“Don’t for heaven’s sake, be afraid of talking nonsense! But you must pay attention to your nonsense.”
                -Ludwig Wittgenstein, Culture and Value

                A few of you reached out to say you liked last week’s “nonsense questions.” To be honest, I liked last week’s nonsense questions. So I’ve been thinking about them, and dreaming up some new ones. I wouldn’t usually ask if my words today were more a creek or a hillside, but if I did ask, I’d say I wanted them to be clean water, running somewhere, quick and clear, but they actually felt more like mud. And when I managed to dig down into the mud and start trying to polish an Uproar draft, my words were more like rock. My hands kept scraping against them.  Scraping and fumbling. I talked to a friend, and she suggested a rock might be something that roots could wrap around and hold onto as they grew.
                If you asked if resting was more a watch that had stopped ticking, or a book on a shelf, I’d say that sometimes I lie down on my bed and do something when I should do nothing. Nothing is so wonderfully much: the light on the wall, the pull of my breath, the patter of someone walking by—a squirrel, a friend. When I watch something or listen to something, I miss that. So it’s the metal in the watch, I guess, whether the watch is ticking or not.
                This week’s a little different. I’m asking you for a question. The rules are simple, and a bit wonky: it should be a nonsense question. It should blur edges, dapple light, mix water with mischief. You can Facebook it to me, text it to me, send it to Azlan.Uproar@gmail.com. If I get some questions I’ll post them here for all of us, and answer at least one in the following weeks.
                And here’s one more for you: what does planning taste like?