Do you phone-in your brain power?

Maybe it’s an age thing...

…or the fact that my copywriter brain has spent millions of hours crafting different combos of ways to describe stuff over the years but – when you’ve written the same-ish sentences for decades you can get what I call, scribe fatigue.

Add the oily word salad of AI mediocrity to the world’s writing and I wanna eat my lashes just to try something new, ease the apathy perhaps.

Where are the dangerous words? The reckless descriptions of lust, political discourse, a roiling, angry ocean even on a polite summer’s day?

I wanna read and write words that arrest the norm, ya know? Collect powder-keg-laced verbs that detonate the droll and crucify cliches. See what I’m doing here? It’s not perfect. Probably even a little try hard too. No problem.

I’ll wear the criticism like a vintage McQueen and strut my stuff down that catwalk. Because in my own wordy way I’m fu**ing with the bots who make it their business to rot your neural pathways and mine.

Hand on my heart, all rhythm and some blues, this Phylosophy has been written in the spirit of scribe-y abandon. To write on the edge of what’s expected, to view expression like teetering on a tightrope, way, way up high, screw the altitude, look down, get scared. Embarrassed. Coy about my questionable turns of phrase.

Dance like no one’s watching. Write like no one’s judging.

Switch on the grey that matters and pluck something surprising outta your arsenal. Yes.