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

Lazy Gilly was a flower child - all the summer calmly running wild - she'd be silly and her friends just smiled

This is actually a chalk sidewalk drawing by Julian Beever. Is that wild or what? And if you think the above looks three dimensional, have a look at these. I mean, they're all merely drawn on a flat pavement.





I love insane stuff like Julian's art. He's awesome, isn't he?

This just in: Lisa Kudrow is narrating the audio version of my friend Ellen Meister's novel! I am thrilled beyond belief for Ellen and as I've stated here many times in the past year, you are all going to be able to say "We knew her when!" once her book comes out this August. In fact, you should all pre-order it right now right here!

Hey, due to popular demand and Pearl Jam fans coming at me from all over the world, some of whom do not easily read or speak English, I've made the You Tube movie with Eddie Vedder and my son Eric (and Rock School Hall of Famers Larry Allen, Joey Randazzo, and Julia Ranier) a permanent link on the right hand side, directly under the Amazon book links. I also permanently linked the "Robin Slick and Neil Gaiman Together at Last" post brought to you with the help of my pal David Niall Wilson because every time I look at it, I laugh my ass off.

So how cool is this -- an excerpt from Three Days in New York City is up on Playgirl Magazine and my bio and an interview will also be in the magazine in a couple of months.

Yeah, that makes me happy.

Speaking of happy, Happy Birthday to Ms. Carolyn Pagnotta, my son's girlfriend, who turns 18 today and oh boy, do I wish I were Carolyn because Eric has some awesome things planned for her. Obviously I can't spill anything now but expect a full report next week.


Once again, Happy Birthday, Carolyn!

So I'm not sure if this is (my luck) something that's been floating around the internet in a lot of writing circles for years but I saw it for the first time yesterday and I thought I would share it here because it cracked me up:

Says an English professor from the University of Phoenix:

"Today we will experiment with a new form called the tandem story. The process is simple. Each person will pair off with the person sitting to his or her immediate right. As homework tonight, one of you will write the first paragraph of a short story. You will e-mail your partner that paragraph and send another copy to me. The partner will read the first paragraph and then add another paragraph to the story and send it back, also sending another copy to me. The first person will then add a third paragraph, and so on back-and-forth. Remember to re-read what has been written each time in order to keep the story coherent. There is to be absolutely NO talking outside of the e-mails and anything you wish to say must be written in the e-mail. The story is over when both agree a conclusion has been reached."

The following was actually turned in by two of my English students: Rebecca (last name deleted), and Gary (last name deleted).

THE STORY:

(first paragraph by Rebecca)
At first, Laurie couldn't decide which kind of tea she wanted. The chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about him too much her asthma started acting up again. So chamomile was out of the question.

(second paragraph by Gary)
Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about than the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. "A.S. Harris to Geostation 17," he said into his transgalactic communicator. "Polar orbit established. No sign of resistance so far..." But before he could sign off a bluish particle beam flashed out of nowhere and blasted a hole through his ship's cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him flying out of his seat and across the cockpit.

(Rebecca)
He bumped his head and died almost immediately, but not before he felt one last pang of regret for psychically brutalizing the one woman who had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4. "Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel," Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously excited her and bored her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her youth, when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no newspapers to read, no television to distract her from her sense of innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her. "Why must one lose one's innocence to become a woman?" she pondered wistfully.

(Gary)
Little did she know, but she had less than 10 seconds to live. Thousands of miles above the city, the Anu'udrian mother ship launched the first of its lithium fusion missiles. The dim-witted wimpy peaceniks who pushed the Unilateral Aerospace disarmament Treaty through the congress had left Earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien empires who were determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage of the treaty the Anu'udrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying enough firepower to pulverize the entire planet. With no one to stop them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion missile entered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President, in his top-secret mobile submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off the coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably massive explosion, which vaporized poor, stupid, Laurie and 85 million other Americans. The President slammed his fist on the conference table. "We can't allow this! I'm going to veto that treaty! Let's blow 'em out of the sky!"

(Rebecca)
This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic, semi-literate adolescent.

(Gary)
Yeah? Well, you're a self-centered tedious neurotic whose attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium. "Oh, shall I have chamomile tea? Or shall I have some other sort of F--KING TEA??? Oh no, I'm such an air headed bimbo who reads too many Danielle Steele novels!"

(Rebecca) Asshole.

(Gary) Bitch

(Rebecca) F__K YOU - YOU NEANDERTHAL!!!

(Gary) Go drink some tea - whore.

(TEACHER) A+ - I really liked this one.

I dunno -- frat humor, maybe, but it made me smile. And really, that's all I ask for these days.

And P.S. - the title of this post? Lyrics to Friday, by Joe Jackson.

She don't care no more, she gets paid on Friday. Does that ring a bell? Awesome song. I've been pulling out the golden oldies lately and enjoying myself to no end.

Later,
xo

Odds and Sods for Thursday, April 6

More from the John Wetton Show at the New York Knitting Factory -- Katie Jacoby on violin, Zach Bukowski on flute, Stevie Roberts on keyboards, CJ Tywoniak on guitar, and Eric Slick on drums

So yeah, the last few days have been dull and I suppose I should be glad, but I'll be gladder if I can get some writing done today. Hey, it could happen...

No. It will happen. While it's been dull for me personally, it's been nuts here this week with kids and appointments and various other diversions but when I don't write for a few days I'm miserable and filled with self-loathing and we just can't have that.

Hey, it's starting to finally hit me that next Wednesday my son goes on tour for almost five weeks! Here's the official advert:



Cool, huh. And even better, I just learned my daughter Julie will be joining Project Object on stage with her bass for "City of Tiny Lights" and "Peaches and Regalia" on opening night at the World Cafe -- I will try to control myself and not cry or jump on stage with my camera. But yeah, to say I'm excited is an understatement.

So remember yesterday when I said I heard from an old friend -- the one who sent me the Texas Cowboy in Mexico joke? He wants me to co-author a book with him on a subject totally outside my realm of knowledge but I'm interested, I'm interested. But first he said he has to mail me some reading material.

Now this worries me.

Have I ever told the story of my first internet experience here? Well, if I have, I'm sorry to be so senile and you can stop reading now, but something tells me I never had the guts to share this before. Until now. And I'll probably regret it, but it makes for a good laugh.

I was probably one of the last people to go "online". I thought computers were part of a diabolical Republican plan to steal creativity away from our youth. And so while I had a computer and my kids were on line since the early nineties, I avoided it like it was the Mother of All Evil.

And then one day six years ago, the kids were at school, and I saw a commercial on T.V. for Gap On Line. What's this? I could buy my black t-shirts on line and never have to visit another fucking Gap store again? All I had to do was go to www.gap.com? (I hate to shop, have I mentioned that? I mean, I love CD shopping and shopping for cool arty stuff, but regular shopping...arghhh).

So I sat down at the computer and had no idea at all what I was doing. I didn't know about Netscape or Internet Explorer - I knew we had AOL so I figured out how to sign on to that, not knowing I had signed on to my daughter's screen name and what that meant.

I'm in the middle of placing my order when I got my first instant message, only of course it was meant for Julie. It was nothing, just one of her goofy friends, but I closed the window and got all freaked out. I didn't want to invade her privacy...but...I wanted to be able to buy my black t-shirts on line, damn it!

It didn't take rocket science to figure out how to give myself a screen name. Oh my god, how embarrassing is this. My first name was Mrs. Hippie. Please kill me, I can't even believe I'm sharing that. Anyway, complete trusting novice that I was, I learned I could make myself an AOL profile and I was blatantly and disgustingly honest. You would have thought I was preparing a profile for for www.match.com. I listed my likes, my dislikes -- I did everything but list my actual street address.

Why did I do this? I have no idea, other than I thought that's what you were supposed to do in order to participate on AOL.

Oy.

Sooo...it's only about ten minutes in that I'm happily shopping with my new screen name when I receive an instant message. Apparently AOL has a feature where another member can type in a search word and find members with like tastes, and my first IMer ever typed in rock music and Philadelphia.

Ohhhh....I can't finish this story.

Nah, I won't do that to you. That would be cruel. So here is the edited, abridged, and kid proof version. We got to talking, and he asked me if I liked water sports.

I naturally thought he meant water skiing, boating, stuff like that.

He said he was e-mailing me some reading material.

I now had to learn how to download, but he coached me through it, and it landed on the desktop. Okay, no problem, right?

Wrong.

I open the water sports document and read Chapter One.

"What To Do In Fancy Hotels"

Huh?

"You take down the shower curtain and place it on the bed like a sheet so you don't ruin the mattress..."

Wuh?

Chapter Two.

"The Nutritional Benefits of Urine and How It Can Save You If You Are Ever in a Plane Crash or Shipwrecked"

Um, I don't really have to go into this any further, do I?

Horrified, it took me three hours to delete it from the desktop (don't forget, I didn't know about "Trash" or "Recycle") and I sat there shaking with paranoia that my then young teenagers would find it and think it was mine.

Well, it was mine. Ha. I mean I was terrified they'd think it was something I was into.

I deleted my screen name immediately. Mrs. Hippie was no more.

Now you would think that would have kept me off line forever, wouldn't you?

(And trust me, I left out practically every detail I could just now...you got the bare bones version of this story)

But no, here I am, and I even use my real name. How nuts am I?

Speaking of nuts, look, you know this is something I'd never be able to resist in a million years so I hope it happens -- in Neil Gaiman's blog the other day as concerns contributing to the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund:

Neil said:

It's definitely time to say thank you to any of you who have contributed to the fund recently. And it's time for me to do several of the fundraising things I keep meaning to do but have been putting off. For example, about a decade ago I grabbed a few dozen of my older black tee shirts, signed them in fabric paint and gave them to the CBLDF who sold them at conventions for about $50 a shirt. I think it's time to go and buy some new pots of fabric paint...

Ahem. A vintage worn by Neil Gaiman black t-shirt? And only $50.00? And the money goes to a good cause?

Oh my God. A new reason to live.

Later,
xo

Wednesday morning at 5:00 as the day begins...

Robin Slick acting like an idiot at a sacred monument. Sorry. It just looked climb-able and I couldn't resist.

Anyway...

I got nothing.

I know you are all used to being amused with stories of my kiddies, my rock star pals, or my insane life in general...but seriously, the most exciting thing that happened yesterday was that a dog pooped on my top step (marble) outside and one of the many kids traipsing through here stepped in it and I not only had to clean it off the step, I had to scrub the hallway. And then I hollered and yelled, which is something I really do not do.

So it was a bad day.

But...not entirely. I heard from a very old friend, and he sent me a joke which actually made me laugh out loud. Ready? Okay...here it is:

A big Texas cowboy stopped at a local restaurant following a day of roaming around in Mexico. While sipping his tequila, he noticed a sizzling, scrumptious looking platter being served at the next table. Not only did it look good, the smell was wonderful.

He asked the waiter, "What is that you just served?"

The waiter replied, "Ah Senor, you have excellent taste! Those are bull's testicles from the bull fight this morning, a delicacy!"

The cowboy, though momentarily daunted, said, "What the heck, I'm on vacation -- bring me an order."

The waiter replied, "I am so sorry Senor. There is only one serving per day because there is only one bull fight each morning. If you come early tomorrow and place your order, we will be sure to save you this delicacy."

The next morning, the cowboy returned and placed his order. That evening he returned and was served the one and only special delicacy of the day. After a few bites, and inspecting the contents of his platter, he called to the waiter and said, "These are delicious, but they are much, much smaller than the ones I saw you serve yesterday!"

The waiter shrugged his shoulders and replied:

"Si, Senor. Sometimes the bull wins."

Later,
xo

Just Another Manic Monday

John Wetton and Eric Slick

So thank you Dave Neidorf for sending me all those great photos from the John Wetton/Rock School shows. These are stills from the DVD? They came out fantastic! And the DVD is where? Ha! Just kidding...Dave has been incredibly generous sharing DVDs he's filmed of the All-Star concerts and he just wrote to me that said DVD is on its way.

Dave's daughter Sara is one of Eric's students and she is an amazing drummer in her own right. Here's a photo of Sara with John Wetton at the New York Knitting Factory last month:



I have a bunch more photos in my photobucket site and a lot more I'll be adding (I promise...I will make that a priority) but I'll also post them here one by one during the week. If you don't want to wait, go visit yourself and take what you want. I provided the link last week but all you have to do is right click on one of the above photos and get the properties and that'll give you the address.

Meanwhile I can't believe Eric is leaving for what amounts to a five week tour next Wednesday. Man, I'm really going to miss him but I guess I'd better get used to it, huh. So far I'm definitely making his shows in Vermont, Massachusetts, and Maryland but I'm still trying to decide if I should book flights to venues in places like Illinois and Wisconsin. The thing is -- I really love this band and I can't get enough of seeing/hearing my son on the drums. It's about the music! But I know I can't show up at every gig like some crazed stage mother so I guess I'd better control myself and limit the amount of cities I visit this month and next.

Maybe.

It's only 8:00 a.m. right now and Eric is already out the door to hop a train to the recording studio with the Shannon Penn Band until tonight when he heads almost to New York City for a rehearsal with Project Object from 10:00 p.m. to 1:00 a.m. for the tour. Ditto tomorrow. He may catch a break on Wednesday but Thursday it's all day/night in New York teaching drums and rehearsing. And then next week the great tour begins at World Cafe Live!

So what a nutty couple of days. First there was the wicked April Fools joke that Sue Henderson and I fell for. Apparently Neil did not -- by the title of his post "Poisson d'Avril, and other interesting dishes on the subject" and the fact that he mentions a "herring" in his computer...well, let's just say he's the brains in the bunch but he did link Sue in his blog and since he previously commented in mine, Sue and I have decided to get "I'm Neil Gaiman's Bitch" t-shirts printed up for ourselves. Poisson d'Avril means April fishes and if you don't know what that means, use Google.

Then, Julie and I decided to have breakfast the following morning at a place we heard was totally wild but wild is a word which just barely scratches the surface. Let's see. Where do I start. Okay. The outside has an old fashioned Coca Cola sign which looks like this:



Inside, there are just four tables. And there's only four things on the menu. And it's only open four days a week.

But I digress.

The restaurant is called Carman's Country Kitchen and it's at 11th and Wharton Streets, a few blocks south of the Italian Market and maybe ten blocks south of City Hall. When Julie and I walked in, I immediately loved the vibes in the place -- in fact, it reminded me of my house. Colored lights, mardi gras beads hanging from the tin ceiling, plants, mismatched furniture and dishes, etc. I saw the four specials on the blackboard and was instantly intrigued:

Orange pumpkin carrot poppyseed pancakes with black walnut sweetened cream cheese -- stuff like that.

The restaurant is owned by Carman, a fifty/sixty something diva who wears a bandana and hippie clothes and stiletto heels. Her assistant is Dan, an aspiring jazz musician who cut fresh strawberries the whole time we were there. Okay, first odd thing. I looked up at a shelf and squinted and then asked Julie:

"Is that a ceramic statue of a boy with a huge penis?"

"Mom?"

"Yeah? What, it's not a penis? I'm whispering, nobody hears..." (God forbid I embarrass her.)

"It's a penis Mom," she giggled. Whew. Julie can be a prude, but she's being really cool about this. Still, there's something else, I can tell. Why did she say "Mom?" like that. What's up with her big assed grin?

"Why are you laughing, Julie?"

"I can't believe you didn't notice. Look around, Mom. We're surrounded."

And oh my God, she was right. There were penises everywhere. Even the spout on the teapot was a penis. But you'd never know it. It wasn't pornography, there were just cute little penis egg cups, salt and pepper shakers...I mean, basically penis knick knacks.

I'm dying here. How did I, the Queen of Smut, miss something like that? Now I had to look in every nook and cranny where I found things with penises I didn't even know could have a penis. I tried to make conversation with Dan, but that proved difficult. Dan doesn't like to talk to strangers. They have regulars who have been coming in every day they are open for the past god knows how many years. I got paranoid that he thought Julie and I were obnoxious downtown yuppies so of course my next move was to start babbling because for some strange reason it was important for me to prove to him that we're not yuppies, we're hipsters. Oy. What can I say, once a neurotic, always a neurotic. Anyway, I started by asking sbout their odd hours.

Dan handed me their business card which spelled it all out without speaking. But we couldn't help but notice the large red lettering at the bottom:

"CARMAN'S COUNTRY KITCHEN. SHE PUT THE CUNT BACK INTO COUNTRY"

Naturally Julie and I really lost it. I realized we're acting like tourists. So what did I say next:

"Dan, I see you have CDs on sale here. You're a musician? Julie's a musician. My son is a musician..." Yes. It is somehow important to me to convince Dan and Carman that we are cool.

Now Julie was no longer smiling.

"Here. You need to taste this," she said, putting such a huge piece of pancake on a fork that even Homer Simpson wouldn't be able to handle it but I had no choice, she was dripping syrup all over my eggplant potato spinach omelet (yeah, don't ask, but it was really good) so I had to take it all in my mouth, every bit of it, which was pretty funny considering all the erect penises everywhere and of course that thought occurred to me while I was, um, trying to swallow which didn't help things.

I had syrup coming out of my nose trying not to laugh.

Anyway, how weird is this. Not only does this place have the strangest hours, Friday through Monday, 8:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m., the four items do not change throughout the day...they change on Saturdays only.

Julie and I tried to figure that out. If you are open Friday through Monday, wouldn't it make sense to run your specials Friday through Monday? But no. They serve the same thing Saturday, Sunday, Monday....and Friday. Then change up on Saturday.

I was wondering about those strawberries...how they'd hold up and all, but Julie reminded me that I am an idiot and while the menu stays the same, new strawberries would of course be used.

Anyway, bottom line -- the food in this place is fabulous, the atmosphere insane....the owner and her assistant prima donnas -- Julie and I can't wait to go back.

I ended up spending the rest of the weekend contemplating the state of my new novel (much better), the state of my diet (I'm determined to lose another ten pounds by the end of this month), and I also managed a lot of time outdoors in that gorgeous spring weather.

Today of course it is pitch black in here and we're expecting vicious thunderstorms on and off throughout the day.

Yay! Just the kind of atmosphere for me to write! I'm serious. I love it in here right now. Dark and quiet -- except for a Nick Lowe Tribute I downloaded or is that uploaded on my iPod...I'm listening to Cracking Up performed by Tom Petty which is strangely very good as is the cover of Cruel to be Kind by Marshall Crenshaw -- Julie is back in school as her spring break is now history, and Eric is at the aforesaid recording studio.

Time to get busy with the pen and journal. Maybe this month will finally see the completion of my book?

Later,
xo

Neil! Susan! We've been duped!

Me sulking and then totally perplexed altogether

Wow. And just a few hours ago I was sulking that Neil Gaiman had linked Susan Henderson in his blog instead of me --the self-proclaimed Empress of Cyberworld -- as concerns the lunatic I told you about who was eating all of Neil's books.

But the story has now taken a strange, bizarre twist.

Guys? We've been duped.

In fact, we have been hornswoggled.

Ha! Brilliant!

Pass the bottle -- Friday rules

And now the moment they've both been dreading -- the original Julie and Eric Slick future rock star photo and yes, they did love those tie-dye shirts. But man, what a prediction of how their lives did in fact turn out, and even though it's Julie who ultimately played the bass and Eric is a drummer, he also plays guitar, bass, sax, marimbas, piano...you name it. But I feel I must make a disclaimer here. The cowboy hats were their idea - god knows I tried to talk them out of it. I remember it like it was yesterday. Julie threatened to not allow the photographer to take their picture unless I let them both wear those things. She's been making the rules around here since day one. I've officially dubbed her the Slick Family Social Director.

But the fact that it says "Star on the Horizon"...wow.

Hey, check out the other headlines on that Rolling Stone cover -- so I'm guessing this must be from 1992 which would make Eric five and Julie six years old at the time this photo was taken. "Guns and Roses fans await new album". Err...I think they're still waiting fifteen years later. Hope they weren't holding their breath. Check that. I hope they did and are now all blue.

Not me. Bleh, feh, and yeah, yeah, we all know what Axl Rose really means when you unscramble the letters. He's just so...cough cough...hip. ("Oral sex" for those of you uncool folks out there and if you didn't previously know that, I wouldn't worry about it...in fact, be proud)

And oh god, there's also a headline about the Grateful Dead. Jerry's been dead since like, what, 1994? Ugh, there's another band which will be on the soundtrack in hell when I die. How is it that I never remember to mention them when I moan how much I despise U2 and Aerosmith? I think I hate them so much I just block them out. Oh, and that goes for their evil little devil child Phish, too. And oh my god, all of their solo efforts....arghhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Okay, who can tell me where the title of this post originates? Stick your answer in the comments section -- if no one comes up with the answer, I'll post it tomorrow or whenever I post next.

Speaking of music (and when don't I?), I'm really digging the new David Gilmour CD a lot more than I thought I would. One song I'm really liking is "This Heaven" which has Georgie Fame on Hammond Organ. I also especially love the first cut, "On An Island", which features Graham Nash and David Crosby on back-up vocals. By the way, make sure you do in fact click on the David Crosby link and then click on "politics". Yay, David! See, this is what is missing from music today. Don't fucking dance to mindless MTV/rap/music...listen to the real thing, absorb the lyrics, read about this fucking country of ours that's robbing all of our personal freedom...and get out in the street and protest!

Getting back to the Gilmour CD, funny inside story about how Nash and Crosby ended up on the CD. Gilmour and Nash are neighbors and Gilmour had an emergency plumbing problem at his house. Graham Nash has a reputation for being a very handy guy, so Gilmour phoned him up and asked him to come over and see if he could help. After struggling a few hours and no real plumber available, Nash told Gilmour he knew of another neighbor even more handy, and he called her and she came over straight away and fixed the problem. Know who it was? None other than Bette Midler. She's like mega handywoman. By the way, did you know I've been chased down the street by foreign tourists (and clueless Americans) more than once asking for my photo and autograph because apparently I'm Bette's double? I don't see the resemblance at all, but since I hear it from people at least once a week, maybe it is true. I dunno. You decide.

Bette:


Me:


Ha ha - I looked for a better comparison pic but the problem is, I never smile when there's a camera in front of me so I'll have to settle for this one.

Getting back to the story, David Crosby was hanging out with Graham Nash when all of this occurred and that's how they ended up doing background vocals on Gilmour's new CD.

So vegging out here at the computer with Comedy Central on in the background, I just heard the most hilarious line, especially as you all know how anti-religion I am.

"You see all of these proud Christians, wearing gold crosses around their necks? Yeah, I know if I were Jesus Christ and I came back to Earth a cross is just what I'd want to see."

Ha ha. That cracked me up. And how true.

Let's see. What else. Oh yeah, Neil Gaiman twisted moment time. Neil, you do not need a haircut. Leave perfection alone.

You know, from the very moment I started this blog in October of 2004, it has led me down some of the strangest paths ever, but more importantly, put me in touch with some incredible writers and musicians. Just yesterday I received an email from an author from the UK named John Baker who wrote to me:

"I literally stumbled into your blog. I was looking for something else entirely, something quite specific, though I can't remember what it was. Anyway all of a sudden I was there - in her own write - and it was like being trapped in a fairy ring for a while. I didn't think I'd be able to get out. When the panick cleared I realised I didn't want to get out - not yet awhile anyways. And I'll be back again before long"..

I mean really. How cool is that. I've linked John on the right hand side as well and you should really check him out. I plan on picking up whatever I can find of his at the bookstore down the street because I really like what I've read on his site. I mention the bookstore down the street because I am lucky enough to live in a neighborhood with probably one of the last "mom and pop" bookstores in Philadelphia:

Bookhaven
2202 Fairmount
Philadelphia, PA 19130
215-235-3226

"A great little bookstore located in Philadelphia's Art Museum area and just down the street from the infamous Eastern State Penitentiary. The proprietors, Rolf and Ricci, run a friendly, well-stocked, general used bookstore with very reasonable prices. They know good, interesting books and a visit will not disappoint".

In other news, I read about this and immediately signed up. If you don't believe me, click here and scroll down. Ask me how psyched I am about it. But my luck, he's got a three year waiting list. Or worse, I'll get an instant invite and he'll be serving kidneys, liver or sweetbreads that night. Oh who cares, it sounds like a totally cool adventure and I'm always up for that.

Anyway, I know I've got more news but it's early in the morning and I can't remember and unfortunately, I have to get dressed and get out of here for an 8:30 a.m. appointment with my blood pressure/oh-my-god-your-cholesterol-is-way-too-high doctor. That kind of sucks. I forgot and ate cheesecake last night and I'm setting myself up for a lecture. The worst part of that is, he's really nice and he looks at me with these sad eyes like Robin, what are you, suicidal? and he can't understand why.

Me either.

Gonna have to face it I'm addicted to food?

Oh wait. The guy that wrote that song died of a heart attack at like age 50.

Oh wait. No. He was addicted to love.

Oh wait. They're not the same thing? Could have fooled me.

Just kidding, just kidding.

Later,

xo

Thursday Goes Too Slow...

Eric and Julie Slick when they were baby rock stars. And believe it or not, this photo was taken at the late and lamented yearly Philadelphia Blues Festival which was held outdoors and where we bought Eric a handmade wooden drum. When Stephen Stills took the stage, five year old Eric started drumming along with him and within ten minutes had 20,000 people standing around him in a circle with their mouths wide open as opposed to watching Mr. Stills.

Julie is holding a red rubber lobster which is what she insisted we buy her after Eric got the drum. We never did find out why it was so important to her.

Now I know you are all probably shocked to see that photo instead of this one, which of course I lifted off of his website yesterday in a fit of total glee:



But when I went to Susan Henderson's blog today, she'd already posted it but you must go visit Sue anyway because while I reported that Howard Glassman was currently eating the entire works of Neil Gaiman, Sue saw it, got in touch with Howard, and interviewed him! Makes for one hell of a read. Hey Howard! I bet Sue and I get you on the Daily Show! You and your power walkers are gonna owe us!

So Julie forced me into doing the tax/college paperwork extravaganza yesterday which is really a good thing because this means I don't have to spend the next two weeks waking up at 2:00 a.m. and not being able to fall back asleep due to worrying about it. In honor of all that we went out to lunch at a really cool restaurant called Matyson. This place definitely makes it into our top ten, maybe even our top five. I'm not sure if what we had is on this menu - Julie had a really sick version of a Salad Nicoise which had roasted potatoes, about a pound of fresh tuna, imported olives, etc. and I had an even sicker salad - filet mignon, fresh mozzarella cheese, roasted tomatoes, assorted really fresh greens and croutons made from black bread all tossed together with a champagne dressing. We shared dessert of what's listed as coconut cream pie but was really coconut mousse atop a layer of chocolate ganache in a macadamia nut crust...topped with incredible toasted coconut whipped cream. Needless to say, we walked to and from the restaurant which is about four miles for damage control. And I did not eat dinner last night in penance.

Eric came home with the head cold from hell but he's still hanging tough in the studio all day and rehearsals for the Project Object tour all night. Meanwhile, from lurking on the John Wetton website I learned that Steve Howe is doing a tour and he's hitting many of the same venues Eric is playing...most interesting that he's playing at the Iron Horse in Northampton, MA on April 17 which is one night after Eric following a concert in New York and then a three day layover. Um, what I'm trying to say here is, Steve Howe has three days off after his New York show before playing the show in MA and maybe he'll be there a day early and see Eric's show? Hahahaha - I really do live in fantasy world, don't I? But I mean, Eric's hung out with Adrian Belew and John Wetton this month and last and Tony Levin in January, why not Howe, too? (Eric already met Carl Palmer -- Palmer taught him a stick trick and after much begging, Eric got him to autograph my Brain Salad Surgery album for me. I mean, I had to beg Eric; Eric didn't have to beg Carl...just so we're clear on that. And I really didn't have to beg Eric, I'm just kidding). And in case anyone out there reading this has no fucking idea what I'm talking about and what the connection is, prog rockers John Wetton, Steve Howe, Tony Levin, Adrian Belew, Carl Palmer...and Eric Slick...have all played together in various projects at different points in their careers.

Anyway, I'm really psyched. I've booked my hotels for a Project Object tour weekend in Vermont and MA and can't wait to put on my groupie mom cape again and fight for truth, justice, and the American way.

Hang on - truth, justice...and American way? That's kind of an oxymoron in the Bush administration, isn't it?

I really meant I can't wait to put my magic groupie mom cape on and be rock and roll crazy girl again. Now if I could only invent a time machine.

So I believe that's it for today. I'm still recovering from all of yesterday's paperwork...my brain is hurting...and I think I'll spend today writing a few hours then reading outdoors in the park with the dog for a bit. Err..I don't read to the dog, he just sits next to me and makes me feel good. It's just a magnificent spring day out there with trees in bloom and temperatures in the sixties. I'm still slowly savoring The Hummingbird's Daughter (Amazon link at right) but I'm almost at the end, darn it. What a book!

Oh, one more thing. Pearl Jam fans looking for the video clip I posted with Eddie Vedder and my son Eric singing The Who's A Quick One can find it right here.

Later,
xo

Excuse me -- this requires its own post. This man is eating the entire works of Neil Gaiman

Seriously. This man is eating the entire works of Neil Gaiman.

I don't quite know what to say about this...

(Thanks to my pal Jessica for the heads-up!)

It's just the kind of day to leave myself behind...

So as I said, Julie's on spring break this week but took off to be with her boyfriend on a really cool trip to New Hope, PA...and woo hoo she's coming back here on Wednesday just in time to do taxes and college FAFSA forms with me. Gah. But before she left, she made me this awesome salad for lunch and I just had to take a picture of it. Julie makes Martha Stewart look like Paris Hilton.

Eww...that's some analogy. I get the creeps thinking of either of them let alone both.

Oh no, now I just got a gruesome mental image of the two of them mud wrestling.

Help me. Please. Make it go away.

Sigh...I am just not normal.

So I got some awesome news today - Borders Books will be carrying Three Days in New York City in their bookstores nationwide and this bodes very well for the soon-to-be released sequel. I'm so psyched!

Also, yeah, yeah, make fun of me for my Google addiction all you like, but today I found an interview I did last year that's just been published. It's full of fun facts as usual but I have to be honest, I did this so long ago I don't even remember saying half those things. But I must have, huh. Anyway, the interview was conducted by a pretty cool author "in her own write" (What's this? Now I'm plugging the blog? I'm so shameless, aren't I?)...Glenda Woodrum.. Oh, and I can't help but notice that the interview says she's interviewing someone else -- Charlotte Boyette Compo. I wonder if that's a pen name I used while writing erotica intoxicated one evening? Hahahaha - nah, mine were usually funny, like "Cliff Rigid". This is probably just a webmaster cut and paste error. Though I really do like the name Charlotte...

Last night I dug deep into the archives and pulled out some Graham Parker. Stuff I hadn't listened to in a long time, like Don't Ask Me Questions and Soul on Ice. I forgot how fucking awesome he is. Only problem was I had my journal open and ended up using my pen as a drumstick instead of writing but oh well.

So as I mentioned yesterday, in May I'll be signing books at the RT Convention. Last year it was held in St. Louis and it poured rain for all four days so I was basically confined to the hotel and pretty shell-shocked because unless you've been to an RT Convention or done a lot of research before attending the first time -- which of course I never bothered to do -- nothing prepares you for the "experience". As I reported last year, authors and fans alike attend and dress in costume...in fact, that's what you do there...bring as many costumes as you can and they can't just be on the order of dressing all in black and merely wearing a black mask like I'd be inclined to do...this is like a major and I mean major gay Halloween bash. And RT is a mish-mosh of writers - Chick Lit, Romance, Erotica, and Paranormal (vampires)...so the costumes reflect that. Hmm...maybe I'll just go as different Chick Lit book covers.

Right.

This year I got really lucky. The convention is being held in Florida and I get to stay at this gorgeous beach front hotel!. So I'm pretty thrilled about that. It's been a long, long winter.

Anyway, the costumes really come into play at the various parties thrown by different publishers each evening. So I thought I'd list the parties which I'm expected to attend and the theme...and while I am going to come up with costumes for each on my own, you can let your own imaginations wander as to what you would do if you were me...

Ellora's Cave Fantasy Party
Wednesday, May 16, 2006
9pm to Midnight
Ballroom

This is the opportunity to live the dream
and dress up as your most bewitching,
outrageous and alluring “secret” self!
Anything goes … and an EC party will be wild!

Okay, this is obviously my favorite party theme. Any guesses as to my alluring secret self? Ha!

Now this next one is a little dicey...

Vampire Caribbean Ball
Thursday, May 17, 2006
9pm to Midnight
Ballroom

Come as your favorite pirate, serving wench, vampire, or swashbuckling hero

I'm thinking serving wench. Oh god help me. This is when I really need to be twenty years old again. I know. I'll be a swashbuckling heroine -- Groupie Mom!

Oy.

Oh, by the way, you do these things (costumes, party) to sell books. The convention culminates on the fourth day with a huge book signing/sale so you go to the parties all week and mingle. Last year, I didn't figure that out until the last day when I sat by myself wondering why other new and fairly unknown authors had long lines in front of their tables and others did not.


Okay, moving right along to the next party...and don't hold this against me, but I'm liking this one more and more:

Faery Ball
Friday, May 19, 2006
8pm to Midnight
Ballroom

At the Faery Ball you’ll find ferns and wildflowers covered with dew, essential for drinking and strengthening fae creatures’ magic, and traces of pixie dust all about.

Faeries are drawn to toads and frogs, dragonflies and bugs. They are each other’s companions. Flowers and herbs, thyme, foxglove, bluebells and fern, all assist them in moving between the Land of Fairy and the human world. The three-leaf clover is especially cherished by Fae…but not the four! It is said that to keep a four-leaf clover yourself, will give you the faery sight, as will the sipping of calendula tea.

In the world of the ancient Celts, people believed the world of the living and the world of the dead exist side by side. Only a thin veil separated them. One night in all the year, the veil is lifted. We can suddenly “see” that we are standing right at the edge, where the two worlds meet. And on that night, souls can cross over, go back and forth across the threshold. So brush off your wings, polish your wands and collect some Faery Dust and start creating your costumes for an unforgettable night of magic.

For costumes and accessories visit conniescostumes.com or email Connie at: connieperry@cox-internet.com

Holy shit...for this one you need a professional costume person? And I was just going to don a set of wings...

Now the following is the one that really scares the crap out of me the most and by the title, you'd think it would be the one I'd be most looking forward to, but, um...NO.

Dorchester Publishing's Racy Rock and Roll Party
Saturday, May 20, 2006
9pm to Midnight
Ballroom

This year’s theme for Dorchester’s annual RT party is “Biker’s Race Into The ’60s.” Think “Leader of the Pack” by the Shangri-las meets the Daytona 500 Speedway! Decor will include checkered flag table cloths and pitstop centerpieces plus a bevy of surprises. A DJ will spin ’60s, ’70s and ’80s tunes for non stop dancing! As always, Dorchester will be giving away great free gifts for all attendees and a fun food spread for all to enjoy. Prizes will be given away for the “Best Biker” costume, the “Best ’60s” costume, the “Best Speed Racer” costume and a few others we’re still working on. Let your imaginations go wild … as only a real Romance Reader can. So get your black leather and your tie-dyes dusted off … it’s time to party. Several Cover Models and 14 gorgeous Mr. Romance Pageant contestants, as well as the newly crowned 2006 Mr. Romance winner will join in the fun for a night of pure fantasy!

Oh. I'm in serious pain over the above, and the Saturday night party is the biggie so there's no way I'm getting out of it. Can you say "massive doses of Valium"?

And finally we end with...

Wait. I changed my mind. This one is my favorite:

New Concepts Publishing, Inc.
Sunday, May 20, 2006
7pm to 11pm
Dream Lovers Pajama Party
Ballroom

Come as your favorite dream

This would be a good time for my daily Neil Gaiman mention, huh. And ooh ooh, I got the mirrored glasses photo when I just went to his site to collect the link.

Sigh...

Later,
xo