The Ultimate Punctuation Mark

Language and grammar are dynamic; ever-evolving; adapting to new usage, current trends and fads. There’s no reason to pass judgment on this, as many academics and publishers of dictionaries might presume to do. You can’t set language and punctuation in stone any more than you can declare that the sun will shine every Monday or outlaw oxidation.

Do you remember the interrobang?

While it didn’t really catch on, it did address a gap in our ability to have a final punctuation mark reflect the entire mood and intent of the language that preceded it. It’s a combination of a question mark and an exclamation point, allowing a statement to both act as a query and express awe, amazement, excitement, marvel, wonder, approval, acclaim, shock, and so on.

What in the world is going on with the Catholic Church and organ trafficking?!

Now, I should have been able to put an interrobang at the end of that exclamatory question, but as I said, it didn’t really catch on. At least, I can’t find it on the keyboard of my laptop.

The point is, as useful as something might potentially be for language and grammar, it’s actually impossible to dictate use and guarantee general acceptance.

So now I’m about to attempt the impossible.

Yes, I’ve come up with a new punctuation mark!

And without intending to blow my horn, bring undeserved attention to my genius, or capitalize on your gullibility as a reader of my articles, I’d like to say unequivocally that this innovative punctuation mark, aside from any other merits it might have, completely and thoroughly sums up the current mood — fear? despair? cynicism? resignation? — of a huge segment of the people living on the planet, the ones who have some idea what a horrible mess we as a species are now in.

Here it is . . .

Does it look familiar? It should.

An important question: Will it be useful?

A more important question: How long will it be around?

Maybe a better question to ask: If my new punctuation mark really does work, really captures the zeitgeist of our troubled times, how long will we be around to use it?

(Sure wish I had that damn interrobang on my computer. I could have used it at the end of that last question.)

[ This originated at the author's personal website . . . https://jdrachel.com ]

The Ultimate Punctuation Mark | John Rachel

Creativity: Writing Poetry

"Such torment and bitter 

       angst is my lot!"

Folks, I am deeply saddened __  perhaps a bit shocked.

I received several thousand complaints about my previous two "creativity" 
blogs, all objecting that they were rather light on actual technique.

I've gotten the message loud and clear. This time I will be very specific about 
the process of creating a poem.

Before we get started, I confess I'm having difficulty recalling why I started writing poetry.

Frankly, I hate poetry. I find it tedious and incomprehensible.

Aah! Now I remember.

It was an ad I saw a few years ago.





That sure didn't pan out.

But I did manage to crank out a few poems and at least got the hang of it. So here we go.

Writing a poem . . .

Rhythm is very important in poetry. So when I write poems I always wear headphones
with either Eminem or Lil John blasting away at 125 db. That tunes me
in to the naturally occurring "beats" of the English language.

I wait for a word or phrase to pop into my head. 

Tabula rasa. 

Cool.

Now I think of pop singers and movie stars.

Crystal Gayle . . . The Artist Formerly Known As Prince . . . Tom Cruise . . . Brooke Shields.

Excellent! A veritable goldmine.

I chop them up and throw them together, trying to sound deep and intellectual.

A gale reels topsy turvy / Unknown be the blind enigma / Who shield the
arrogant prince / Art shan't brook the prayers / Cruise lightly the
tabula rasa / Crystal now keens the water goddess / Hear the rumbling
tom tom / Why dost thou feed the feral beast?

Admittedly this makes no sense. So we're on the right track.

Now we find rhyming words for the first, third, fifth and seventh lines.

nervy / rinse / pasta / condom

Next we create lines ending in these words.

Conscience writhes a hollow nervy / Invisible angels fear the rinse /
Yet twirl the Hades voidal pasta / Time warps he who pricks the condom

Notice that I made up a word. This is an excellent technique for putting your
readers on the defensive, playing on the fear that their vocabulary is
embarrassingly wanting.

Recognizing that rhyming, perhaps once the delight of
long dead poets, is now among the heady and hyper-cerebral denizens of
modern literary excellence laughably passé __ more the tinker toys of
vapid pop songsters __ it's time to dig out our good old Thesaurus,
either analog or digital will do just fine, and make some tasteful
substitutions.

Conscience writhe a hollow pluck / Invisible angels fear the cleanse / Yet twirl
the Hades voidal spaghetti / Time warps he who pricks the sheath

Insert these in the initial set of lines.

Okay. Almost done. Now we need a title. 

Tabula Rasa #??? 

Always choose a prime number. Let's see. '11' is such a cliche. '13' was ruined
by horror flicks. Bob Dylan screwed up '12' and '35'. They're not prime
numbers anyway.

How about? . . . 

Tabula Rasa #23 

Perfect! 

Okay, now formatting is of paramount importance. Modern poetry really
shows its inherent rebellious character here. Total non-conformity! Left
alignment is boorishly 17th and 18th Century, right alignment hackneyed
20th Century, and centering is for symmetry fetishists with terminal OCD.

Same goes for punctuation. Not that poets know how to punctuate in the first
place. But the point is why waste such a terrific opportunity for
abstruseness? Randomly scattering punctuation throughout the poem is the
perfect method for adding a tasteful dose of sheer madness and
syntactic chaos!

Alright! Let's put it all together. Behold our new masterpiece . . .

 

Notice how I slipped a near-rhyme in at the end. That should stir up some controversy!

Okay. That was easy, eh?

If you feel the need to verify my credentials, just click here and look at the several poems I've had published over the past few years. 

Scribo ergo sum.



[ This originated at the author's personal web site . . . http://jdrachel.com ]