Brachylogia (brach-y-lo’-gi-a): The absence of conjunctions between single words. Compare asyndeton. The effect of brachylogia is a broken, hurried delivery.
Hope, trust, faith, beer pong, tattoos, perfume, cancer, living in a hot shopping cart under the viaduct on the outskirts of town. Visions on parade late in the afternoon every day but Tuesday. When it’s Tuesday, I always ask myself and the Viaduct Club, “Why no parade today?” I answer, “There’s never a parade.” There are never war veterans, scientists, fire fighters, bankers, tuna fish cans marching by with bagpipes, pianos, tambourines, Thule roof racks. Such a wonderful display of unfettered nuisance-making it was. I sob. I blow my nose. I am carried away from this dreary plane of existence as fire shoots out of my feet and I roar toward home. “Mission accomplished,” I said to myself. I don’t care if I ever go back there again. People made fun of my large hump, which on my my planet is considered a thing of beauty. However, my mission is accomplished. I fathered a child who will grow up to rule Earth. The child’s mother is named Marjorie Greene. She loved my hump.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)
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