Warren Bluhm's Blog, page 13

High crimes and misdemeanors

I wrote this a decade ago at the conclusion of a little essay called “We’re all gonna die” (page 31):

“Refuse to be afraid. Resist the impulse to yield to the fear and let someone strip your liberty in the name of security and protection. Live like you were dying – because you are dying, someday, so better to live free than in chains.”

Our rulers successfully changed the subject when they got us to start arguing over masks and injections. We had been arguing over whether governors have...

The first day of Summer

We brought Summer home on Saturday, 11 days before the first day of autumn. Summer, of course, is our new golden retriever puppy, who takes the place in our home that had been held by Willow The Best Dog There Was, whom I expect to mourn until I join her in the afterlife.

(Does anyone seriously believe dogs don’t go to heaven? They are more deserving beings in every sense of the world. But I digress.)

Bringing a new pet into a home always comes with a period of adjustment, for everyone...

I am an impostor

Groucho Glasses © Oleg Dudko | Dreamstime.com

Oh, man, I’m not into this today. My brain is resisting the various promises I’ve made to write this or do that or make this call or research that. It feels so comfy just to sit and do nothing.

“You have been there and done that your whole life, fulfilling those promises, and see where it got you: A house full of stuff and no time to enjoy it.”

Oh, woe is me, right? The tortured comfy person, overweight and stuffed with self-pity.

“Ain’t ...

The miracle of a deadline

If you have followed my blog, you probably have seen this black banner I occasionally have flashed this year in moments of shameless self-promotion.

As the first day of autumn and the beginning of the fourth quarter began to approach, I started to sweat a little. I have made no secret of the fact that the banner is a tease for a book I have titled Jeep Thompson and the Lost Prince of Venus, and I have been plunking away at the story — my first novel in (ulp!) nine years — for quite some ...

A search for one thing

My mind wanders and wanders and runs off track and down rabbit holes. So many directions and so many tracks and so many holes!

Is there an advantage to focusing on one thing? Of course there is, but there is also a time to explore and to find other options and alternatives to the one thing.

Curly said, “One thing” is the secret — but which one? How do you choose? And should you choose? Is diversification and multitasking a better choice? Jack of all trades and master of none? Or the be...

The list against forgetfulness

[I set the alarm for seven minutes from now and wrote …]

There is a list of everything I want to do and have been asked to do and should be doing and could be doing and would be doing if I wasn’t doing this.

The list is long and not written down, so from time to time I forget what’s on the list until I’m asked how something is going and I have to confess I forgot to do it.

I could write it all down, but what if I happen to forget something and eventually have to admit I forgot even ...

Does the author have to know whodunit?

I “read” the classic Hercule Poirot mystery Murder On the Orient Express audiobook this week during my commute to the day job. Poirot and David Rosenfelt’s Andy Carpenter series have been my light “reading” this summer.

I had the advantage over Christie’s famous Belgian detective because I remembered the gist of the solution from memorable adaptations on the big and little screens, but even knowing whodunit, the novel is a lot of fun and shows Christie’s ingenious imagination at its peak....

winter

I am a gentle snowfall
a breeze making me dance
and a cool (not cold) night
by the water.

Do the deer rustle in their sleep
or is that a night prowler
foraging for odds and ends
in the shadows?

Too quiet for melancholy
I cover last week’s snow
with a fresh coat of chilly paint
without a sound.

Not a stirring within or without
To cut the peace apart, so all rest.

cried the poet

“Not enough,” cried the poet. “What I have done is never enough.”

“Calm down,” whispered his soul. “It’s not for you to say what is enough. Keep growing, keep practicing, keep on, spread what joy you can, sow the thoughts in rich soil, and tend the garden and see what you harvest.”

Give and receive

Every day we give of ourselves through our work, producing something of value that did not exist until we did so, whether it’s a Quarter Pounder with Cheese or a theory of relativity. We are compensated for that work under terms that we agreed to when we signed up to perform the work.

You did not steal from me when you took my bucks in a peaceful exchange for the burger. My life was enriched because I had a decent meal, and your life was enriched because you earned a few pennies for your ...