Comparatio (com-pa-ra’-ti-o): A general term for a comparison, either as a figure of speech or as an argument. More specific terms are generally employed, such as metaphor, simile, allegory, etc.
I was on my way to San Jose and I made a wrong turn and turned around and made my way to San Jose, but got a flat tire and couldn’t find my AAA card. I was a Platinum-gold member and could’ve had the AAA Safari Crew carry my car on their shoulders to a gas station. I was angry. It was like I had stabbed myself in the foot with a kitchen knife tied to a broomstick—primitive but effective, to a certain extent. Butter knives are kitchen knives, but their rounded tips make them poor candidates for stabbing. I might’ve been better served by a sharpened toothbrush handle, like in prison or a demented dentist’s office—like a toothless man wearing a tuxedo and drool bib with flashing lights saying “You’re a wanker. I’m a Yanker.” Not too creative textually, but the flashing lights are a nice touch: like candles on a birthday cake or a fake campfire or a fake campsite, in fake woods with fake bears and deer.
I feel like I’ve veered off the track. It’s like yesterday. I couldn’t find the bathroom at my friend’s house. He caught me peeing out his bedroom windrow. Embarrassment had done me in again, I was too embarrassed to ask where the bathroom was. It is like you’re crushing inside, making your self-esteem into crushed gravel or even crushed glass. It is like revealing a birthmark shaped like a red stain—like raspberry juice dribbled on your belly around your belly button. Or, having your pants fall down at your wedding. Embarrassment grabs you by the soul with walnut crackers. You can hear your self-esteem cracking as you want to disappear from the face of the earth. The closest you can come in the US is The Thorofare in Wyoming. You can commit every faux pas in the universe without fear of being observed, except maybe by a squirrel. Back in 2020 I spent a week there farting in place. Got all the fart-barrassment out of my system. It was like a faucet that had only been partially opened, and was opened for the first time, rapidly releasing pressure and making the faucet feel free.
So anyway, everything is like everything else in some way. At the very least, they are all existing. Wow! I need to go to the library if I ever get to San Jose. But, I discovered my GPS only speaks English. It’s like I’m looking for salvation in a language I can’t understand. I know the freeway outside San Jose is like the valley of the shadow of death. It is hard to drive with a rod and a staff resting on the steering wheel—ha, ha. That’s supposed to be funny.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)
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