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Chocolate Ice Cream’s Alleged Exacerbations of Anxiety
by KJ Hannah Greenberg


Because they can, wonky grandmom word slingers frequently fluctuate between informative and funny. One day, they’re staid, the next, they’re focused on farce or slapstick. Pratfalls and parkour become their hokey pokey in places where character development and nuanced tone customarily hold sway. Timeworn wordies employ vacillating writing because they know that it is as yummy as frozen treats.


However, whereas most graying wonders are not convinced that chocolate ice cream causes exacerbations in anxiety, and as such should be consumed in limited quantities, the realm of publishing remains poised against mature folks’ verbal ministrations, no matter those comforts’ taste. Convergent media, too, conspire against aging word whackers, especially when said soda fountain operatives dare to scoop out sticky concepts. Hence, despite personal and collective decades of literary umph, grandmama authors know no peace.


Sure, a minority of editors, when interacting with senior ladies of literature, refrain from: concealing their rhetorical toppings, turning off their verbal custard machines, or making sure that all of their contributors’ portions are exacting. Yet, even those generous industry insiders, when miffed about opened toilet lids, overcooked chicken, wash loads gone cloudy, or different private casualties: broadcast just their friends’ work, create themes only approachable by marauding, invisible hedgehogs, or elsewise shut out white hairs. There’s little social condemnation when curators compensate for their subjective unhappiness by excluding old-timers.


So, as to not be “so quick to get rejected,” oldsters have taken to using pseudonyms, to refusing to provide headshots, and to saying nothing, regardless of how scintillating, about their birthdates. Moreover, OAPs send janitors, caterers, and laundresses to their favorite troubled gatekeepers and rewrite like crazy (“everyone” knows rewriting is the new black). A change of phrase here, or an additional example or ten, there, make most matrons’ work “suddenly” appealing to frustrated commissioners.


Pensions can accordingly shrug and sidestep professional balderdash because they’re regularly high on stylistic whipped cream. It’s a matter of savory mousse for them to wiggle their fingers at people who control access to electronic, audio, and print ports, at individuals who mistakenly, fickly naysay textual ripeness. It follows that the written offerings of elders sashay like the flamingos depicted on early morning horror shows; they semantically stream low while concurrently lining up in harmony with erudition’s syntactical forces. Such positioning, while not psychedelic, often induces readers’ hallucinations as well as bonus expansions of consciousness.


Consequently, silvered scribblers stay disreputable for their storybook sweets, for their tendering of vivid, unconventional perceptions. They continue on as notorious, too, for purposefully rocking their primary audiences’ heads hard enough to gain access to their ideas, for their secondary audiences, i.e. bibliophiles and pretend furze-pigs. It’s advantageous that skewwhiff grannies don’t care about calories or nutritional content.


In sum, developed word players cope by exemplifying the best of style guide applications simultaneous with shaking manuscripts in edgy ways.  It’s a wonder that anyone’s surprised when those wrinkled writers take more expository risks than ice cream jocks have flavors (rainbow sprinkles excepted).


*Some ideas and phrasing are taken from: “Fluctuating between Informative and Funny.” “Hannah’s Monthlies.” KJ Hannah Greenberg Website. Jul. 2013.



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