The blog below...I love the way that sounds...the blog below behooved a reader of, where the Peter Baldwin story also appeared, to suggest that I might have been thinking of Vladimir Horowitz. I can hear Peter imitating the stage mother, "....will you finally listen to the great Horowitz?"

My problem is with Vladimir. Don't like the name. Never have. My Spell Check always underlines it in red. I'm sure there may be one or two Vlads who play piano, but the great majority are in Lubyanka Prison pulling nails out or in the Kremlin ordering worse.

Speaking of prison, I am currently editing a book against a looming print deadline, which feels something like being in an isolation cell next to the lethal injection room. There's even a chaplain, as it were, checking in every day to listen to my comments and confessions. For example, he reads this site, and it really upsets him when he sees a new blog entry. The main reason is that he is the author of the book, and related to that is the fact that a new blog entry means that I'm not...

....OK, so the book's on hold while I think for a moment. I could be playing a computer game. No thoughts there. Zero. Or I could be looking at pornography. Lots of thoughts there but confusing. How can three people actually do that? And where do you find a telephone booth these days?

But that's not what I'm thinking about. I'm thinking about the transition between Chapter Five and--

There's the phone. It's ringing. Betcha it ain't the Governor calling in a reprieve.