Abating: English term for anesis: adding a concluding sentence that diminishes the effect of what has been said previously. The opposite of epitasis (the addition of a concluding sentence that merely emphasizes what has already been stated. A kind of amplification).
I was an influencer, but not the kind I wanted to be. I had terrible bad breath. I had a five foot radius. I was grateful for the Covid epidemic, when wearing a face mask was normal. Former, it filtered my oral stench and I was able to gather as close as one foot before the stench was detectable. But, when masks were no longer required, I had to put mine away or look like an idiot or somebody from Japan who with. a cold
I was born with “Oral Stink Syndrome,” an extremely rare genetically induced medical condition. it is manifest as an inoperable cyst in the brain with a duct in the roof of the mouth dripping on the tongue. The smell is beyond words, but “rotting flesh” comes close. The boy thing temporarily quells the stench is smoking cigars. Accordingly, I smoke 10 cigars per day.. I prefer DeNobili cheroots—an Italian-style cigar that I’ve been smoking since I was eleven. When I was a kid, I had a physician’s note permitting me to smoke in school.
Whn was a baby, my mother had a six-foot grabber specially for bottle feeding me. she had a high powered fan mounted on her chair so she could blow away my stink when she cuddled me for five minutes every day. She ware an Army surplus gas mask when she changed my diaper and took me for walks in my stroller. As I got older I wore a laundry bag with two eye holes cut in it. We would go for walks. We called it my “Ghost Suit.” As I got older, I wore a balaclava with a filtered mouth hole.
Now I wear nothing, although the pandemic is an exception. Right after the pandemic, I went to a self help workshop: “Be Yourself Whimpo!” I was still wearing my germ deterring mask. When sat down, the Facilitator pointed at me and yelled “what are you, the Lone Ranger? Take off that mask and be yourself!” I was freaked out and ran out of the building. When I outside, I said “Fu*k it!” And tore off the mask. This is actually how I came to go free-face: it wasn’t about post pandemic norms—it was about my lust to be me.
As I walked down the crowed sidewalk people got out of my way, retching. I discovered from a similarly afflicted uncle that sheep are affected by his breath and he herds them for a living. So, that’s what I do now. I am quite happy, but lonely too.
Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu.
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