I haven’t written fiction in a while. Not because I’m not interested, but my discipline had long ago went on sabbatical and never returned. Writing requires discipline. Inspiration helps, but inspiration alone leads to unfinished stories and ramblings. Like any serious endeavor or pursuit, the work must be done. Every writer has their own method and time of day to write. For me, it’s the early morning—that moment when I should still be asleep, when it’s dark outside. I believe it helps because I can pull from my dream state, or at least I tell myself that, and it works.
Leonard won’t leave. The days of boozing and smoking in the heart of Austin’s boozehound district are long gone. Folks gotta grow up. I’m like one of the kids in the Toys R US commercial who doesn’t wanna grow up. I guess Leonard heard my thoughts. Only he would. Of all the people to invade my deepest thoughts and pleasures, it had to be him. Damn Leonard!
I gave up football in 1993, a sport I loved playing and watching. For many years, I blamed the Houston Oilers.
On January 3, 1993, I was walking around Edgewater Mall in Biloxi, Mississippi,. I was a young airman stationed at Keesler Air Force Base, and spent the weekends using my new credit card at the mall while checking out the girls. While strolling around, I caught part of the Oilers-Bills wild card game on television. The Oilers were playing better than they had in previous years. The first part of the 80’s weren’t good for them. They lost coach Bum Phillips in 1980, who had helped them make it to the playoffs in the late 70’s during the “Luv Ya Blue” era.