Interrobangs & Anti-Prose

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Have a seat on the high-back armchair, pull up your knees, and uncap a can of San Pellegrino . Wait till it fizzles. Now let’s begin.

“Interrobang,” What a curious word, you think: exhilarating on the tongue, a tinge of aurora borealis, nostalgic of building sandcastles. Allow me to enlighten you. This remarkable word  is a combination of the exclamation mark, and the question mark.

You take a sip of soda, “huh”. Your left leg begins to uncurl from its present position — “Wait!” You pause expectantly. It originated from a comic strip in the 18th century. It was found in the kitchen of an unspecified graffiti-artist: under a box of high-carb cereal. That’s how it began. ~~Silence~~ . No, not actually. Just a trick graphic-designers have up their sleeve. And yet, it is a punctuation found scattered about the streets, in airplanes, and music boxes; it was invented by Martin K. Speckter in 1962.
It is found here, in this seemingly dull robotic text.
It is found underneath your pillow at night.
It is found within pages of Anti-prose.
You look up  from your beverage: Anti prose? not another strange word. No, not a strange word, not even a word. Two words in reality. Anti: against/not, and Prose: non-poetry.
Not-Non-Poetry. In short: poetry.
Why on earth does one need two separate words for “poetry”? you think. The word poetry was originally derived from the Greek word poiesis, which means “making”. A beautiful word, really.  But…what does it mean to people nowadays? The automatic impression for many individuals is a romantic art: abstract, and feminine. In the meantime, anti-prose is a word that brings out something of the craft’s harsher nature. Something that is Gothic, pure, and crystallized. Emily Dickinson may have been better suited to the word “poetry”, while Austin Kleon an anti-prose writer.
Anti-prose and interrobangs: the Ionic columns of literature, the pop-can lids, and the skate-board wheels. A new perspective on the alphabet’s clockworks.
The scent of night-crawlers and rain drift in through the gauze curtains.
You go find a pencil.

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