Day 2: Letter to a friend
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Day 2: Letter to a friend

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Day 2: In the morning, the bright, rich light comes in, saturated with color and taste and fragrance like an old jazz tune sung by a beautiful, perfumed woman, along with the laughter and shouts of children at a nearby school.

Settling in, and already writing, after an escapade at the Monoprix and then a picnic lunch at my desk to research museums. I was just winding up, about to do an online yoga class, when a bustle arose in the hallway. I looked out my peephole; a man and woman argued with the neighbor. They handed her a brown-paper-wrapped package and left with an energy of, well, I can only call it grim determination.

The elderly lady lingered, staring down the hall after them, so I seized the opportunity to open my door. She gave me a cool glare and I murmured, “I thought I heard someone I knew…” I’m not sure she bought it because I was not-subtly focused on the still life painting on her foyer wall. I’m sure it’s a Cezanne, and not a reproduction. The solidity, the sense of order and structure; the colors of the apricots. I tried to memorize it so I could google it.

“You will come for tea tomorrow, Americaine,” she said. I was concentrating so fiercely that she had to repeat herself, then she slammed the door. What time does she want me to visit? Can I ask her about the painting? Inquiring minds want to know.

I didn’t find that particular work on-line, but there was a slew of similar paintings to be seen.

I trooped to the Louvre to see the Giotto exhibit–pure self-indulgence. Then one page at my computer. Alas, Jean-Sven stopped by with a bottle of wine, which he insisted was so delicious that I must sample it “tout de suite.” Turned out he has an excellent palate and then I had to offer him some cheese, peaches, and bread I bought at the market. We enjoyed the Chateau Neuf du Pape so much that he offered to bring down another bottle of something “tres belle” but I refused and then amiably but firmly saw him out to the hallway. I got that creepy feeling up and down my spine and I could have sworn the neighbor was watching us out her peephole! Well, you know how vivid my imagination is, having commented on it yourself, with that acerbic tone…

I remain, as ever, your devoted, and missing you quite fondly.

Til tomorrow….

Day 1: Letter to a friend
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Day 1: Letter to a friend

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Day 1: Letter to a friend

So, I am staying on a little street with multiple creperies, and managed to inhale a crepe with oeuf and fromage for lunch.

You’d be proud: I’m already integrating with the natives. I was lugging my suitcase up the stairs when a largish blond man offered to help. I demurred but he insisted so disarmingly that I felt obliged to please him by allowing him to hoist my bag over his broad shoulders. He introduced himself as Jean-Sven, and when I queried him about his name, he said his mother was French and his father was a Swede.

“Didn’t you scratch off the winning genetic lotto ticket,” I said. I’m not sure he got the idiom entirely, but it registered enough that he smiled all over himself. He’s my upstairs neighbor.

After Jean-Sven parked my suitcase inside my treasured sacred-writing-retreat apartment, I ushered him back out into the hall. Not to seem ungrateful to such a friendly chap, but I was eager to unpack and be, as Gertrude Stein championed, “alone with my language.”
I waved goodbye as he went into the lift and then found myself face-to-face with an open door, and the elegantly-clad elderly lady across the hall peering out fiercely, as if to memorize my face.
“Bonjour,” I said, politely.
“Americaine,” she grimaced, and slammed her door, but not before I caught a glimpse of some rather nice paintings on the wall behind her. Was that a real Cezanne? I need a closer look, but the whole look, the palette and even the frame, screamed Cezanne.

As to other notes, I notice that most of the denizens of this city of lights worship the Lung Cancer Fairy, who protects them from illness as they puff insistently on chains of cigarettes. I went for dinner at an Italian trattoria, where they almost kissed me when I answered them in Italian. Then they brought pasta with my mousse aux chocolate and tried to pretend that the rigatoni accompanied the dessert. We all laughed uproariously.

Til tomorrow, with my warmest thoughts!

 

Sexy

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Sexy

Some people have given me grief because I don’t like 50 Shades of Silliness.

I have a different sense of eros, evidently.

So to those who scoff, I say: here is sexy.


i know what love is from Geoffo on Vimeo.

UNIVERSAL LOVE: David Sklar’s Hit Song for THE LOVE OF MY (OTHER) LIFE
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UNIVERSAL LOVE: David Sklar’s Hit Song for THE LOVE OF MY (OTHER) LIFE

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So my friend, the talented composer David Sklar, loved the original screenplay for THE LOVE OF MY (OTHER) LIFE. He wrote a song for it, UNIVERSAL LOVE. Take a listen, it’s great! Check out David’s website at www.davidsklarmusic.com.

Also: Day 4 of the Blog Tour:  Simpson’s Paradox calls THE LOVE OF MY (OTHER) LIFE a “cute sci-fi romance.” See the review and ebook giveaway here.

Meg, who posted the review, declined to post the cover, saying, “This post is part of The Love of My (Other) Life blog book tour but you do not get any cover art here because it has a butt on the cover, and I don’t want your bookshelf to start getting too promiscuous.” (Which is a sly pun, in the context of her review.)

It’s fine with me if your bookshelf is promiscuous. My bookshelf is an unredeemed slut. Here’s the cover. Enjoy.

 

Great Review on Goodreads of The Love of My (Other) Life
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Great Review on Goodreads of The Love of My (Other) Life

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A smart reviewer on Goodreads thoroughly read, understood, and got my new novel, THE LOVE OF MY (OTHER) LIFE.

Here were some of her observations:

“Twenty four hours is how long it took me to read this book. It is really that engrossing.…

“From the very beginning, this novel is filled with the promise of interesting entanglements, delightful moments and new favorite literary bits….

“This is the story that answers “what if?” Every day we make choices. This is the magic mirror look at what would have happened if certain choices were made…

This is a scrumptious look at love, art, science and the many pieces that link into a helix that sweeps the reader into its orbit. “

Read the review here.
The Love of My (Other) Life
by Traci L. Slatton (Goodreads Author)

5583246

Marcy Peskin-Larkin‘s review

Jan 16, 13
it was amazing
Read in January, 2013


“Five days, fours hours and 22 minutes” is the babbling of a stranger who suddenly appears everywhere in the messy life of Tessa. Twenty four hours is how long it took me to read this book. It is really that engrossing.

Tessa is creative, bohemian, empathetic and in trouble. Brian is floundering, unkempt, confusing and persistent.

You need not believe in parellel universes. You need not understand physics. You need not appreciate fine art. You need not ever been part of the audience at a classical music recital. If you relate to any of these, you may find yourself connecting to a specific moment, a mention, a scene. Perhaps a passing mention of Blue Oyster Cult is where your connecting moment comes. Whenever it happens, is up to individual experience. From the very beginning, this novel is filled with the promise of interesting entanglements, delightful moments and new favorite literary bits.

Tessa, in today’s world, is struggling to keep her co-op after her husband has left her. She works for an elder-care program based out of a church. She has a strong affinity for the church which is suffering its’ own struggles. Money would solve both of their problems. Tessa connects to her seniors but in particular we learn about her relationship with Mrs. Leibowitz. Tessa has another task of adversity. She is an artist who has been in a blocked period. She has been unable to paint.

She collides with Brian on the sidewalk. He does not make sense. He seems to be suffering delusions. And his mutterings of “five days, four hours and twenty two minutes” is doing nothing to convince her of his sincerity. But since meeting him she keeps seeing potential paintings as she goes through the day. Incredibly no matter where she goes, he is there. More outlandish than his perpetual appearances, is his claims to be part of a parellel universe where he and she are more than just casually acquainted.

Tessa is skeptical of everything Brian has to say. She is more concerned with paying her back co-op fees, helping the church and reclaiming her art. But beneath her cynicism. or perhaps parellel to it, is interest. How does he know about her birthmark? How is it that he feels to be more familiar than a threat? How is it that he has unlocked her passion for creating art?

There are wonderful moments where words open up Tessa to believing. When she is spending time with Mrs. Leibowitz, the elderly woman says “Doing what you want is the prerogative of the dying. Should be the prerogative of the living, too, but it doesn’t always work out that way.” Then Brian “You always think you have forever, then you find it over before you realize.”

This is the story that answers “what if?” Every day we make choices. This is the magic mirror look at what would have happened if certain choices were made.

There are interesting secondary characters that fill the story and make it meatier. A flamboyant gallery owner, a professor’s dedicated assistant, a best friend off on a yoga retreat, a hooker with a defined adam’s apple, today’s Dr. Brian Tennyson, a black market art dealer, a dedicated clergyman, Apple Geniuses and more cluster around Brian and Tessa. In the span of five days, four hours and twenty two minutes there is adventure, guilt, passion, soul searching, kindness, death, rebirth and so much more. It is your prerogative as the reader whether you believe in the possibility of paralel universes. You will learn a bit about physics in the process of reading this book; “reality is non-local, and once two particles have interacted, they’re forever intimately connected in some way”. You need not be familiar with New York City to appreciate the locations referred to throughout. However, if you are, then the marble plaza at Lincoln Center is a fabulous setting for Tessa and Brian to explore the what if conversation. I find part of the scene there to be silly but the background of the spirits of symphonies, operas and ballets is perfect.

I refuse to be any more detailed than this in my review. I care not to throw in spoilers. Read and experience it all for yourself.

 
And remember there’s a Goodreads giveaway going on!
 
 
 
 

Goodreads Book Giveaway

The Love of My (Other) Life by Traci L. Slatton

The Love of My (Other) Life

by Traci L. Slatton

Giveaway ends January 31, 2013.
See the giveaway details at Goodreads.

Enter to win