Category Archives: catacosmesis

Catacosmesis

Catacosmesis (kat-a-kos-mees’-is): Ordering words from greatest to least in dignity, or in correct order of time.


I woke up. I laid there for awhile thinking about my first wife and all the bills I had to pay. I finally got up, peed, headed to the kitchen and made coffee—rich powerful coffee. It woke me up and made me poop. Coffee’s the most amazing beverage in the pantheon of drinkables. I’ve been drinking it since I was 17 when my Uncle Randolph showed me the way. I had been kicked out of school and my parents made me work with Uncle Randolph restoring my Grandma’s roof.

I poured my cereal into my Bozo the Clown bowl I’d had since I was six. This week I was eating Maple Puffs—they have a picture of a maple tree on the box and the inscription: “No trees were killed in making this delicious natural cereal.” I always wondered what was killed—truck drivers delivering Maple Puffs in Alaska? I dumped in the milk—“Nature’s Life.” It tasted good, so I kept buying it. It had a picture of a stampede of milk cows on the carton with fire blowing out of their nostrils, some with milking aparatus still hooked to their udders. So, I finished breakfast and headed for the shower, but first, I pooped. As usual it stunk, so I sprayed air freshener and turned on the exhaust fan.

My shower was my favorite part of the day—hot water blasting me in the face and butt like a cloudburst in Death Valley, where I’m guessing the rain is hot. Next, I turn off shower, dry off, put on deodorant, comb hair, brush teeth, shave, put on my new aftershave: Night Pecker. I didn’t care if it was intended for night: I was always ready for action anywhere, all the time, and that included work.

I got dressed. I was sharp. I was still cool with the clothes after forty years. I pulled on my black Haines underpants and socks and turtleneck-T. Today, I’m wearing my denim suit—baggy with giant bell bottoms two feet wide and high-heeled Frye cowboy boots—considered a valuable antique in some circles.

Time to go to work at Fred’s Zero Sum Games, where I’d been employed ever since I can remember. Instead of emphasizing winning, our games emphasize losing. So, I get in my car, a rusted and dented red Corvair. I turn the key to get the car started and get going to work. Nothing happens. It’s probably the squirrels again. I walk around to the back of the car and lift the hood. There’s a nest of mice under the hood. I get the lug wrench out of the trunk so I can beat the baby mice to death, but I change my mind. I go inside and get my cat Clarabell. I throw him under the hood and he turns and hisses at me. The mother mouse shows up and rubs noses with Clarabell. Together, mouse and cat carry the babies away from the car and into my tool shed. I look under the hood and see the spark plug wire that had become dislodged. I popped it back on the spark plug, got in the car, started it, and drove off to work. As I pulled in the parking lot, I wondered how many other alliances Clarabell had made. One day, when I was home from work sick, a bear came to the back door.


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

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Catacosmesis

Catacosmesis (kat-a-kos-mees’-is): Ordering words from greatest to least in dignity, or in correct order of time.


I thought I was a king. Then I thought I was a prince. Now I know I am a homeless man. I live on the street. I live in an alley by a restaurant. I rummage for food three times a day. There’s always something to eat, but it isn’t very good. I long for the days when I thought I was a king, or even a prince. I had a family. Now, I sleep under a tarp on the pavement.

I had friends. I was pretty happy. Then, this clicking sound started in my head. I couldn’t focus on work. I couldn’t focus on anything. I was driving my wife and daughter crazy. I quit my job. After a year, I ran out the front door with nothing but the clothes on my back. Now I hear clicking and static in my head. Oddly, the static helps me sleep. Tomorrow, I’m going to the free clinic to find out what’s wrong with me. Right now, I feel crazy. Tomorrow, I may feel sane, but I doubt it.


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

Catacosmesis

Catacosmesis (kat-a-kos-mees’-is): Ordering words from greatest to least in dignity, or in correct order of time.

There was a president. There was a con artist. There were one million lies. There was a filthy pig. All the same person–the poor character, the bad genes, the twisted upbringing–all the same: evil. Evil in the morning. Evil in the afternoon. Evil all night long.

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

Catacosmesis

Catacosmesis (kat-a-kos-mees’-is): Ordering words from greatest to least in dignity, or in correct order of time.

It was dark. Soon it would be daylight and we would resume our trip, but first we’d eat breakfast, have some coffee and get dressed. Today, like yesterday, was going to be hot. I would wear shorts and a t-shirt and so would my wife. Our camper van didn’t have A/C. So, by the time it hit 9.00am it was uninhabitable. We had to drive the van until night’s coolness and find a place to pull over and rest.

This ‘trip’ has been ongoing ever since I robbed a gas station outside of Palmdale. We had probably traveled nearly 1,000 miles–every day the same: get up at sun up, drive all day, stop after dark. We didn’t know where we were going, and it was almost certain we would be caught by local police or highway patrol. We didn’t care. We had a pile of handguns between us on the seat.

I started calling myself Clyde two days ago and Barbara followed suit with Bonnie last night.

I don’t know why we want to die, but I do know we want to do it together.

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

Catacosmesis

Catacosmesis (kat-a-kos-mees’-is): Ordering words from greatest to least in dignity, or in correct order of time.

There is darkness. There is light. There is a beginning. There is an ending.

I sit on the scar–the red crooked scar dug into my body by my cruel questioners. They called it enhanced interrogation. I called it torture.

I did not have, do not have–I will NEVER have–the answers they were looking for. So, I lied to get out of hell. And then, I travelled light, mostly under cover of darkness, and after a few days, I crossed the border.

And

I am free now. A refugee welcomed to your country with open arms, smiles, food, shelter, clothing. I call what you’re doing for me ‘enhanced charity.’ You call it ‘what we do.’

I am grateful–first, to be alive, and second, to be here among such a wonderfully humane group of people. Thank you for helping me apply for a visa to settle in Canada so I may be reunited with my wife and daughters.

Thank you.

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

Catacosmesis

Catacosmesis (kat-a-kos-mees’-is): Ordering words from greatest to least in dignity, or in correct order of time.

The fire ignites and speaks in fierce crackling flames. But now in the darkness its silent ashes are all that remain.

Time is a knife that shaves us away until nothing is left but a sliver in bed.

Fearing the silence, the dawn, day, and night, I moan at the wall, “There is no Phoenix. There is no cure. Bring me water and morphine and vodka and meat and wrap my dead body in a fine golden sheet.”

The wall doesn’t answer. The wall doesn’t care. The wall is a wall. It just stands there.

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

 

Catacosmesis

Catacosmesis (kat-a-kos-mees’-is): Ordering words from greatest to least in dignity, or in correct order of time.

Three steps you can take to protect yourself from on-line spying: 1. Voltage SecureMail Cloud Standard ($99.00), 2. Disconnect from the Internet, 3. Die.

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

Catacosmesis

Catacosmesis (kat-a-kos-mees’-is): Ordering words from greatest to least in dignity, or in correct order of time.

Birth, infancy, childhood, adolescence, adulthood, old age. Life’s phases narrate time.

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

Catacosmesis

Catacosmesis (kat-a-kos-mees’-is): Ordering words from greatest to least in dignity, or in correct order of time.

Years of hard work, months of anguish, days and days and days filled with hope and fear and loss and gain, and today, we stand at the threshold of a promise fulfilled. Tomorrow, we go home.

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

Catacosmesis

Catacosmesis (kat-a-kos-mees’-is): Ordering words from greatest to least in dignity, or in correct order of time.

From start to finish that was the best soccer match I have ever seen!

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

Catacosmesis

Catacosmesis (kat-a-kos-mees’-is): Ordering words from greatest to least in dignity, or in correct order of time.

From sunrise to sunset–sunset to sunrise–morning, noon, and night–there is no time that is not the right time for eyes-wide-open vigilance.

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