“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 201: Grimm Meets a Girl

July 29, 2014

 

I have a lot to catch up with yet again, Wise Old Journal, including Bogart’s first date, which was on Sunday; our beach day, which was on Friday; and incidents including ants, M&Ms, the fire pit, and a vacuum.  But for now I will focus on when I met HER.

I was sitting in Barnes & Noble for most of the day in order to try and meet someone that I could take on a date and join Bogart for moral support, as I described in my previous entry.  Anyway, I was beginning to get discouraged when SHE walked in.  I saw her walk up to the counter and order a coffee.  I figured that she would sit or browse around the store, then I’d make my way to her and strike up some conversation.  But she left.  She ordered her coffee and walked back out the door.  I was like, shit wtf damnit mother fuck.  Because what the hell was I supposed to do, stalk her?

Well, this gaping hole birthed and began to expand in the pit of my stomach once she walked out, so after my wtf moment, I decided to go out after her.  I grabbed my own coffee and my book and ran out.  I stood in front of the store and saw her walking in the direction of the other stores in the plaza.  She wasn’t headed toward the parking lot.

In the midst of my dilemma about how to make this happen, I ran up to her, about ten feet away, and said, “excuse me.”

She turned, “yes?”

She was so beautiful, tall and black.  She was like a couple inches shorter than me maybe, and her skin was the dark black that almost seemed blue.  I lost my breath for a second and I thought I’d just get dizzy and pass out.  I just stared at her.  I’ve always kind of done that though, I get the impulse to approach a girl, say hi, then have no idea what to say next.  While I’m thinking of it, I just stare, and somehow, this has inadvertently become my manner of picking up girls.  It would seem they’d think I was kinda creepy, but nope, somehow they get intrigued.  This girl just smiled, “do you have something you want to say?”

She had a French accent.  We were still about ten feet away from each other and stationary, so I walked up to her and said, “umm I…I just…I wanted…ummm…hi, I’m Grimm.”  I decided to just introduce myself before I began to speak in tongues, and I put out my hand to shake hers.

“Solenne.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“Yes, but…why?”

“Because…ummm…” and since I had nothing else to say and no other cause for accosting her, I was honest, “you’re beautiful.  I saw you buy your coffee and I wanted to talk to you, but then you left, so I didn’t have much time to think about how to approach you.”

“That’s romantic.  Are you romantic?”

“I can be.”

“I remember you.”

“You remember me?  What do you mean?”

And then she described the day last year when I went to Barnes & Noble with my mother for mother’s day.  Solenne was apparently the girl who caught me with my hand down my pants scratching my balls.  Hardly a good first impression, but it was an impression enough for her to remember me.  She said I made her laugh and she thought I was cute.  Ok, I’ll take cute.  I’d prefer to be called hot and handsome, but cute’s not bad.

She then said that she had somewhere she needed to go, but had one more stop to make first, and she invited me to walk with her.  I asked if she minded if I smoked.  I figured I’d expose the bad habit right away and get it over with, but I still told her I was trying to quit.  She smoked with me though she’s not a smoker, it’s only social for her.  As we were walking she said we were going to Petco because she has three greyhounds that she adopted.  Their names are Marcy, Daisy, and Brad.  She changed their names from their race dog names, because she believed their original names carried bad associations for them.  Brad is named after Brad Pitt.  I said, funny I have a cat named Gary Oldman.  She said she’d like to meet “him”.  I said, “her”.  She said, “oh that is funny.”

So she likes animals, and I found out that she runs, which is awesome, and she goes with her dogs, because they need lots of exercise or their muscles will atrophy.  I accompanied her during her shopping, purchasing, and I helped her load up her car.  She told me that she’s from the Ivory Coast, and about five years ago she came to the states to live with an uncle because there was too much violence.  She didn’t want to go into detail, but she said she “lost” her family.  Since she’s come here, she’s caught up on her education, including learning to read and speaking English.  Her first language is French.  Since she’s been here, another civil war has broken out there.  She’s only nineteen years old, but for her I will make an exception to my age restrictions.  Solenne has been through a lot, so she’s wise and mature.  But she is extremely positive and loves life and values every minute of it because she says you never know what’s going to happen next, good or bad.  She believes she is very lucky to be here in the states and she’s excited that she will begin college this year, majoring in sociology because she wants to help people on a global level, but she’s not sure where to begin.  Sociology seemed fitting.

Anyway, I could no longer deny that I was in love with her.  Every word I spoke came out with a bunch of breath because I could barely breathe.  The exhales came out in my words, my inhales were kinda shaky.  I don’t think I was breathing at all when I wasn’t speaking.  But after we loaded her car, I told her about the date and explained that the girl Bogart is taking is bringing along a couple she knows, in order for her to feel safe.  Solenne said she won’t do that.  She said she feels safe and senses safety from me, so she wanted me to pick her up at her house like a real date, because she’s never been on a real date either.  She added that I will then also meet her uncle who will hunt me down and mutilate me if I should harm her in any way, then she laughed.  I said I wasn’t concerned about that, because I’d never hurt her.  I told her I’d call her on Saturday to confirm what we’re doing.

Then as she was saying goodbye, I said, “wait a minute.”  I wasn’t ready for her to go yet.

She was at her car door, standing inside the open door and I was facing her, very close to her.  I wanted to kiss her but I thought it might not be appropriate since we only just met, so after I said “wait” I just stood there again, staring at her.  She smiled and said, “what?”

I leaned in slowly to kiss her, slow enough for her to know what I was doing, and slow enough for her to turn away or refuse it if she wanted.  But she didn’t.  She took it and kissed me back.  Then she told me I was definitely a romantic.  She said goodbye and drove away.

I watched her drive away, and couldn’t move at first as I was captured by the remnants of her presence, but once I broke out of the time warp, I was eventually able to get on with my day.

And my theme song for this entry is “Hello, I Love You” by The Doors, because is there another more appropriate song?

 

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previous Grimm 200: Grimm on the Hunt http://wp.me/p41c99-10U

For a list with links to all the previous journal entries go to: http://wp.me/P41c99-J

Check out the Character Directory Pages to learn about characters mentioned in each post.

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 186-210 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 200: Grimm on the Hunt

July 25, 2014

 

Bogart called Ashley Wednesday night while I was at work.  Pete and Cola instructed him prior and he had notes all written out kind of like a sales person.  ‘If the person says this, you respond with…’ etc.  Ashley wants to go out but she wants to meet at a public place and she wants to bring her friend and her friend’s boyfriend.  Bogart said ok but he wanted to bring his friend and his friend’s girlfriend.  He meant me.  He told me when I got home from work that he’s never been on a date before and he wants me there to make sure he does everything right.  He actually said that he knows he’s kind of insane and he wants to learn how to be a real person and interact with real people and not be a delinquent, a criminal, or a patient anymore.  And of course I want to help him with that, which is the reason I invited him to live with me.  The only way he can learn to be a 22 year old guy is by being immersed in a world of people around his own age.  Kind of like learning a language, total immersion works.

Anyway, I don’t have a girlfriend and Iona is taking a break from me.  I had some girls’ contact info in my phone, but that phone fell in the toilet at Sharly’s the night I performed for Emma.  I’ve since gotten a new phone, but I lost most of my contacts, those I didn’t know by heart or couldn’t find out through a little research.  I thought of asking Ayla, since at least it would be guaranteed that I’d get laid or a blow job or both, but I decided to go looking for a girl.  I heard from Snow White the other day and unfortunately she won’t be coming up to visit.  It has to do with time, money, and a bunch of different things going on for her.  I was kinda looking forward to her visit, but shit happens and then you step over it and keep walking.

So yesterday, I decided to spend my entire day looking for a girl.  I figured if I failed, I’d try again today, and if I still failed, then I’d ask Ayla.  Our plans are for around noontime Sunday, but they’re up in the air in terms of where we’re going or what we’re doing.

At first I couldn’t think of how to meet a girl.  I don’t think I’ve ever ventured out specifically for that purpose before, unless I was going to a bar, and it wasn’t the only goal, rather it was more of a fringe benefit.  But I’m meeting less girls than ever since I don’t do anything that gives the opportunity for meeting them.  Not like going to bars.  Plus without the alcohol, I tend to be more apprehensive about approaching.  There are a bunch of different girls that come in the book store sometimes.  Sharly calls them my groupies or my fan club because they like to talk to me or they talk to each other about me, Sharly’s heard them talking.  But they’re all youngish.  And I realized yesterday one reason why I lean towards older women, because they’re obviously not teenagers.  Some of those teenage girls look like twenty somethings and that freaks me out.  I’m kind of traumatized from the Lauren incident, I guess.  I’m going to be 25 in a couple of weeks and I draw the line at 20, not even as young as 18.  I guess because 18 is too close to high school.  And I’ve seen those girls at college, they seem so young to me.  Speaking of college, that’s a great place to meet girls, but my entire first semester back I was invested in my performance for Emma, so I was too distracted.  Except for the sorority girl incident with Cassidy.  That put me off college girls, at least temporarily.

Anyway, so I decided, after much thought, that the best way to meet someone when you don’t go to bars is at a place that you personally enjoy going to, because there’s at least that shared interest.  I thought of a book store.  I work at a freakin’ bookstore.  But like I said, my groupies are youngish, and the girls, or I should say women, who come in that I would be interested in, Sharly probably wouldn’t like it if I were to flirt or hit on them, since I’m in a professional position.  Well, they need to flirt first at least.  Besides, I’ve been sleeping with Iona, distracted in life otherwise, so I just haven’t bothered to put the pheromones out there, until yesterday when I went to Barnes and Noble.

I thought a book store would be best, because I like a girl who likes to read.  I planned to spend the entire day there until I had to go to work.  I sat in the café drinking cappuccinos and finally finishing Steppenwolf.  I’ve decided to make it a point to read every day now.  I used to read more, then there was all the drugs and alcohol and my being generally fucked up that ended the habit of reading.  Plus with my brain injury from the Gangsta, I have processing issues, so reading can be a slow and painful process, which sucks.  The processing problems otherwise are tolerable, because it usually happens in conversation with people, and since I tend to be quiet, it gives me time to devote to interpretation before I’m ever expected to say anything.  My psychicisms and intuition help to offset some of that lapse though.  One on one is easier, it’s when there’s a lot of people, it’s hard to follow everything everyone is saying.  Also, I’m forgetful, and I’ll sometimes forget what I’m doing or where I’m going.  My mom tells me that’s what it’s like to get older.  So I guess that by the time I’m at the age when that normally would start to happen, I’ll be freakin’ senile.

Anyway, I sat in the café reading, and occasionally walked around the store.  I was there from 9am after running until around 2pm.  I had to work at 5.  I had just finished my book and was thinking about giving up.  I probably missed some girls while my face was in the book anyway, but then SHE came in, and my heart dropped into my stomach, and my nerves made me kind of tremble.  The caffeine wasn’t helping.  I watched her walk up to the counter and order a coffee, then turn around and walk out the door.  Ok, so she didn’t get a book or read, but I also like a girl who likes coffee…

…However, I can’t finish this story now, Invisible Journal Reading People.  We’re going to the beach today.  Bogart has never been to the beach.  Pete has to work, and Cola’s going to Boston for the weekend because she has a studio where she works on her art, which I just learned about.  She’s been working in her room here now that she has more space than in Howard’s basement with me.  We actually allowed her the largest bedroom in the apartment for that purpose.  But yeah, the plans for the beach happened spontaneously last night with Astrid.  It will be me, her, and Bogart.  And so now I have to stop writing and get ready to go.  We’re going early so we can get back in time for me to work.

I’ll have to tell you about the girl another time.  I think I might be in love with her.  But it’s hard to tell, because it’s almost impossible to tell the difference between love and wanting sex, until you have sex, then you know it wasn’t love, but you just wanted to fuck her, but you’d love to fuck her again.  It’s just how I’m wired, I guess.

Yet with this girl, I believe it’s different.

My theme song today is Duran Duran’s “Hungry Like the Wolf” because Bogart likes early 80’s music, including Duran Duran, and yeah it works thematically.

 

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previous Grimm 199: Bogart Meets a Girl http://wp.me/p41c99-10z

For a list with links to all the previous journal entries go to: http://wp.me/P41c99-J

Check out the Character Directory Pages to learn about characters mentioned in each post.

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 171-185 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 199: Bogart Meets a Girl

July  23, 2014

 

Iona decided she wanted a break from our relationship, which is just friendship but we have sex.  I hate the expression ‘friend with benefits’ because it’s used so much it irritates me.  Even writing it just now irritated me.  Because benefits means more than one thing anyway, and every part of sex is all one thing, so friend with benefit is more accurate.  And though sex is a benefit in any occasion, for some people it’s a privilege, for some it’s an honor, for some it’s a phenomenon.  Sex can be an act of deviance or a means of exploitation, a method of expression, a release, an endeavor, an event, a strategy, or an artform.  For me it’s a need.  Friend who gratifies my need.  That’s just stupid.  I guess I’m not clever today.

Anyway, she wants a break because she wants to be more than a friend who gratifies my need.  Though she probably doesn’t realize that she’s important to me, I trust her, which is valuable.  And there’s more but I don’t feel like writing about it at the moment.  But yeah, so that means I’m running alone again.  I prefer that because it’s kinda Zen and I’m more aware of the sensation of my muscles working, which feels really good, and then there’s the endorphin rush and runner’s high.  I don’t run long enough for that when I’m with Iona, so I don’t experience that so much.  Still, it sucks that she needs a break, but she’s got to do what she’s got to do.

Since I’m not running with her anymore, yesterday before work I asked Bogart to come with me.  It was one of the hottest days recently.  So maybe it wasn’t the best day to take him on his first time running since it was also the most humid day, which makes running more intense if you’re not used to it.  Yet I asked him to go and he said yeah.  I gave him some of my shorts to wear because he only has jeans.  He’s bigger and taller than me, but they fit all right with the stretchy waist band.  Trainers, which is what he calls sneakers, are the only shoes he has, so he was all set with that.

We don’t live far from what we call around here a bike path, even though people mostly walk and run on it.  We ran for about 10 minutes before we got there.  Once we were on the path, Bogart stopped and asked me where we were going and why we were in such a hurry to get there.  I said we weren’t going anywhere, just running.  He asked why.  I said because it’s healthy.  He was dripping from sweat which was getting in his eyes, so he lifted his shirt to wipe his face and said it didn’t feel healthy, why would we do this.  I said it’s exercise, it keeps you in shape, and it’s good to relieve stress, it helps clear the mind.  He was like, “Bloody ‘ell, it’s no’ clearin’ me mind, I can’t stop finking abou’ why we’re fuckin’ runnin’, to start.”

I handed him a water and said we’ll take a break, and we stood in the shade from a tree.  But then he saw a girl running in our direction from down the path.  He said, “Fuckin’ ‘ell look at ‘er.  Wha…”  And was rendered speechless.  As she approached and passed he of course addressed her.  “Oi allo, look at you, you’re a pre’y li’le fing aren’t you, oi where you goin’?  Don’t run off now, get back over ‘ere, come on now, oi stop, please.”  He said all that as she approached, passed, and continued on.  Amazingly, once he said please, she stopped and turned.  She was already about 50 yards away by then.  When she turned to face us, he called out, “Allo, love,” and waved in kind of a dorky way, then added, “get over ‘ere.”  I was kinda surprised that she began to walk towards us, and I told him I’d just stand over by another tree, yet he got nervous all of a sudden and asked me what to say.  I told him to not stare at her tits, don’t ogle her, don’t mention her tits or her body or sex.  I told him to focus on her face and to pay attention to whatever she says like it’s interesting, and look her directly in the eye.  He nodded, I walked over to another tree, took out my phone to look busy, and she made it over to him.

He said, “Allo.”

“Hi.”

Then there was awkward silence.  He has a lot to say to girls he thinks are hot until he’s actually speaking to them.

She asked, “Where are you from?”

Bogart got confused by that and responded with, “I don’t know…” and looked at me.  I knew he thought she meant where he’s living, which I realized he didn’t know the name of our city, and he was also thinking about how he just came from an institution.

I clarified by explaining she wanted to know what country.

“Oh I’m from London.”

“I love your accent.”

“And I love…you’re… …lips.  They’re…good…on ya face.  Ya use ‘em to say int’restin’ fings….”

She laughed, and I wanted to laugh too, but I was essentially impressed that he took my advice, maybe too literally, but it charmed her, that’s for sure.

After about five minutes of small talk including an exchange of names, her name is Ashley, he came over to me and asked how to get her to fuck him, which also impressed me that he held back from coming right out with it to her and didn’t just grab her or something.  I said he can’t assume they will ever fuck, and she can’t know that’s all he’s interested in.  I said he has to try and get to know her, and maybe he’ll like her anyway and then she can be his girlfriend or whatever.  I explained that a lot of girls will be cautious about guys they don’t know, for safety reasons.  So I advised him to ask her on a date.

He went back to her, “Wan’a go on a date?”

“Sure.”

“Now?”

She laughed, “No, let me give you my number and you can call me tonight.”

He nodded.

“What’s your number?”

“I fought ya were givin’ me yours.”

“Yeah, I’ll call yours, then you’ll have mine, and I’ll also know it’s you when you call.”

He was baffled.  And I didn’t think he knew his number.  So I approached, took out my phone and pulled up his contact info, then told her his number.  She called it, and after a little confusion about the fact that he was receiving a call and not understanding that he didn’t need to answer it, we parted ways with Ashley, who was very amused by him.

He said, “She’s fit, go’a ‘ave that.  I wan’a go ‘ome.  Runnin’ ‘urts me bollocks.”

So we walked home.  I have to work tonight, but Cola, Pete, and Astrid will be around, so I’ll tell them to instruct him prior to the phone call.  Maybe he’ll get a girlfriend out of this, hopefully laid at least.  The guy’s going to spontaneously combust from an overload of testosterone otherwise.

My theme song for this post is “Gloria”, The Doors’ version rather than the clean Van Morrison version, because I’m pretty sure this is what Bogart’s thinking.  It’s how I think most of the time.

 

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previous Grimm 198: Bogart the Psychotic Acrobat http://wp.me/p41c99-104

next Grimm 200: Grimm on the Hunt http://wp.me/p41c99-10U

For anyone who’s never heard this version, it really is “dirty” so be aware of that.  The video’s pretty good, minimal added weird stuff, including…well, sorry about the bubbles.

For a list with links to all the previous journal entries go to: http://wp.me/P41c99-J

Check out the Character Directory Pages to learn about characters mentioned in each post.

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 186-210 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 16 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 198: Bogart the Psychotic Acrobat

July 20, 2014

 

I had taken some time off from work to make sure Bogart’s transition into living with us went smoothly, but I’ll be working tonight.  As Cola predicted, Bogart has grown used to her cross-dressing, though he still calls her “he”, which we correct, and sometimes he stares at her with speculation.  I wonder if he’s not just tempted to fuck her, since she’s in a skirt.  Yet Cola is like the mother to our group, she’s got clearly defined boundaries.  She thinks of Bogart as a baby, since they’re about 10 years apart.  Although, she can be a flirt and speaks in innuendo to me at times just to mess with me.  C-O-L-A Cola.

Regarding Pete and Cola, they agree that roommates should not get into sexual relationships since that ruins the dynamic of the household, and they’re not each other’s types anyway.  They both prefer masculine men, and both say that I’m their type and it’s a shame I’m straight.  I guess that’s kinda flattering.

Anyway, there are some things that this week has brought, mostly regarding Bogart, but it includes things about our new apartment, and our landlady Astrid.  My name is Wall Grimm aka Constable, aka Caballero, aka Cowboy, aka twat, bugger, cunt, nutter, and here is a recap of my new world as of late.

THE GOINGS ON IN WALL GRIMM’S WORLD

*Bogart jerks off a lot, and very openly.  We send him to his room and make him close the door.  Even Pete has learned to do that, though he admits he’d rather watch.  Pete’s like a closet pervert.

*Whenever one of us leaves the toilet seat up, Cola will tell us we need to put the lid down because there’s a lady in the house.  Bogart’s response is usually something like, “But…ya go’…but…you’re…” and then he arghs like a pirate and stands silently baffled and staring.

*Bogart has been less talkative, due to the medication, but he has his moments.  This is usually when he’s bored and we’re all preoccupied by other things.  He’ll pace around us wanting attention, interaction, activity, and then he’ll just start talking incessantly, not to any one of us in particular, just out loud.  He seems to have a difficult time being alone, and when we’re all preoccupied, even though we’re there, for him it feels as if he is alone.

*He’s not used to getting his own food.  We comprise a list of food we all like, we each pitch in, and take turns going shopping.  We don’t have Bogart pitch in.  We’ll be getting his social security checks and depositing them in a bank account we set up for him.  It will just go in there and stay for his use if at any time he needs it, so he’ll have himself a good savings.  If needed, Cola volunteered to exceed her stipend on Bogart’s behalf, since as I said before, she’s wealthy from her art and she restricts herself to live like a “real” person.  Anyway, we have plenty of food in the house but Bogart’s not used to getting his own food.  He’s been in programs, prison, and institutions so he’s used to being told when it’s time to eat and then following the hordes.  We kind of fend for ourselves and occasionally one of us will cook a dinner.  When we cook, that’s the only time he’s sure he can eat.  Otherwise, he waits until food is offered to him, usually when we’re feeding ourselves.  If we don’t tell him to specifically go and get some food, which results in us helping to get it for him, there are times when we hear his stomach growling.  He won’t ask for it or get it himself, no matter how much we tell him he can.  I don’t think he’s even ever been in the kitchen by himself.

*I’ve learned a couple new expressions from him.  Sometimes he’ll call a girl “fit” which seems to be the equivalent of “hot”.  If he wants to fuck a girl, he’ll say he wants to go “balls deep.”  That one is very literal and makes sense and I like it.  But it seems hard to use in a sentence.  ‘I want to go balls deep with her’, ‘I went balls deep’, ‘I was balls deep in that fit bird’.  Yeah, I think I’m better off being Sicilian.  I’d be a very awkward Englishman.

*Bogart is afraid of Astrid’s cat because it’s bipolar and will attack you while it’s in the middle of accepting affection.

*Bogart has used Astrid’s swing in every incorrect way possible:  while he’s upside down, half hanging off, underneath, or on top of it.

*I don’t remember if I mentioned that Astrid has a trampoline, but she does.  He likes the trampoline and jumps around on it until he pukes sometimes.  Once, Cola got me up there to jump with her, and we were alternating jumps, so that when one of us went down the other would go up, and as a result we’d go higher.  She decided she was done and got down.  I began to stop jumping so I could get down too and Bogart came running across the field, I didn’t see him coming, and he jumped on it so hard, I went flying off.  Landing knocked the wind out of me, but I was all right.  Bogart was laughing hysterically while he kept jumping on the trampoline, like some kind of psychotic acrobat.

*Astrid’s friend Matt doesn’t like me because I’m straight, doesn’t like Pete because he’s gay, doesn’t like Cola because she’s transgendered, and whenever we’re down hanging out with Astrid, he doesn’t stay long.  In terms of Bogart, Matt doesn’t seem to completely trust him or think that Astrid’s safe with him living there.  Bogart will talk and talk innocently, with all of us scarcely understanding what he’s saying because of his accent, and then it’s like he gets a sudden vibe from Matt.  Bogart will just shut up and gaze at him.  It’s kind of intense, and when he does that, Matt is less willing to leave because he thinks Bogart’s a psychopath.  I think however, we are all growing on him, since we help Astrid by giving her food when we cook, supplying her with toilet paper, buying her butts and wine, and I mow her lawn.  I assume however, that Matt likes Pete the best because he’s pretty normal, and since he’s gay, he’s no threat.  Matt has feelings for Astrid that are not mutual, but he doesn’t seem to get the hint.  That’s why he hates me anyway, because I’m competition as far as he’s concerned.  I don’t listen to their conversations in general or on purpose, but sometimes if they’re down on her patio, and I’m up on the balcony having a smoke, I can hear what they’re saying.  And I’ve heard her tell him that I’m just a kid, young enough to be her son, and that’s disgusting, how could he think that about her.  I don’t like to think it would be considered disgusting to have sex with me, but I appreciate the essence of what she means by that.

There’s more shit to say, as usual, but I’ll save it for another time.

My theme song for today is “Just Dropped In” by First Edition, because I learned that Bogart likes Kenny Rogers, even though this song isn’t the classic Kenny Rogers most people know.  I just like it and I love the scene it’s used in, in “The Big Lebowski”.   Bogart has a diverse range of musical tastes which are a very, very bizarre assortment:  Kenny Rogers, early 80’s music, Marilyn Manson, and The Beatles, to name a few.

 

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previous Grimm 197:  Boundaries and Hidden Meanings http://wp.me/p41c99-ZX

next Grimm 199: Bogart Meets a Girl http://wp.me/p41c99-10z

For a list with links to all the previous journal entries go to: http://wp.me/P41c99-J

Check out the Character Directory Pages to learn about characters mentioned in each post.

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 186-210 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | 12 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 197: Boundaries and Hidden Meanings

July 18, 2014

 

Last night I went to dinner with Iona, then went back to her place.  We fucked and while we were lying in bed after, we had a conversation about Bogart, because I decided that I need to try and get him laid.  His sex drive is so built up he’s going to explode if he doesn’t get some release.

I don’t usually document entire conversations in my journal because it’s impossible to write verbatim what was said, but I’ll do it today, with the suspension of disbelief in terms of accuracy, because the gist is legit.  And here it is:

“I need to get Bogart laid.”

“Shouldn’t be difficult.”

“Why?”

“He’s hot.”

“Well, he’s aggressive.  A girl can’t change her mind.  Not with him.”

“You can make sure she’s safe.”

“What am I supposed to do, sit and watch?”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you.”

“No but you would.”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Pervert.  So do you have any friends who’d go with him?”

“Of course.”

“How come I never meet any of your friends?”

“Yeah, not since Shannon.”

“Who’s Shannon.”

“Shannon.  You don’t know Shannon.  Seriously?”

I said nothing.

“You only had sex with her.”

“Oh, her.”

“You don’t even know her name?”

“I forgot.”

“Did you have her name in your contacts?”

“No.”

“How did you identify her?”

I bit my lip.  Literally.  I opened my mouth to speak then I bit down on my lip because it was a better idea not to answer.

“How.”

“umm…tits.”

“You added her to your contacts as ‘tits’.”

I nodded.

She glared at me.

“Well I didn’t know her name.”

“You could’ve put, ‘Iona’s friend’.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think of that.”

“Because you were thinking of her boobs.”

“It was just a way to identify her.”

“You’re the pervert.”

“She’s the pervert.  I told you about it, and I don’t know, I do my best to be honest and respect you.”

“Well, how about I have sex with Bogart?”

“Seriously?  Wtf are you joking?”

“No I’m serious.”

“But…but that’s not cool.”

“Why not, you had sex with one of my friends.”

“But it was a mistake and she tormented me to do it.  She came onto me and was being all provocative and shit.  I didn’t invite her over.  I didn’t initiate that.  She instigated it.  And I told you about it.”

“I know.  I’m just messing with you.  But, I mean, I’m not your girlfriend.  We can sleep with other people.  We agreed.”

“I know that’s your argument, but friends are crossing boundaries.  Shannon manipulated me.  I wouldn’t have done it otherwise.  She was like walking around half naked and…you know what she did.  Sex is kinda one of my addictions.”

“You’re so defensive.  You must be guilty.”

“Iona, stop.”

She laughed.

“So now you don’t trust me around your friends.”

“No, I don’t trust my friends around you.”

“What’s the difference?”

“They might get all provocative and shit.”

I didn’t say anything.  I was getting pissed off.

“I’m sorry.”

I got up to put my pants on.

“You’re not leaving are you?”

“I need a smoke.”

I put on my jeans and Eastwood and she threw on a little dress without putting on her bra or underwear underneath, which was sexy and I was tempted to fuck her again right then and there, but I was annoyed so I needed a smoke first.  We went outside with Gary Oldman (II) because I still take her just about everywhere with me, and I lit a cigarette.

“Why don’t you just let Bogart do you up the backside.”

“You’d like if he did, wouldn’t you.”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Pervert.”

“Man on man is sexy.”

“Change of subject.”

“Like ‘Brokeback Mountain’, Cowboy.”

I shook my head.

“You said he offered.”

“Yeah I don’t want to talk about that.”

“You said he said that if he bent you over, he wouldn’t know the difference.”

“Iona, stop.”

“He doesn’t know how hairy your ass is.”

“It’s not that hairy.”

“How do you know?  You look at your ass in the mirror??”

“I’m just gonna shut up.”

“You do!”

“Nope.  No I don’t.”

“Show me an Italian man and I’ll show you a hairy ass.”

“You have a hairy ass too?”

“Omg shut up.”  She laughed, embarrassed.

“What, you do?  Really?”

“Nooo, shut up.  You should know I don’t, you’ve seen it.”

“Yeah that’s right.  But I don’t know if you shave your ass.”

“Shut up.”  Laughing more.

“You shave your ass, don’t you.”

“Shut up.”  She laughed and pushed me.

“All right, back on track, any friends for Bogart?  It’s got to be someone who knows from the start that it’s going to end in sex, and would be ok with that.”

“I don’t know any escorts or anything.”

“Come on be serious.”

“Get him a hooker.”

“No fucking way.”

“Why not?”

“I want him to have a nice girl.”

“Nice girls don’t go on dates specifically for sex.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, unfortunately I do.”

“Why unfortunately?”

“Because it’s jaded.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because I’m thinking like a man.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, never mind.  What about your friend Ayla?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because…”

“Because you don’t want to share her.”

I didn’t respond.

“That hurts you know.”

“No, it’s just that, say she comes over, he’s going to expect to be with her, and…I don’t know.”

“Then you won’t get to have her.”

“No.  It’s hard to explain.”

“What, you don’t think she can make her own choice?  She can’t go over and choose either you or him, depending on her mood?  Or choose not to have sex at all?  She has to go with Bogart because you’re giving her to him like a gift?”

“No, no, that’s not what I mean.  And she definitely makes her own choices.  I never initiate that either.”

“You’re afraid she’ll choose Bogart over you.”

“Nope.  Stop twisting things.”

“You want to keep me all to yourself, and Ayla all to yourself, and we’re expected to not have our own opinions on that.”

“Wtf Iona, I just said…it’s not like that…are you fucking with me?”

“Partly.  But I kind of feel that way now.”

“I don’t know how to explain it.  I don’t do anything purposely to hurt you.”

“So did you have sex with Ayla when you went camping?  Did she give you one of her famous blow jobs?”

I didn’t answer.

“Of course.”

“Iona…you know I sleep with her sometimes.  You and I are not in a relationship like that.  You were ok with that.”

“I think suddenly I’m not ok with it anymore.”

“So what does that mean.”

“I don’t know.”

“We don’t have to have sex you know.”

“I didn’t want to after we broke up.  I didn’t want this.”

“We can just be friends.”

“I don’t even remember when I changed my mind.”

“We can be strictly friends, no sex, if you think sex is making things difficult.”

“But…”

“What’s the matter?”  I put my hand on her back.

“I want you.  I want you all to myself.  I don’t want to share anymore.”

Then she fell into my arms and began to cry.  And I felt like an asshole.  I didn’t do anything wrong, but I felt like an asshole.  I’m not her boyfriend, we have no commitment, we’re both free to sleep with other people.  And since I don’t go out drinking, and I’m working all the time, then there’s school, and now I’m kind of a guardian to Bogart, it’s pretty rare that I sleep with anyone besides Iona.  I don’t even see Ayla that much.

Explaining myself seemed impossible without misinterpretation.  She threw in all this subtext and hidden meaning.  It got all twisted around.  Casual sex sucks when it’s not a one night stand.  I think it’s impossible to have an open relationship.  Except for Ayla.  But if I saw Ayla as much as I see Iona, and slept with her as much, I think Ayla would probably begin to think these things too.

While Iona was crying, I brought her inside.  We lied down on her bed and I held her until she stopped crying.  I didn’t know what to say.  It’s hard to console someone when you feel like the enemy.  She cried for like at least a half an hour, but once she stopped she said she didn’t want to talk about it anymore that night, so we just stayed in bed quietly until we fell asleep.

My theme song is “It’s Been A While” by Staind.

 

*******

previous Grimm 196: Confusing People and New Flatmates http://wp.me/p41c99-Zu

next Grimm 198: Bogart the Psychotic Acrobat http://wp.me/p41c99-104

For a list with links to all the previous journal entries go to: http://wp.me/P41c99-J

Check out the Character Directory Pages to learn about characters mentioned in each post.

 

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 186-210 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 13 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 196: Bogart’s Confusing People and New Flatmates

July 16, 2014

 

Ok now I’ll continue the story about when I first brought Bogart home.  When I pulled up in front of the house he was asleep so I had to wake him.  He awoke instantly, hopped out of the car, and ran to the front door.  It’s a Victorian house which was altered to function as a two family.  Access to either the upstairs or downstairs areas requires keys.  There’s a way to get upstairs from the front and one from the back, where there’s a balcony with outside stairs.

You use a key for the front door to get in the entryway.  Then you can either use the door to the downstairs apartment, where Astrid lives, or you can go up the stairs to get in my apartment.  Astrid doesn’t bother locking the front door except when she leaves the house and at night.

I locked it so I could show Bogart the keys, since there was a copy for him.  The two keys, the one for the front door and the one for our actual apartment, look completely different.  I was trying to get him to recognize which key opened which door.  When he saw the first key, the shape reminded him of a clover, which reminded him of the clubs in a deck of cards, and he went off on card games he likes and some he hates, and how we should have a poker night like men do.  When we got upstairs, he took a while to figure out which key opened that door, even though he just used the other key downstairs.

When I sensed that I finally had the greatest amount of his brain he was able to offer to any one given situation, I asked him why it was so difficult for him to figure out something so simple, because I believe he’s intelligent, though I didn’t tell him he often comes across as clueless.  He said, “cos I always go’ a billion foughts in me ‘ead.”  I said that I thought the medication was helping with that.  He responded, “yeah, it used to be five billion.”  Then he laughed BUWAHAHAHAHAAAA, got serious again and said, “seriously.”  Then he added, “also there were the paypo,” (which is my best spelling of how he pronounces ‘people’ but that’s confusing, so I’ll just spell it normally).

I asked, “What people?”

He spoke more slowly than I ever heard him speak, with huge pauses, and his eyes darted around, “The people…they’s ‘o…  ….I go’ ….confused by.  …I ‘ad …foughts…foughts an’ …a lo’ o’ …ideas an’ …some people …gave ‘em to me.  …An’ there …were …fings no’a be …sure of… …all dodgy, ….’ard to get sor’ed.  …They …said …fings… …an’ did …fings… …it was …a bi’ too much, didn’t know me arse from me elbow, all cos’a the people.”

I think he was talking about the paranoia, delusions, and hallucinations.  It kinda creeped me out though.  There were times in the institution when he made no sense, it just sounded like he was reciting a string of words and ideas that had no connection whatsoever, all scattered and indecipherable thoughts.  His accent didn’t help, so most of the time I tuned him out, just let him ramble on and I’d just nod and say “yeah.”  I’d never want to have Bogart’s mind.  It seems like a fucking horrifying place to exist in.  He’s tortured by it.

…Anyway, I showed him our apartment and he ran around, again I can only think to compare him to a dog, like a yellow lab, that’s what he reminds me of, running around with his tail wagging and his tongue hanging out.  When I showed him his room he jumped on the bed and started to undo his pants to jerk off.  I forgot about how openly he does that and would even try to have conversations with me at the institution while he was jerking off.  I told him to wait so he could meet his new roomies and our landlady, and Gary Oldman (II) who was outside with them.

We went down the outside stairs and went to Astrid’s patio where they were all hanging out.  Astrid was inside at the time.  He saw Pete first and didn’t remember him from when Pete came to visit me at the institution.  Pete stood to shake his hand, but Bogart grabbed him and hugged him, then laughed and called him a fucking twat, pushing him so hard he stumbled over backwards, tripping over his chair and landing on his ass.  I was like, “yeah, Bogart, Pete’s not into that, so uh…yeah he wouldn’t be too happy about a punch in the face as a greeting.”

Neither am I, but I can take it.

Astrid saw him push Pete over from inside and she came out kind of laughing, after assessing Pete was ok, and put her hand out, “Hi Bogart, I’m Astrid.”  I could see he was about to grab her, wrap his arms around her waist to pull her up to him.  So I put my hand to his chest to prevent that.

I said, “Astrid has back problems, you have to be gentle with her or you could cause permanent damage.”

He seemed baffled about how to respond, but she put her hand back out, he shook it, and said, “you go’ nice tits.”

I cringed.  “Yeah, Bogart, she’s also our landlady so you shouldn’t talk to her like that.  You shouldn’t talk to any woman like that.”

I don’t know if he heard me because he was too busy staring at her tits.  Astrid had a smirk like she was amused, but said, “hey, eyes up here buddy,” gesturing to her face.  He glanced up but looked back down.

I said, “Ok now this is Cola.”  He turned and Cola stood.  Bogart started laughing, looked at me and was like, “‘at’s a bloke in a dress.”

“Cola’s transgendered.”

“Wot….?”

Cola graciously explained, “I identify with women, and feel like a woman inside, and express that on the outside, though I am physically a man.”

“Wot…?  Lift up your skirt, mate.”

I said, “Bogart, no–“

But Cola interrupted, “No it’s ok, let’s get it all cleared up right away, if no one minds.”  And she lifted up her skirt.

“You go’ on ladies’ knickers too,” then he reached out to grope her, which I was surprised she allowed.  And while he had his hand on her crotch, he said, “blimey, ‘e’s go’ ‘imself some tackle, an’ it gets stiff too.”

Cola pushed his hand away and fixed her skirt.  “Yes, I have perfectly functioning male genitalia.  And of course I’m going to get erect when a man feels me up.”

Bogart backed up, then as if he forgot he was repulsed for a second, he stepped forward and put his hands on Cola’s tits, “these real then?”

“No, they’re not.”

Bogart stepped back, speculated her for a minute, then laughed and said, “‘at’s mental, you’re a nutter.”

I attempted to say something, but Cola stopped me and was like, “It’s ok, he’ll get used to the idea, he’ll be all right.  Believe me, I’ve had worse reactions.”

And I can imagine that she has.

And before I go, I’ll add that he also met Gary Oldman (II), and he was amazingly gentle with her, which is a relief.  Otherwise, I could go on and on and fucking on.  There’s so much to say.  So much more.  There’s so much fucking more I could write about.  But even my mind needs a break.

My theme song is “Around My Head” by Cage The Elephant, because it doesn’t make sense.  But it can.

 

*******

previous Grimm 195: Distractibility and Seeking Thrills http://wp.me/p41c99-Zm

next Grimm 197:  Boundaries and Hidden Meanings http://wp.me/p41c99-ZX

For a list with links to all the previous journal entries go to: http://wp.me/P41c99-J

Check out the Character Directory Pages to learn about characters mentioned in each post.

 

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 186-210 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 23 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 195: Distractibility and Seeking Thrills

July 15th, 2014

 

I went camping over the weekend with a crew of people I haven’t hung out with in a while.  It’s tough to hang out when there’s usually drinking involved.  I said they could bring beer on the trip but I had to have me some O’Doul’s.  It helped a lot, and I even forgot sometimes I wasn’t drinking real beer, except it tastes like Rolling Rock and I never drank Rolling Rock unless it was someone else’s beer that they offered to me.  I like lagers and stouts.  Also, the lack of a buzz stood out to me as well.  When alcohol goes through your blood you feel it.  You don’t get that sensation from any non-alcoholic beverage.

Anyway, John, Jay, Danika, Jeff, Morgan, Ayla, and even Randy was there, though he fucking hates me.  But we tolerated each other and co-existed without any problems.  Pete had to work so he didn’t come, and Cola isn’t big on camping, plus she wanted to stay home and hang out with our landlady Astrid, who is now Cola’s new best friend.

We left for camping Thursday, returned on Sunday, and yesterday morning I went to Blues Monday.  Then I went to go get Bogart.  Astrid insisted I use her convertible to go pick him up and I was more than willing to oblige her.  I don’t think I’ve ever driven a convertible before.  Maybe I did and I forgot with this mush of a brain I have at times.  One thing I do know is that Bogart has never ridden in a convertible before.  I’m learning there’s a lot of things that Bogart has never done.  Most of his life has been about treatment, not so much about experience.  In fact, I’m wondering about some things he’s said to me in the past that may or may not have been his delusions.  A lot of his stories contradict things his mother has said.  She’s told me that he lies and is also delusional.  Maybe I’ll learn truths or maybe I’ll never know what his reality actually is.  A great example is when he told me he’d go out drinking with his friends.  But how was that possible when he’s still only 22 and he’s been in juvie, jail, and institutions since his teen years?  I’m not sure when he first went into juvie, but regardless there are inconsistencies.  Also, my first impression of his mother was that she didn’t care about him, but it’s seeming to me now that she does care, yet is overwhelmed.  It’s all confusing but I guess it essentially doesn’t matter.  She’s maintaining guardianship but entrusting his care to me, so he’s pretty much my responsibility now.

And yeah I went to go get him yesterday with Astrid’s convertible.  I pulled in the driveway and I was barely out of the car when he ran over, tackled me, pinned me down and kissed me, then punched me in the face.  Then he called me a fucking bender.  I can just imagine that he was pacing around watching at the windows for me like a little kid or an excited dog.

He got off me and was amazed at the convertible, but couldn’t remember the word convertible and was saying he didn’t know I had one of those cars that have no top.  I told him the word and he was like, “yeah ‘at’s right conver’abul, a swanky cah, let’s crack on then.”  And he jumped up into the car, like you do with convertibles, except he was kinda clumsy and he fell into the car face first with his feet sticking out awkwardly.  He sat behind the wheel and told me to give him the keys because he wanted to drive.  His mother had followed him out and said he didn’t have his license.  I said maybe we can work on that and he was excited about that, but she shook her head at me discretely and said he’s too distractible to drive.  I believe her.

He only had one medium sized duffle bag of stuff, nothing else.  His mother had sent along a new bedroom set last week with some movers.  She’s keeping his set at her home in case he needs to come home for any reason.  He kissed her goodbye and we were off.  We live about 45 minutes away from her place.  One of the first things he did was unbuckle his seatbelt and stand up on the seat while I was driving.  He stretched out his arms like DiCaprio in “Titanic” and was shouting like he was at a sporting event or concert or something.  I pulled over to make him sit down and buckle up.  I feel so responsible and tame.  I used to think I was the wild one, but now I feel like the father of a teenager.  It’s very strange and I don’t know how I feel about it yet.  I’m going to be 25 in August and I think I still have some of my own personal recklessness just under my surface that is awaiting the opportunity to reveal itself.  I don’t feel ready to be a grown up yet, though I try, but the commitment wavers from time to time.

Anyway, the next thing he did was point out this girl to me while I was driving.  He was like, “bloody ‘ell look at ‘er tits!”  So of course I had to look and they were worth nearly getting into an accident for, but yeah he’s distractible and distracting.  He called to her, basically harassing her, but I think because of his looks and his accent she smiled like she enjoyed it.  He insisted we get her and bring her home because he needed to get laid.  I told him he’ll get laid, but not then.

Three minutes after that, my cell rings and I answer it and it’s him.  He said, “Oi Constable, it’s your ol’ mate Bogart.  I’m ridin’ in a conver’ibul.  Wotcha fink o’ ‘at!?”  Sometimes his th’s sound like f’s to me.  I told him that’s great but he should put down the phone and enjoy the ride.

The rest of the ride home was filled with more shit like that.  He saw dogs he thought were cool; lots of women who were amazingly not pissed off at the shit he called out to them, though maybe they didn’t understand what he was saying; places he wanted to stop at to check out; and places he wanted to get food from.  He made other phone calls to me and constantly played with everything he saw in the car, messing around with the radio and I had to deter him from digging through Astrid’s glove box.

Then, ten minutes before we got home, he fell asleep.  His mother had told me that he was energetic from anticipation but his medication tends to make him a little sleepy.  I don’t see much change in him from when I first met him at the institution, although I know he’s not experiencing any paranoia or delusions or hallucinations.  All I know is that by the time I got him back to the apartment, I was exhausted and needed a nap myself.

And now I have to go before I describe when Bogart met Astrid, Cola, and Pete.  He already met Pete but didn’t remember him.  I have to go because Bogart’s leaning over the balcony and I can tell he’s planning to jump off.  Not for injury but for the thrill.  He’s a thrill seeker with no sense of safety and will endanger himself without any forethought.  So yeah, more later.

My theme song is “Because You’re Young” by Cock Sparrer.  For both me and Bogart.

 

*******

previous Grimm 194: Irrelevant Thoughts and No Excuses http://wp.me/p41c99-Yq

next Grimm 196: Confusing People and New Flatmates http://wp.me/p41c99-Zu

For a list with links to all the previous journal entries go to: http://wp.me/P41c99-J

Check out the Character Directory Pages to learn about characters mentioned in each post.

 

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 186-210 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

WILL YOU BLOG MARRY ME SAGE DOYLE

sagedoyle:

Well aren’t I a lucky one? This is Hasty’s final post about her trip, and in effect it is the final post about the entire journey. I just feel humbled by this post, and the others. But I’ll come around from my speechlessness to say, yes Hasty I would be honored to blog marry you. And you have to know that whenever I want to tell you to come back soon, I always think at first in my head, “come home”.

Originally posted on hastywords:

The last day of my visit to Boston to stay with Blogger Sage Doyle, author of my favorite online story The Journal of Wall Grimm was harder than I expected.  I had anticipated meeting him for months and then I finally did and I didn’t want to leave.  We packed before we went to bed the night before because we knew we had to be up at 3:30am.  I am not a morning person so I was not amused.  And then I felt bad because Wifey Sage decided to drive us, and Sage Jr decided to go, so because of me the whole family had to get up early.

For the last time, and with all our bags, we met downstairs and Sage pulled me aside and gave me a gift that still makes me go all weak in the knees and weepy.  You can read the whole story

View original 617 more words

Categories: RANDOM GRIMM-NESS | 17 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 194: Irrelevant Thoughts and No Excuses

July 9, 2014

 

It’s been over two weeks since I’ve written in you, my fine confidante Monsieur Journal.  I have some damn good reasons too, but you’re a fine friend, do I need excuses?  Nah, but I’ll give them to you anyway.

But first, here are a series of random thoughts I’ve had over the course of two weeks.  My name is Wall Grimm and I have sporadic and irrelevant thoughts.

WALL GRIMM’S BRAIN ON DISPLAY

1.  Why do the names of many swim strokes sound perverted?  First thing, strokes, there’s that.  So if it has the word stroke in it, I’m going to think bad thoughts.  Breast Stroke.  Back Stroke.  Breast Feet First Stroke, (ummm?).  Human Stroke, (of course).  Heads-up Breast Stroke, (that goes without saying).  Inverted Breast Stroke, (I like to be creative).  Then there’s the Front Crawl.  Corkscrew.  Flutter Back Finning, (I’m intrigued).  Freestyle, (yeah).  Dog Paddle, (doggie’s always good).  And then Total Immersion, (mhm, always).  And yeah, I’m a pervert.

2.  Next thought, clowns.  I’ve never known a clown personally and I’ve never known anyone who did.  Does anyone ever know a clown personally?  That’s all I have to say about that.

3.  Artists find other artists.  People find their own kind.  But who the fuck am I?  I am an amalgam.  No person is like me.  Only parts of others are like parts of me.  But then again, that’s probably true for everyone.

4.  People look really ugly when they yawn.  Except Sophia Loren has never looked ugly a day in her life.  I say that even though she’s old enough to be my grandmother or even great-grandmother. But she’s Italian, so it makes sense.

5.  Why do people have evil laughter in the movies?  I’ve never done anything bad and then went, muwahahahaa.  I’d be more likely to say, oh shit.  Or, oops.  Maybe it’s because I’m not evil.  Or insane.  There’s got to be a level of evil insanity in order to have that laughter.  But then could a person that fucked up be successful with their sinister genius?  I’m not sure about it.  I doubt the authenticity of any character who exhibits deviant glee.

6.  My new landlord Astrid has a condition called Spinal Stenosis.  I’ve decided to refer to it as Spinal Stegosaurus.  Because she has chronic back pain from her spine and those dinosaurs had some fucked up backs.  Also, chronic pain is being sore all the time, so…yeah.

I guess that’s it for random thoughts.

Now, why I haven’t written.  Well I’ve been busy, doing lots of stuff, settling in the new place.  We also had to get some furniture for it because it’s bigger than Pete’s old place.  Also Bogart got out of the hospital on June 30th, but he’s staying with his mother temporarily while she monitors his medication, since he hasn’t been taking it a month yet.  He’s on Fanapt and Lithium.  He’s never had Fanapt before, though he did have Lithium.  The doctors wanted to give it another try with the Lithium because he was much younger when he took it the first time and his chemistry has changed through his adolescence.  Something like that.  I haven’t seen him since he got out, but he calls all the time.  He’s never had a cell phone before so he’s been playing around with it, but he hates texting.  Every time he figures something out on the phone, he gets excited and calls me to tell me all the details about stuff I already know.  His mother knows what to look for in his behavior, if the medication isn’t working, so she’s just looking out for adverse reactions or evidence that it is or isn’t helping.  She also told me why he was arrested to begin with, which I won’t talk about now, but I’ll get around to that at some point.

Pete has met him, but Cola hasn’t.  I’m wondering if I should tell him that Cola’s transgendered or wait and see how he responds to her.  She doesn’t care one way or the other.  I think I’ll wait.  It should be interesting.

So other than about 10 or more phone calls per day from Bogart, we’ve had beach days, moving days, shopping for furniture and household items, also shopping for décor as determined by Cola who has very aesthetic tastes and is surpassing her personal stipend in order to set us up, Fourth of July celebrations, I’ve been running a lot with Iona, having sex a lot with Iona, and trying to quit smoking.  Iona’s been more confident lately since she lost 15lbs.  She came to the beach with us and said it was the first time in a long time that she wore a bikini.  I thought she had a nice body before, but I like her confidence.  It shows through sexually too, so yeah I like it.  She’ll actually have sex with the lights on now, and tries new positions so I’m all for confidence.  But it’s not all about me of course, it’s great she feels good about herself.  She’s so open about it now, the way she describes how she feels about all that.  I never understood the workings of a girl’s brain as far as body image.  It just gets frustrating when girls complain about being fat when they’re not, or ask me repeatedly if they look fat or if something makes them look fat.  Or if I took them out to eat and they had three bites.  I like a girl who eats.  I like a girl who enjoys a dessert without guilt.  And it annoys me the whole fat thing, especially when it’s their own skewed perception of themselves.  So maybe I’ve been insensitive to it, and I know a lot of guys who like certain body types, but body type doesn’t mean anything to me.  Of course when there’s a killer body walking by I’m going to notice.  That goes without saying.  But girls sexualize guys too, so they can’t be hypocritical.  They judge too.  There are guys they won’t look at or go after.  There’s superficiality coming from both genders.  Mostly I’ll fuck just about anyone.  I think I’ve said that more than once before.

Ok, did any of that explain why I haven’t written?  Not really, but who cares.  I’ve been busy and other than all that which has been keeping me busy, things have been non-eventful, which in my life is kind of a blessing.  That’s all I have to say.

 

*******

previous Grimm 193: Visiting Bogart http://wp.me/p41c99-VB

next Grimm 195: Distractibility and Seeking Thrills http://wp.me/p41c99-Zm

For a list with links to all the previous journal entries go to: http://wp.me/P41c99-J

Check out the Character Directory Pages to learn about characters mentioned in each post.

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 186-210 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 18 Comments

Hasty and HastyKid Return to Oklahoma

Hasty and I decided to write our final posts individually, so here it is, my last post about Hasty’s visit up to Boston.  Writing about her going home brings a little sadness reflective of driving her to the airport and the inevitable goodbye.

Hasty and HastyKid returned to Oklahoma on June 29th.  We talked about my possibly visiting the Hasty’s with my family at some point.  She says there’s nothing there, but I’m sure we’d have a good time no matter what.

Before I talk about her departure, there’s someone I forgot to mention.  When we were at Hampton, I found a toy soldier in the sand at our spot on the beach.  I was excited to find the soldier and put him in my pocket to take home.  But, um, I forgot him in my pocket and he went through the washer and dryer, and now, not only is he an amputee, but he also has a flaccid weapon:

soldier

Sorry, man.

Anyway, Hasty honored me with a copy of her book, Depression’s Dance, which she signed for me:

hasty's book         inscription

As you can see, she inscribed it to “Sage”.  She asked me if I wanted her to write it out to my real name or my penname, but it seemed fitting for her to sign it to my penname.  “Sage” has become the name which is highly depictive of my true self, the essence of who I am.  Taking on the penname has helped me to find myself in many ways, as I have been otherwise anonymous and have had interactions without physical appearance or nonverbal behavior dictating those interactions, human involvement strictly through words alone.  As a writer and a person, it’s been a fascinating and unanticipated journey.  Also, during Hasty’s visit, she and HastyKid called me Sage, which I really liked.  Sometimes I think it might have taken me a moment to respond if I was occupied with something.  I also referred to Hasty as Hasty, and it was a struggle to introduce her to people using her real name.  HastyKid I referred to by her real name and my son called her Junior.  “What’s in a name?  That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

Anyway, the morning we brought her to the airport, we all got up at 3:30 am and left by 4.  We made our second trip to Dunkin’ Donuts for coffee and breakfast.  The first was the day we went to Boston.  You can’t visit Massachusetts and not go to a Dunkin’ Donuts.  Along the way, we sang Green Day, or at least I did.  At some point we were talking about sports and activities the kids were involved in throughout their lives.  This may have taken place on another day, however I do recall that on the trip to the airport, Hasty told us that once during a soccer game HastyKid was playing, a hot air balloon landed in the middle of their field.  Later when we were leaving from the airport, we saw hot air balloons flying above the highway, so I photographed them and texted them to Hasty.

Here is Hasty and HastyKid at the airport.  It’s a little blurry, but everything was happening so fast.  It was very sad and difficult to say goodbye, and we all still miss them.

goodbye

Hasty sent me this picture of HastyKid on the airplane wearing a Boston sweatshirt and reading “Make Way for Ducklings”, which is a children’s book about a police officer who stopped traffic in order to allow a mother duck and her ducklings to cross a busy Boston street safely.  It’s based on a true story and while in Boston, we visited the little statues of the ducklings at the Public Garden.  I bought HastyKid the book while we were at the airport and I was glad to hear that she loved the book and read it a couple times on the plane.

HK make way for ducklings

And as I said, while my family and I were heading home from the airport, we saw these hot air balloons, which reminded me of Hasty and HastyKid drifting away from us on their journey home.  It was a beautiful symbol, but again very sad.

hot air balloons

It was an incredible connection I believe we had, and Hasty left with us all a little in love with her, and wanting more.

Thanks for visiting Hasty and HastyKid, come back soon.

Categories: HASTY VISITS SAGE IN BOSTON | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

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