Category Archives: astrothesia

Astrothesia (as-tro-the’-si-a): A vivid description of stars. One type of enargia.

“Twinkle, twinkle little star.” That was the first poem I ever learned. I would look out my bedroom window and recite it with my hands against the glass. Sometimes my sister or brother would join me.

On a moonless night, it was like the stars could draw me up into the sky. I could feel my body lifting into the night sky, although it wasn’t. It was just my little boy imagination.

Now, I am an old homeless man. When the weather’s warm, high on gin, I sit on a park bench and watch the stars. They swirl and change colors and reach down for me like pin pricks keeping me awake in the lonely night. I lay on the bench and watch the sky spin like a wheel of fortune, or in my case, a wheel of misfortune.

When I got home from Vietnam I was damaged. I started drinking heavily, cried all the time and punched my friends for no reason, out of nowhere. The VA made a valiant effort trying to help me—psychiatry and medications. But, I couldn’t stop drinking no matter what they did. As a drunk, I couldn’t take medications. So I dank gin and drifted further into mental disrepair. I cried. I punched.

It all came to a head when I managed to drag myself to my nephew’s 8th birthday party. I was drunk and had no present for Chuck. He asked me where my present was and I punched him in the nose. He was bleeding like crazy all over his face and down his Elmo T-shirt. He was crying too. I yelled “You deserved it you f*king brat.” My brother threw me on the floor and punched me in the face over and over. Then, he threw me out the front door and told me never come back or he would shoot me.

As I tumbled down the front steps, I realized I was hopeless. I realized I was a violent drunk. Now, I’ve been arrested countless times for being drunk and disorderly. Being locked up over night nets me a decedent meal and a shower, and I can watch the stars out my cell window—the sparkling little pinpoints embroidering the sky.

Despite my infirmities, I can clearly remember watching stars from a rock with my brother and sister at the mouth of the Damariscotta River in Maine. Before war poisoned my mind, I was a good boy. I loved my dog Bingo. When I was 19 I disappeared into the abyss of the US Army and have never been able to climb out. I will never be well. I’ll probably die on a park bench watching the stars spin around.

Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).

The Daily Trope is available on Amazon in paperback under the title of The Book of Tropes for $9.95. It is also available in Kindle format for $5.99.

Astrothesia (as-tro-the’-si-a): A vivid description of stars. One type of enargia.

I am sitting by my pool. It is around 2:00 am. There is no moon. There is no light pollution out here in the middle of nowhere where I live. It is dark! So dark that a can’t see my hand in front of my face. Lucky I wore my headlamp or I’d probably have to crawl on my hands and knees back to my house. It is warm. It is wonderful. It is totally dark!

Totally dark, except for the stars. The stars! The shooting stars pull threads of white light out of the sky. There’s one! There’s one! They never fail to excite me, like a child seeing one for the first time. My mother said “Look Johnny! That’s a shooting star!” As we sat on the rocks down at the point on an August night in Maine where our family had settled in the 1690s and built boats—from dorys, to sailing coasters and beyond. They saw these stars. They may have sat on those rocks and watched the stars.

One time I tried to memorize the constellations. I failed, like I failed at a lot of things when I was a kid. When I was a kid, I was a little off the mark, but not far enough to be put away. I was very close. Anyway, I memorized the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper and pointed them out to friends and family, like it was a major accomplishment, but it wasn’t.

Now, here I under that same sky. Nothing’s changed up there, at least as far as as I can see. Somehow my dog Gus has found his way out here. He nuzzles me with his big Airedale nose and then lays down at my feet. We are content. I look up at the sky again. I wonder how many there are. I am under the cover of a gentle shining beauty—not made to be beautiful, but beautiful nonetheless.

I look down, and Gus is gone. He has been gone for twenty years. But, when my soul is aligned with beauty and tranquility, he visits me.

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).

The Daily Trope is available on Amazon in paperback under the title of The Book of Tropes for $9.95. It is also available in Kindle format for $5.99.

Astrothesia (as-tro-the’-si-a): A vivid description of stars. One type of enargia.

It’s August in Maine. I’m outside. It’s 11.00pm. I look up. There is no moon. The sky is glowing with starlight. The dark black sky contrasts with the with the stars, or do the stars contrast with the dark black sky? Forever they’ve held the night, present since the beginning of time. They guide us. They delight us. They inspire us. We wish “upon” them.

That’s why I’m out here by the ocean tonight—I hear the waves. I see the stars piled together in the Milky Way. From the vast twinkling sky full of blinking stars, I must choose one to wish upon. When I look up, it has to be the first star I see. That will be my wishing Star. I look up and make my wish:

Star light, star bright,
First star I see tonight,
I wish I may, I wish I might,
Have this wish I wish tonight.

“Dear Star, I want a chainsaw.”

There, it’s done. Maybe I should’ve been more specific with a brand name, size, or color. I was hoping for a Poulin or Craftsman big enough to cut down the giant oak tree that was going to land on my parents’ house in the next big storm. I had worked one summer for a tree service “Sawdust Saviors.” So, I could handle the cutting. What was going to be really hard to handle is our neighbor. He owns the tree and he refuses to have it removed.

Two days later, a chainsaw showed up on the front porch. It was my “Plan B.” I was almost certain my star wish for a chainsaw wouldn’t work, so I had ordered a Poulin from Amazon. Two days after that an empty box with a note in it showed up on the porch. The note accused me of “double dipping” and I was prohibited from Star-wishing forever. I thought it was some kind of joke. Then I saw a garden gnome across the street giving me the finger. He disappeared in a puff of green smoke when I started to cross the street to talk to him.

I had seen him before, I had a history of mental illness, marked by hallucinations. I must’ve forgotten to take my medication. The last time I saw that Garden Gnome was when I had stolen my parent’s car. The gnome was riding in the passenger seat egging me on. I didn’t know how to drive (I was twelve) and crashed into the mailbox as I backed out of the driveway. There were other incidents, so my parents sent me to “The Parkdale Home for Wayward Lads.” I had just gotten home after being released and going to Maine.

I got up at 4.00am to prepare to cut down my neighbor’s tree. I waited until he went to work so he wouldn’t try to stop me. I put on my ear protectors and cranked up the saw. saw dust flew. The saw cut through the tree trunk like butter.

I miscalculated. The tree fell on my house, crushing the roof. I broke the plumbing in the upstairs bathroom and water was spraying all over. I heard laughter behind me and turned to see who it was. There was nobody there.

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)

The Daily Trope is available on Amazon in paperback under the title of The Book of Tropes for $9.95. It is also available in Kindle format for $5.99