Wasted Days And Wasted Nights

I'm a week behind. But when aren't I? So, it's quite fine that I start a daily-blogging-for-a-month project six days late. I'm grateful that this nudge (they call it an "epicenter") even exists. It is time to exercise these muscles, and, much as one might dedicate oneself to build stronger triceps and traps, muscles that make the words go need to be strength-trained as well. Resistance and isometrics, in repeated (daily) reps, to...make the words go. Development of good form instead of recruiting of exterior muscle groups (thesaurus and Wikipedia), and controlling the weight of ideas, instead of allowing them to be huffed out in a workout flurry.

This month's theme at NaBloPoMo (which looks like stuff from the periodic table of elements to me) is "Look up."

I did several times today, mostly from the computer screen at a wall, or a person, or at nothing at all. On the way downtown, I looked up to the sky. Then I composed a sort-of haiku in my head. I chanted the words the rest of the bike ride so I wouldn't forget, and confirmed length (since I spent many months re-writing Moliere's Alexandrines, I instinctively go for twelve, not seventeen syllables) and wrote it once I got to a computer.

I saw three white objects in the azure sky: a jet, a bird, the moon.

So this counts. Day one (six). Done.

And now here's some Freddy Fender -- who, as an American-born Tejano superstar, might also speak out about things going on in Arizona these days, if he was around (R.I.P.).

No more of these. Thanks, NaBloPoMo!