Graecismus (gree-kis’-mus): Using Greek words, examples, or grammatical structures. Sometimes considered an affectation of erudition.
I felt like a million drachma! Everything is beautiful on the manic side of life. I feel like Archimedes soaking in a tub. I want to yell “eureka, eureka, eureka” over and over, throwing granola in the air like confetti with one hand and waving a little handgun with the other—a perfect combination: hope and fear, like dessert at an awards ceremony: an icy road to τρελός!
Oh, I never won an award. All the works, all the entry fees, all the submitting, all the meaningless honorable mentions—never a ribbon, never a plaque, never a cash prize. Just βλακείες, βλακείες, βλακείες ever since I was five. I started off crying when I didn’t win and advanced to donning my black hoodie and pulling out my black collapsible metal police baton that I brought in a gym bag to the event, knowing that “Plan B” was, as usual, going to be operative at the end of the event. As soon as I knew for certain I had lost again, Plan B kicked in. I slipped off to the men’s room to put on my μεταμφίεση, concealing my face and pulling out “Big Bopper” the baton to get ready to turn the tables.
I would wait outside the venue for my quarry; the soon-to-be disfigured winner. When he emerged, I lunged, swung the baton hard so you could hear it cutting through the air like the whip Mama used to use on the back of my legs whenever she felt like it, as punishment: 90% of the time I was clueless as to my transgression and Mama wouldn’t tell me. She’d say “You’ve been a naughty dog-poo William.”
With “naughty dog-poo” roaring through my head, I would severely beat the winner and gloat a little bit over my handiwork. Then I’d go home like nothing happened, clean Big Bopper, put my hoodie in the wash, pick out a Stouffer’s meal, microwave it, and stream “Ed Sullivan” reruns until bed time. This is when I felt really good, up on a manic cloud floating above it all like Zeus, invincible, αθάνατος!
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).
Buy a print edition of The Daily Trope! The print edition is entitled The Book of Tropes and is available on Amazon for $9.99. A Kindle edition is also available for $5.99.
The Daily Trope 