Category Archives: brachylogia

Brachylogia

Brachylogia (brach-y-lo’-gi-a): The absence of conjunctions between single words. Compare asyndeton. The effect of brachylogia is a broken, hurried delivery.

Roy Orbison is whining about crying on the Sirius XM 60s channel. I’m driving like a bat out of hell to Phoenix, Arizona from Elizabeth, New Jersey. The sky keeps flashing with heat lightening and I’m driving with the windows down. When I first put them down, everything on the seat and dashboard blew out the windows and disappeared. I thought about stopping and retrieving the worthwhile stuff, like my lotto ticket, but a voice in my head was yelling in a high-pitched whine, “Drive. Go. Move. Speed. You sorry bastard. You broken man. You asshole.”

I didn’t know why I was out here on the road, but I didn’t stop and turn around to see if I could find my stuff. I listened to the voice, and I kept going—driving, driving, driving, driving, night and day, day and night, west.

The sun set in my face and I kept going. Then it was dark, and the full moon made the green and white road signs cast shadows: “Phoenix 500 miles.” 500 miles!? WTF? Why not 5,000, 500,000, 5,000,000, 5 billion!?

I looked in the rear view mirror and saw something moving around on the rear deck behind the back seats—between the speakers.

It was a goddamn coiled up snake! I didn’t know shit about snakes. So, I couldn’t tell what kind of snake it was, but it was big and striped, and looking at the back of my neck. I had driven over 2,000 miles with a damn snake in my car! This is ‘snakes in a car’ I thought, as I tried to figure out what to do.

Any normal person would’ve stopped, jumped out of the car, and called 911. But I’m not normal—I kept driving 100 mph toward Phoenix. Now, 40 miles to go. I had an address in a GPS. In a few minutes I’d find out why $600,000 had been deposited in my checking account, why I had been summoned to the address in my GPS, and why there was a huge snake in my car, and that, by the way, had disappeared from the rear deck between the rear seats.

“Your destination is on right” said the GPS. There it was—a five star hotel. Up I went. I banged on the room’s door. I heard somebody say “Jesus Christ it’s him—as usual he’s friggin’ early.” It sounded like Joey Ice, a hitter for the Elizabeth crew.

The door flew open and there was Joey holding a Glock and smiling. He lowered the gun. “Welcome to Phoenix shitbird.” “What the Hell is going on!?” I shouted. Joey smiled again and said “Welcome to Phoenix shitbird.” “What’s the money for?” I asked. Joey looked out the window and quietly said “Welcome to Phoenix shitbird.” No more questions.

I didn’t know whether I was in deep shit or Nirvana and Joey wasn’t going to tell me.

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

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Brachylogia

Brachylogia (brach-y-lo’-gi-a): The absence of conjunctions between single words. Compare asyndeton. The effect of brachylogia is a broken, hurried delivery.

Tired. Hungry. Crazy. I peek out the broken window—the window broken by a single shot fired from across the street. It has finally happened—goddamn—another bullet whizzes through the window, killing the cat and lodging in the floor. My daughter cries uncontrollably. My wife stands up and moves toward the window yelling, “Who the fuck are you? What the fuck are you doing? What do you want?” She’s answered by a clean shot to the forehead, killing her instantly. My daughter and I will be dying soon and we know it. Regretful. Terrified. Resigned. We look out the window and silently wait.

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

Paperback and Kindle versions of the Daily Trope are available on Amazon.

Brachylogia

Brachylogia (brach-y-lo’-gi-a): The absence of conjunctions between single words. Compare asyndeton. The effect of brachylogia is a broken, hurried delivery.

Last year. Last month. Last week. Yesterday. This morning. This afternoon. This evening. Right now! I couldn’t stop wanting to go to Yankee Candle to buy some exotic scented candle to literally spice up what goes on around here when we’re alone together on a lonely country road in the front seat of my truck.

Those little pine tree hanger things really didn’t do the job and I was ready for a change.

So, look at my scented candle truck cab burner invention!

My only concern at this point is catching the truck’s cab on fire. That’s why I’ve made this tin-foil doohickey that looks like a little silver tent! If I’m right, and this works, I’ll make millions of dollars. I’ve named it the “Front Seat Fire Starter” after the passion it will arouse when lit!

Here, let’s fire up the prototype and see if we can set the front seat on fire!

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

Paperback and Kindle versions of the Daily Trope are available on Amazon.

Brachylogia

Brachylogia (brach-y-lo’-gi-a): The absence of conjunctions between single words. Compare asyndeton. The effect of brachylogia is a broken, hurried delivery.

Daytime. Nighttime. Morning. Noon. Evening. Lunch. Brunch. Breakfast. Dinner. Who cares?

There is no time that I’m not thinking of you.

You are my private poem, my aria, my ernest prayer, my favorite dream come true!

By the way, what’s your name? Ha ha! That’s a joke! (allusion to Jim Morrison).

You know I love you!

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

Brachylogia

Brachylogia (brach-y-lo’-gi-a): The absence of conjunctions between single words. Compare asyndeton. The effect of brachylogia is a broken, hurried delivery.

Trust me. I am your ambulance. Cane! Crutch! Wheelchair! Everything that shows I care. Electric chair. Firing squad. Beneficent God. iPod. Oatmeal. Black Seal. Golden rod. Ping pong. Overdose. Comatose. Medicare.

Now mom, here we go. With the Flow. Petroleum rivers. Gasoline falls. Diesel cataracts. Flaming gush.

You sign the waiver. I’ll pull the plug. Hush hush. No rush.

Here’s the pen.

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

 

Brachylogia

Brachylogia (brach-y-lo’-gi-a): The absence of conjunctions between single words. Compare asyndeton. The effect of brachylogia is a broken, hurried delivery.

Love, hate, fear, joy, anger, pity, hope, guilt, disgust–all banging together in his pulsing head. He was flipping out! He needed more than a vacation–he needed a medical leave.

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