Congeries

Congeries (con’ger-eez): Piling up words of differing meaning but for a similar emotional effect [(akin to climax)].

Dizziness. Flatulence. Itching. Constipation. I’m not Santa Claus. I’m not Mick Jagger. I’m not Ward Bond (he’s dead). I am just an old man with the usual maladies. I watch TV day and night and wait for the phone to ring. It’s either going to be the Angel of Death or another damn bill collector. My kids never call me. My car was impounded by the state police because I had been ticketed 12 times for driving 25 “or less” on the freeway.

My Social Security check covers my rent, five cans of tuna, five cans of beans, one gallon of milk, 2 boxes of Fruit Loops, one loaf of day-old bread, and one bottle of Bakon Vodka per month. I dropped out of Meals on Wheels because the volunteer delivery lady wanted to have conversations and asked too many questions.

My wife got our whole nest egg when she divorced me—she found out I had an “extra” child with our cleaning lady and that was enough to win her the whole enchilada, which was substantial.

Pain. Anxiety. Emptiness. Anger. Sorrow. These are my golden years: the sun is setting over the pile of shit my life has become.

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu). Bracketed text added by Gorgias.

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