. I love the title Lemons and Seascape -- it's very sensual and...sensory? Is that the word I want? Hmmm....you get the point I'm sure.

And now for some Beth Orton on my iPod and some serious writing.

Later,
xo

Who here has been a Holocaust pityfuck?

So I guess I should tell you that I'm equal opportunity when it comes to my silly fangirl mid-life crisis crushes on writers and that Neil Gaiman is just one of many. (Meanwhile, try saying that fast: Mid-life crisis crushes). Anyway, another hunk writer with whom I had the pleasure of sharing drinks is Steve Almond...in fact, I am proud to say that when I had a drink with Steve and his ever present posse of adoring fans back in 2004, I had his complete, stunned attention with his famous jaw dropping to his navel as I told him the behind the scenes story of my novel, Three Days in New York City. I don't want to tell you what he subsequently autographed in his book for me...his collection of short stories, that is, but I will tell you this: When I went to New York for his Candyfreak signing last year, he not only remembered me, but gave me the same exact inscription/autograph.

Sigh...and here I'd felt so special.

I'll bet if I do post what he wrote, I'll get 1,000 emails from women all over the country who exclaim "OHMYGOD HE WROTE THE SAME THING IN MY BOOK" and well, I just don't want to face that dreaded news even though I'm pretty sure it'll be the case.

Though if anyone really wants me to blab what he wrote, just ask and I'll stick it in "comments".

But no one can take that night away from me -- the night that it wasn't about "Steve" but all about Ms. Slick here. Ha! And I did warn him he's not allowed to use any of the material I gave him because it was already in my own book and everyone at our table laughed because they all knew he was writing the story in his head at that very moment.

Anyway, the reason I bring Steve up now is that I just read his new piece in Nerve Magazine, and because I'm Jewish and spent several hours talking with him and got a handle on how nuts he is (in a good way), I cracked the hell up because in his aforesaid essay over at Nerve he used the phrase "I am going to be the recipient of a Holocaust pityfuck".

So click on the link, have a read, and hopefully some laughs but it's really a lot more than a humorous tale...it's kind of bittersweet and sad, too.

But man, I've never been anyone's Holocaust pityfuck! Damn! But that could be because I'm so anti-religion I don't discuss said religion with anyone and get really annoyed if a person so much as says the word "church" to me.

Anyway, who the hell would want to be anyone's pityfuck under any situation?

Okay then. I am proud to say I've also never been a pityfuck.

Oh alright, alright. I'm lying.

So out of the black hole of submissions land, I heard from the editors at Juked Magazine about a piece I sent them. It was the coolest non-rejection/non-acceptance letter I think I've ever received from anyone. Usually it's just yay or nay...a one line email or a tiny scrap of paper in my own stamped, self-addressed envelope. But from Juked I got a lengthy email telling me how much they liked the story but they think it can be even better...and if I'd be willing to tweak it a bit (and they pretty much tweaked it for me in their examples)...they'd publish it.

I have absolutely no ego at all when it comes to things like that because I think it's impossible for a writer to be objective about his/her own writing and when someone obviously very intelligent offers me suggestions, I'm thrilled.

Only problem here is that I simul-subbed the story (yeah, I know, I broke my simul-sub rule following the great "Oh My God My Story Is Published Simultaneously in Two Magazines" fiasco mentioned here a couple of days ago). So now I'm wavering...Juked Magazine's suggestions really rock and I like them, but who is to say another editor at another magazine won't be thrilled with the piece as is?

Arghh...I guess I'll revise the story but hold off sending it a few days.

See why you shouldn't simul-sub?

But on the other hand, some magazines take a year to get back to you, and that makes me crazy. I am so fucking impatient...I send out a story, I start checking my email the next hour.

Anyway, one final word on writing - it appears that the Neil Gaiman in sunglasses in the woods wins best photo contest...the only dissenting vote is Susan Henderson who prefers Neil in regular glasses. I guess I won't email the results to him...too weird...and besides, if that sunglasses photo was on his journal, I'd be clicking on it 100 times a day and the next thing you know, his attorneys would be sending me a cyber-restraining order and well, that would be really, really embarrassing.

I could use a cyber-restraining order on some people here, though. You know who you are. Go away!

(Just kidding)

In music news, Eric is in full Project Object rehearsal mode, teaching drums, teaching Zappa, psyched thinking about the September tour with Chris Opperman, he's going into the studio at the end of March to record some tracks with Shannon Penn and right now he's sitting here next to me writing music on his laptop. This Sunday is the Adrian Belew/Rock School make-up because of the blizzard concert at the New York Knitting Factory, and I know Eric can't wait for that, either. If you are in New York, this is an amazing, amazing show and you should really try and make it. Here are the details for tickets.

And just so we don't leave out our newly vegetarian Julie Slick from the blog, before she left for class and an all night recording session tonight, she left me a special dinner BECAUSE SHE'S TRYING TO CONVERT ME. Oh. Sorry for the caplock. I get that way when I'm excited. She made me gnocchi concocted from a mixture of roasted squash and sweet potatoes (but she told me -- as if talking to a ten year old -- that I am in charge of boiling the water and placing them in, making sure I take them out as soon as they float to the top...hahahaha..I love my daughter but who does she think taught HER how to cook?) and in another container she's made a sauce from fresh sage and butter (apparently she's not vegan yet) so yes, yes, yes, I'm excited about that and is it suppertime yet?

I think that's it for now. But if not, I'll be back.

Later,
xo

Stay of Sexecution....I mean, Execution

Okay, I'm over yesterday's angst. The blog lives on. Long live the blog!

Wow. I'm really overwhelmed by the tons of emails I received yesterday urging me to "stay open". I heard from total strangers and a couple of emails really blew me away altogether -- like those from Cindy and Luis Urrea. Luis is a writer, Cindy is his wife -- and in a Twilight Zone moment, they have a son also named Eric who is 17 years old and plays the drums. It was just so, so cool to learn that they enjoy reading my blog every day. The emails were written by Cindy and it was a lot of fun to meet a kindred spirit...she's a writer, too (former newspaper woman, now research assistant, scheduling person, all around right hand woman to Luis) and a groupie mom for her son who seems to have the same intensity about his music that my son has. I laughed at her tale of driving all over the place to see her boy play. Oh, what the parents of drummers really have to endure. Contrary to popular belief, we love the drums and the "noise" doesn't bother us...but think about it. Every time our kids play a show, we have to transport those things and they aren't exactly small and light. Eric's dad had to get a big, ugly, yuppie gas guzzling SUV just for drum chauffeur duties. The minute the lease is up next year, if I know Gary, he'll be at the car dealership at 9:00 a.m. that morning so he can trade it in for a mid-life crisis two seater convertible because by then Eric will have his own wheels.

And while I'm on the subject of drummers, they're always the most wiped out after a performance but always the last to leave the venue...the drums have to be taken apart, stacked, carefully arranged in the car...arghhh....back in the old days, when Eric was younger, the other Rock School parents with their wussy guitar playing kids were already home asleep in bed before I'd even left the club. My standard line to Eric: "Why couldn't you have played the flute?"

The best was when he would pull this one: After a show, he'd want to go out with his friends. So he'd look at me all doe-eyed.

"Can you take my drums home for me?"

Yeah, like that was easy. Load the car, unload the car. Double park outside, take them in, one piece at a time; bass drum, snare, etc., cymbals, cymbal stands, double bass pedal...up the steps, down the steps. By the time I was done, I'd have to pass out on the sofa for an hour before I could make my way back upstairs.

I wouldn't trade it for the world.

And like I said, if I could get to every city he's playing on the Project Object tour this April/May, I would. And might!

Anyway, back to Cindy and Luis. Naturally after getting their email, I immediately went to Luis' website and what's the first thing I read:

"Luis Alberto Urrea, 2005 Pulitzer Prize finalist for nonfiction and member of the Latino Literature Hall of Fame, is a prolific and acclaimed writer who uses his dual-culture life experiences to explore greater themes of love, loss and triumph..."

I almost fell off my chair.

Wow. And Luis and Cindy like the way I write. I seriously blushed all afternoon.

I've put an Amazon link to his book, The Hummingbird's Daughter, on the right under the lovely Susan Henderson's Motorhead, and hope that you'll check it out.

And please notice I've also placed an Amazon link for David Niall Wilson's "Deep Blue" on the right hand side, too. This was a great read, especially for music lovers with a dark side. Wait. What music lover doesn't have a dark side? Of course I'm talking real music lovers here, not Jesus Take the Wheel pop crap fans.

You know, I don't think that I've ever loved anyone who isn't a music lover with a dark side.

I'm sure that will come as a big surprise to all of you.

So again, thanks for the kind words and encouragement yesterday and yeah, yeah, I'll keep this journal going after all. I mean, come on, if I delete it, I'll lose Neil Gaiman's post where he gives me fountain pen recommendations and we can't have that!

Hmmm, speaking of Neil, I could use a twisted moment. Susan of Motorhead fame, which one do you prefer -- what I now refer to as the "classic" with the blue glasses or the new one with the beard? Or the one at the desk in the writing cabin? Or, as I am adding now as per your post in today's comment section, Neil in glasses?

Damn if I can decide. I know, let's have an orgy...I mean, let's have a vote in the comments section or something. Here are the candidates:





Yeah, cast your vote and maybe we'll email him the results. I'm not digging the one on his journal now and it's on every page of his newly designed website, which I really love other than that photo. He's so much better looking than that in real life.

Ha ha - speaking of a real life, I should get one, huh.

Right.

In other news, it pays to be a friend of Playgirl Magazine. As I broadcasted all over the universe, I was in their December, 2005 issue and I've got an interview coming up in a future issue as well as an excerpt from my novel. In today's mail I received an interesting looking padded envelope addressed to me from Trans Digital Media. Hmmm, what was this? It felt like a DVD and I knew I didn't order any DVDs but ooh, ooh, maybe someone sent me a gift?

Yep. And it was a DVD alright.

The promo lines on the cover say "Private Pleasures. Every Woman Has Them. Maybe You'll See Yours In...PLAYGIRL PRIVATE PLEASURES."

It came with a note:

Dear Robin:
Please enclosed find a note from your friends at Playgirl. Private Pleasures is the first Playgirl TV DVD available for home use. I hope you enjoy this complimentary copy and....

Yep, you guessed it. I got a free DVD called PLAYGIRL PRIVATE PLEASURES (and by the way, the guy on the front cover looks like Johnny Depp) and they want me to watch it and write a review.

Oh, I think that can be arranged.

My son saw it on the coffee table and said "Ewwwwwwwwww"

I took it away from him and just put it upstairs next to my bed where it belongs.

(Now you can really say "Ewwwwwwwwww", Eric)

Ha ha.

Love,
Mom