I've Been Roman the Fallow Fields of Inspiration

I recently found one of my abortive attempts to write prose fiction, dated July 14th, 2000:

Tim brushed the hair from his eyes. He looked down, lifted his left heel off the ground and put his weight on the ball of that foot, rotating it lazily in the dust.

“So how’s Lynn?” He met Casey’s look from beneath his brow, his face nearly perpendicular to hers.

His hair was in the way again. Casey began to make her best non-threatening smile, but then thought better of it, pulling her lips back over her teeth instead. Nothing she did was going to make him relax.

“Lynn’s great. I talked to her last week. She’s seeing somebody."

As you can see, I didn't get very far. To the best of my knowledge, that was my last try. Perhaps a novel waits inside me, but it may die of an overdose before the debutante ball.

Bear Territory

Finally, we get a win over Stanford on the hardwood. Matt Haryasz played great for Stanford, but the Bears managed to get the ball to Leon Powe enough to prevail. It was fun watching those two great post players square up. Both are destined for the NBA.

And I even taped the game. Skylar wanted to watch it but it was after her bedtime. Taping is almost always a jinx. But perhaps, as Skylar suggested in making her plea to stay up late, she's a good luck charm to override all that black magic. The fact that she was tootling the Bears' fight song on the sofa at the end of Arizona's just-barely-managed victory may have been a sign. I need to get her watching more often. . .