NOTES FROM THE DUMP

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

I GOT A SHORT FUSE AND A BAD TEMPER...

(First I wrote this in English…more or less…)

...but I no longer have the horsepower to back it up. Push comes to shove, I'm sunk…so these days I tend to blow fuses and throw tantrums at home alone, with only the walls to witness the childish/churlish display of outrageously inane behavior, a case study in Type A male running amok, me the sole victim...perp & victim rolled-in-one.

Little wonder I live alone...one night Betty gave me a ride home to my little hovel and upon entering the dimly-lit-with-a-red-bulb, former chicken coop I lived in and called home, immediately I saw a painting was missing, a big one, no way I could've misplaced it, it was gone - oh, incidentally, at this point my relationship with Betty was about six beers and four hours old and I was plumb ready to get cozy with the little beauty but the minute I saw my painting was gone I flew into a rage and began screaming bloody blue murder and yelling and hollering into the late night sound-asleep neighborhood, and, not that anything else was needed, but for emphasis I began flinging pots of paint Pollocky around the walls of the chicken coop and when last I saw my main squeeze Betty, well, with a screeeech of tires, she was hightailing it up the driveway in her slant-six Dodge and even though I couldn't see her I just know she was wiping her brow with the back of her hand and going, "Wheeeew, fuckin' head case...lemme outta here..."

(…then had it translated into Spanish by Babelfish.com)

CONSEGUÍ Un FUSIBLE CORTO Y Un MAL GENIO... ... pero I tenga no más de largo los caballos de fuerza para moverlo hacia atrás para arriba. El empuje viene empujar, yo es hundido... tan actualmente yo tiende para soplar los fusibles y para lanzar las rabietas en el país solas, con solamente las paredes para atestiguar la exhibición de childish/churlish del comportamiento indignantemente necio, un estudio de caso en el tipo amok de funcionamiento del varón de A, me el perp único de la víctima... y a víctima rodar-en-uno.

Poco me pregunta vive solamente... ... uno noche Betty dio yo paseo hogar a mi pequeño hovel y sobre entrando de'vil-encender-con-uno-rojo-bulbo, anterior pollo tonel yo vivió adentro y llamó hogar, inmediatamente vi una pintura faltaba, grande, ningún could've de la manera I la colocó mal, fue ido - el oh, incidentemente, a este punto mi relación con Betty era cerca de seis cervezas y cuatro horas de viejo y yo estaba listo vertical conseguir acogedor con la poca belleza pero el minuto que vi que mi pintura era ido yo voló en una rabia y que comencé a gritar asesinato azul sangriento y a gritar y a hollering en la vecindad sonido-dormida de la última noche, y, no que cualquier cosa era necesario, pero para el énfasis comencé a arrojar los potes de pintura Pollocky alrededor de las paredes del tonel de pollo y cuando es pasado vi mi apretón principal Betty, bien, con un screeeech de neumáticos, ella hightailing lo encima de la calzada en su inclina -seis regate y aunque no podría ver ella que apenas conozco que ella limpiaba su frente con la parte posteriora de su mano y que iba, "Wheeeew, fuckin ' outta principal del lemme del caso... aquí..."

(…THEN had the Spanish translation translated BACK into English; I thought the result was pretty funny…)

I OBTAINED a SHORT FUSE and BADLY a GENIUS...... but I has more of length the horsepowers not to move it for above backwards. The push comes to push, I is sunk... so at the moment I tends to blow the fuses and to send rabietas in the country single, with only the walls to testify the exhibition of childish/churlish of the indignantemente foolish behavior, a study of case in the type amok of operation of the man of A, me perp only of the victim... and to victim roll-in-one. Little it asks to me only lives...... one Betty night gave I I walk home to my small hovel and on entering de'vil-ignite-with-one-red-bulb, previous chicken barrel I lived I enter and called home, immediately I saw a painting lacked, great, no could've of way I placed it bad, was gone - oh, incidently, to this point my relation with Betty was near six beers and four hours as an older person and I was I list vertical to obtain cosy with the little beauty but the minute that I saw that my painting was gone I flew in a rage and that I began to shout bloody blue murder and to shout and to hollering in the sound-slept vicinity of the last night, and, not that any thing was necessary, but for the emphasis I began to throw potes of Pollocky painting of the walls around del barrel of chicken and when she is happened I saw my main squeeze Betty, well, with screeeech of tires, it hightailing above of the road in his inclines - six regate and although could not see she that as soon as I know that it cleaned her front with the posteriora part of her hand and that went, "Wheeeew, fuckin ' outta de lemme del case…here…”

1 comment:

Thomas Williams said...

Terry,

You have learned how to write like James Joyce in the famous novel Ulysses.

Let your hair down but try not to lose your cool too often, ain't good for the arteries or the brain. Even ol' Sonny Barger wards people away from a life like his.

When someone steals something just remember, that's one less thing in your life to worry about 'cause we ain't one molecule of it with us next place we're off too!