Sunday, December 12, 2004

This pretty much says it all...



If there's anyone out there who doesn't recognize this painting, it's Picasso's Melancholy Woman.

I'm taking a few days off to re-evaluate my entire freaking life.

No, seriously, I'm suffering extreme post-partum depression since I finished the first draft of The Tour and I've got to really throw myself into the edit, as well as write the sequel to Three Days in New York City as well as finish illustrating and writing a series of stories for one of my favorite magazines.

And have I mentioned my nine to five job is killing me? Another week like the one I just had and I may be able to apply for Social Security disability benefits due to stress and chronic high blood pressure (sad but true). Hence the remark about re-evaluating my life. Just how much does a fancy salary matter when I need to spend every morning gulping down half a bottle of Pepto Bismol?

So all that, and I think my kids will be extremely upset with me if I don't get my ass in gear and start buying them some Christmas presents and baking some cookies and at least putting on a happy face even though I'm slowing dying inside.

Worse, someone has to clean this house and I guess I'm elected. Oh do I ever hate domestic goddess duties, because as a goddess, I shouldn't have to demean myself thusly. I just started moving things around. Holy cow, I actually found a Tower gift card from last year I never used. That just doesn't happen!

Sigh...

Thursday, December 09, 2004

Julie's last Rock School show - a photo



(The kids play their final farewell concert in Philadelphia's Rittenhouse Square three days after our return. That's Julie above, looking very wistful, knowing that this time it really is her last show with the band.)

Thursday, November 18, 2004

Oy...



Yeah, so this morning was a total waste writing wise because I got sucked into blog reading again (damn you, you interesting strangers) and I am now about 10,000 words behind on my NaNo schedule...meaning, I should be at the very least at 30,000 words into my novel and I'm at around 19,000. So I've really got to do the marathon thing over the next couple of days because I'm a fierce competitor and after just reading that others have already hit 50,000, I feel like killing them all, those gloating little bastards.

Meanwhile, I can't even handle the premise that it's Thanksgiving next week and stores are all decorated for Christmas. All my brain can digest is Oh hell, this is the last weekend I can shop for anything without having to stand in a fucking line. Like shopping itself isn't bad enough.

It took me an hour to get dressed the other morning because I couldn't find two socks that matched. So I finally out of desperation go to the Gap, a store I personally despise, but it's two doors down from my office and they have the socks I like - 3 pair for $9.00. Cool, huh? Errr...no.

"Where's the socks?" I ask the clerk, after running around that stupid store for 15 minutes. I mean, they've been in the same spot since it opened.

"Oh, they're right in front. Can I assist you in your selection?" said the 16 year old sassy clerk with the shiny pink lip gloss.

Yeah, I need sock assistance.

"No thanks."

But she follows me anyway.

Wait. What's this? My socks are now 3 pair for $24.00? What the fuck?

"Um..maybe you can help me? These socks are $24.00?"

"Those are our special holiday socks," she beams at me.

"They look just like the ones I always buy for $9.00." I'm honestly perplexed. And pissed. I'm not cheap, but $24.00 for socks?

"No, no, look - these have a little decoration on the side."

Jesus fucking Christ.

So this is what I have to endure until December 26.

Anyway, regarding Thanksgiving, the good news is, we're just doing an intimate, immediate family dinner. Yes! I can cook my little heart out but don't have to clean the house to impress visitors. I can totally trash my kitchen and not care, which means I can bake bread, make 87 pies, pile the dirty pots and pans everywhere and then make everyone eat on paper plates.

Nah, just kidding.

Maybe.

Wednesday, November 17, 2004

I'm losing it...



I should be happy. All this stuff going on with my novel, two books in progress, yesterday I got not one but two emails asking for interviews - one from my absolute favorite college radio station for a 2-3 minute spot, the other from one of my favorite writers on behalf of one of my absolute favorite zines...and even better - I suddenly have all these ideas for short stories. So why do I feel like jumping out a window?

Oh right. My day job, which at the moment is sucking all the energy out of me and taking up all of my wide awake time. My continuing desire to split my life between a computer screen and traveling and little else is starting to overwhelm me. I've really got to figure out how to do this and soon.

Sigh...why can't I be a twenty year old trust fund kid? Or where's that white knight who will ride up on that big old horse and rescue me? Yeah, yeah, I know. That's a fairy tale.

Crap.

Monday, November 15, 2004

Night Train Reading



This was a truly awesome Bed & Breakfast in the truly awesome town of Kings Park, New York, but don't be deceived by the photo. There were no people who actually worked at this Bed and Breakfast. Never once during the two days I was there did I see any staff, maid service - nobody whatsoever - which was wonderful because all of the writers and guests for the Night Train event/reading had the place to ourselves.

(I must admit, for a brief drunken moment Saturday night, I wanted to be Keith Moon and get wild and trash every room. Why? BECAUSE I COULD! But I didn't, because I love Sue Henderson and Rusty Barnes and wanted to be invited back to Night Train events again. In fact, I was the one worried that we left a mess - dirty wine glasses, empty beer bottles, etc. and I ran around cleaning up after people went to bed, but I did not go so far as to wash all the dishes in the sink)

Also don't be deceived by the grounds. They were lovely, but not on acres as it appears in the photo and oddly enough, smack in the middle of a charming suburbanish fishing town in Long Island, surrounded by normal, residential homes.

I dug it to no end. It was the kind of inn you'd find in Europe. Eclecticly decorated with everything from antiques to oriental rugs to weird art (think a sadistic mother goose choking a chicken and I mean that literally) to our suite which had a lava lamp with little fishies in it. The main sitting room had a giant stuffed dead porcupine with its mouth open in horror, stuck to a cork board, over the entranceway. I'm guessing that's because...no forget it, I have no guesses. No guesses at all.

And ah, the suite. When we opened the always unlocked door (at no point did any of us have keys because as I said, there was no staff), the first thing that greeted us was a huge four poster bed. Behind that was a small dorm type room with two twin beds. There was a large sitting room with a fireplace and sofas and chairs and even a bookcase stocked with best sellers and a Scrabble game; and a giant kitchen with everything from a microwave to one of those old fashioned sandwich makers with which you make grilled cheese over the gas range.

The suite was on the lower level kind of, apart from the main house, which is where most everyone else stayed, so they just had bedrooms and shared a sitting room and kitchen. There were three of us in the lower "suite", which I immediately dubbed The Honeymoon Suite because of the rather large bed.

Anyway, here's the complete list of awesome people with whom I hung out, talked off their ears and listened intently while they talked off mine, and partied throughout the weekend: Sue Henderson, Ellen Meister, Pia Ehrhardt, Rusty Barnes, John Leary, John Warner, Gail Siegel, Paul Toth and cool wife Kathy, Terry Bain, Joe Young, Jeff Landon, Tom Jackson and his lovely wife Deb, Todd Zuniga, editor of Opium, and his significant other, Amanda, who I believe will now be poetry editor of Opium (gorgeous New Yorkers who look all of about ten years old) -- plus I got to meet Ellen and Sue's husbands, both handsome, kind and charming men! (Like who didn't know they'd have THAT at home).

The readers were just unbelievable. Sue and Pia read two powerful short stories each, Terry Bain, Paul Toth, John Leary and John Warner read excerpts from their brilliant novels and anyone reading this should immediately google them or write to me and I'll give you the links to their stuff because you should all buy their books and support them, plus, you'll be in for a real treat; then there was Jeff Landon, who lost his stories somewhere between Virginia and New York and ended up handwriting them from memory, and he was hilarious (one line in particular - he's talking about a love affair when he was sixteen and his girlfriend is begging him to "Make it last this time, baby" but of course "he never could"...and then Jeff made a side note to the audience "Oh, that is sooo not true" (and he said it in his really great southern drawl, and well, I hope I'm not forgetting anyone because the reading was so chock full of interesting people. Oh, Tom Jackson of Zoetrope and Night Train was a truly inspiring emcee for the evening. And I want to give a special shout out to John Warner, who somehow managed to keep his cool because he read at the end, just shortly prior to which a large, loud, rowdy drunk crowd showed up and basically almost drowned him out, but he continued on with poise and dignity. If it were me, I'd have stopped in the middle, turned around, and screamed SHUT THE FUCK UP ASSHOLES.

Yeah, sure. I'm such a wimp I probably would have started to cry, but he held his ground and kept reading and he deserves a trophy.

I also want to add that Sue's husband and his band provided the entertainment, and they were really cool and a lot of fun. People were actually dancing!

So yep, it was a great weekend. Networking, talking reading and writing, getting wasted...what more in life does one need?

Just one thing: Jeff Landon, baby, YOU SNORE. You snore so loud you make plaster crack. You make light bulbs break. You make ceiling tiles fall. I heard you snoring through a thick oak door with a TV on!

But you are great writer, dude, so we all forgive you.

Saturday, November 13, 2004

Leaving you with a story...

Okay, so I'm not missed too much while I'm gone, here's a new story of mine published just yesterday in The Beat UK.



Wedding Night

Friday, November 12, 2004

I Wish To Register A Complaint


I wish to register a complaint. That last excerpt really, really sucked. I lost my edge and got all sappy. God I hate when that happens.

That and I'm not really into it at the moment because I know I won't be able to get any writing in for the next two days which would normally kill me but I'm going away for the weekend to the Night Train Magazine event (no one reading this better be a stalker) and hearing and seeing some of my favorite writers/people so I suppose it'll be okay.

Jesus Christ, that was the world's longest sentence. Damn wine. No really, I'm totally psyched. The line up of authors is incredible: Susan Henderson, Jeff Landon, Pia Z. Ehrhardt, Paul Toth, John Warner, John Leary, Terry Bain.

Okay, I'll be quiet. I could be writing now. I should, huh.

Thursday, November 11, 2004

Three Days in New York City


So as I've been shouting from a few thousand rooftops, my novel will be available January, 2005.

Here's the link to the novel and my publisher: Three Days in New York City

Yay!

Wednesday, November 10, 2004

Ha! A new reason to live...


Cream Stirring Up 2005 Reunion

Vintage rock trio Cream will reunite for a string of shows next year at London's Royal Albert Hall, sources tell Billboard.com. The group -- guitarist/vocalist Eric Clapton, drummer Ginger Baker and bassist Jack Bruce -- played its final shows at Albert Hall before splintering in November 1968. Cream has not performed together since its 1993 induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

Billboard.com understands the trio will begin rehearsals after the first of the year, with an eye on a week-long run of gigs at Albert Hall. It is unknown if plans call for additional shows in other parts of the world. A spokesperson for Clapton had no comment.
************

So...anyone over in the UK willing to put me up for a week?

Tuesday, November 09, 2004

NaNo NaNo



Oy.

NaNo is killing me this year.

Who came up with this concept, anyway? A novel of 50,000 words in 30 days during the month of November. I still haven't recovered from the election for fuck's sake.

Where is all my past enthusiasm? I was pretty happy this morning when I discovered I had over 11,000 words written for The Tour, until I realized how off target I am. I need 25,000 words by November 15 to stay on track. This would be easy - 2,333 words a day - if I didn't have this fucking day job and I wasn't going to be away for the weekend.

So far this week, besides my job, I still have some editing on my upcoming novel; I have to somehow throw a press packet together for this weekend which means bribing my daughter because it involves the use of Adobe Photoshop and I am completely hopeless at that; I've been talking to my publisher actively about the sequel to Three Days and now that this has happened, I can't shut my brain off and I want to work on that; I have a bunch of stories to read and review for my editing gig at Philadelphia Stories, and normally, I would love all of the aforesaid but I have to do it all in conjunction with the every day, mundane crap I hate like bill paying, cooking, cleaning, etc.

Okay, I'm lying. I'm ordering pizza/Chinese food all week and kicking shoes under the sofa. And the kids have enough clothes so that I probably don't have to do the wash for another month.

But still.

I want to drop out of NaNo so bad but I can't. I'm Philadelphia Municipal Liaison.
Why did I take that on, too?

BECAUSE I'M A FUCKING LUNATIC!

I need help.