Long time, no C. I’m starting to lose it (again). Mainly because I don’t have the meds I need right now—which is hard to admit because my brain says I’m using the meds as scapegoat for not taking action and shirking all reasonable responsibilities. (The truth is probably closer to the pills and I are working in tandem to fully eff off on my pretty little life, and also I feel more like pretty little me on the lower dose, so responsibilities be damned.)
But that’s a post for another day.
I came here today to tell you that I found Jesus … I’m kidding! I started using 750words.com (which I’d been hearing about from Laura Belgray, one of my idols slash “mentors-by-proxy” who inspires me to get better at improve my writing be a better writer. She’s wickedly funny, teaches courses I keep putting on my someday-maybe (aka somedaybe) list, and whose book Tough Titties is on my TBR lists … Anyway, she talks about this site as a way to just get the words out. And I finally listened. Because “someday I’m gonna be a decent writer” is on my bucket list) for my morning word vomit. I pooped ’em out yesterday. And I did it again today. And yes, I’m mixing some very gross metaphors, but the words are coming out at both ends, you guys, so get over it!
Menta Lee Gone, b. 1981
Fueled by Cerebral Winds, 2025. Screenshot ripped from Microsoft Word document, doodled on laptop while procrastinating. 1724 x 694 px
In this unfiltered piece, Gone flirts with digital procrastination and neural leakage, inviting us to sniff around the edges of the unfinished. In essence, to smell what the brain hath funked.
Anywhatsit, I’m going to try and do it for another 28 days—that’s how long the free version lasts: 30 days total. Then I’ll see if I want to pay for the subscription, which, I’m pretty sure, I will because writing feels like flying right now. And I want to feel free.
Mentor-by-Proxy Defined and Digressed
Mentor-by-Proxy
Noun. A trusted counselor you follow digitally to hone your skills, but whom (yep, ‘whom’— not because I’m a grammar purist but because I’m kinda happy I learned how to use it and also I can’t wait till it dies so I wanted to publicly give it the goodbye it deserves: Rest in piece [sic], ‘M’ of ‘Whom’ fame, you really were the most pretentious dingleberry that ever lived. And here we are again, caught in another digression … within a digression. If I do ever do write a memoir, the style will be digressive inception—there’s gotta be a better name for that literary device, right?) you’ve never met.
Originally I was going to go with Mentor-Non-Proxy, but (because my malapropped skull is full of proxy = proximity & Munchausen syndrome by proxy = the one you’re closest to will prolly kill you) I figured it would be best to find the definition of “proxy” before committing to it, and the AI gods didn’t disappoint. They served up this nugglet: “a proxy server is a server application that acts as an intermediary between a client requesting a resource and the server providing that resource.” So there you have it: Mentor-By-Proxy. Okay, now back to the original thesis of this post (if ever there was one).
So I’m using the 750words site to let my brain roam, partly in hopes that I stop word-pooping in public like this. (It’s embarrassing.)
But also because I’m trying to improve my writing skills (can you count how many times I use the word ‘because’ in this post? Is that bad writing or is that voice? Someone, please, for the love of AI, tell me). I know I can’t improve without a writing practice. And probably not without readers, either. Right now, I just kind of want to throw word salad at the wall and see what sticks. And I’m not sure how irresponsible I want to be with my words in a public space. Don’t we have enough word diarrhea right now?
And yet, I still feel like I have something to say … I’m just not quite sure what that is, if it’s worth talking about … what conversation am I trying to have? So, I’ll keep dropping hot, steamy 750s in that private space for now. And maybe just pop in here every once in a while when I feel like I’ve got a firm grasp on … something. Or if I feel like I need someone to listen to me spew, then offer me saltines and 7-Up and gently ask if I’m taking my meds.
Or not.
PS, this post was just shy of 750 words (if I include the definition digression). So, I’m adding a lyrical little number to give me the juice. Put this to music if you’re feeling it, because I sure am:
blah-ditty-blah-blah. Blitty-dah-dah. 750-blah-blah. Wordy-ya-ya. Blah. Blam. Blah-blah.