January 13, 2013
I haven’t written in my journal for a long time for these reasons:
1. Someone pilfered my journal. Yeah, that happened. I will tell you Invisible Journal Reading people all about it at a later time…
2. When I recovered my journal, the pilferer had used the final pages in order to write messages intended for me. I will share some of those messages with you also at a later time…
3. Once I realized I had run out of pages, I went on pursuit for a new journal. This was a challenging task. I went from store to store and searched high and low. I bought a couple and scrawled some entries that looked something like this:
“MY NAME IS WALL GRIMM AND THIS IS MY NEW JOURNAL ah fucking hell damnit I hate it”
“Today was dumb, I brushed my stupid teeth, are you happy now? Are you satisfied?”
Those were three of the journals I selected. Finally I started to just grab journals and sit in the store holding them for periods of time. This felt like the right approach. Then I realized I was still trying too hard, but on the right track. So I thought I’d get really high, then go fondle some journals. One day, I was sitting in Barnes and Noble, with this journal in my lap. I was fingering the pages, looking at the cover. Then Billie Holiday began playing over the speaker and I knew it was the right journal. I will explain…
My name is Wall Grimm and this is my new journal.
WALL GRIMM’S NEW JOURNAL, THE JOURNAL OF GRIMM
Billie Holiday, especially when combined with red wine, makes me horny. Maybe I should clarify. The sound of her voice, the music, the melody, is so sad and deep and soothing it just moves through my blood like a drug and reaches the passionate part of me deep inside. I get so passionate about things sometimes it feels like a need for sex. Then I get horny. Sounds like I’m a pervert freak, but it just means I’m passionate.
So now I’m listening to Billie Holiday singing “Summertime” and drinking cheap chianti and making my first journal entry of both the journal and the new year. Yeah, my old buddy journal missed all the debauchery, this I will tell you about later as well…
Dear Imaginary Journal Reading People, we have a lot of catching up to do, I have a lot to share, a lot to fill you in on, particularly about Emma, Lauren, and Pete, so stay tuned…
For now, I will tell you one story.
WALL GRIMM’S FIRST JOURNAL TALE OF THE NEW YEAR:
This is the story about my accidental homosexual experience. My friends and I went to a rave Friday night and got real high on ecstasy. I like dancing at raves sometimes, just kind of letting the music move your body, mostly while you have your eyes closed. You can feel the bodies around you, and it’s like a cosmic kind of thing, microcosmic in a small world within a world, just the energy, every sense is heightened. Friday night I was really lost in it, and then sometimes you get so lost like that and you get a little dizzy because you feel like you’re floating away, and the floor drops out beneath you so I moved over by the wall to kind of lean. This guy comes beside me and says “you’re hot.” Since I learned my friend Pete is gay, I always think when I encounter a gay guy, ‘what if this was Pete’ I don’t know why, maybe I just want to be sure to treat him right. Not that I’d be prejudiced otherwise, since I never was. But it’s just a little weird when a gay guy that you don’t know tells you you’re hot. Maybe he thought I was gay, who knows. But I was high on ecstasy which ALTERS EVERYTHING.
So instead of my saying, “thanks but I’m straight,” I got kind of a little too flattered and said “thanks” because if a gay guy approaches a strange straight guy in a bar and says “you’re hot” if you’re that guy, be flattered, because it means you probably are, since the guy is risking getting his ass kicked to tell you. Just say, “thanks but I’m straight” then there will be peace on Earth. Or on one piece of Earth, which can spread.
Then he said, “can I touch you?” And I was like, yeah, which was a mistake. Because when you’re on E, every touch feels sooooooo good. So he touched my arm and slowly moved onto my chest, and as he moved his hand down to my abdomen and began rubbing my stomach, that’s when I got hard. Now I don’t think I need to explain that I’m not gay, but again, when you’re on E, every possibility is beautiful. It’s kind of like a psychological orgy is constantly taking place and you’re ceaselessly on the verge of orgasm. Hence the name Ecstasy.
So I get hard and I think he must have noticed my arousal because then he slid his hand over my crotch and started feeling me. I think I may have moaned, and he started kissing my neck when Dave came over. He said, “Grimm, what the fuck, that’s a dude.” I opened my eyes, and said, “oh yeah, oops.”
So, yeah, I walked away, hard as hell, and zeroed in on the first girl who looked like a hippy, because hippy girls on E are easy. They love everyone, and sex is all about love for them. I’m not a dog, I just needed a little more than my hand. Because strangely enough, jerking off on ecstasy is no fun. You get so caught up in how good it feels, it takes forever, which kind of sucks in a public restroom.
So I find this cute hippy, walk over to her, grab her and start kissing her. When she seems into it enough, I pick her up, while still kissing her, and carry her over to Dave, get the keys to his car, and I carry her to the car. Then we had some fun, and there we spent the rest of the night, laughing and talking, after the sex of course. But by the time Dave and them came out to leave, the car was out of gas, because we had it running for the heat, but forgot to turn it off now and then. So we had to walk, and she came home with me, where Lauren is no longer staying (I’ll explain later…), but Pete is (I’ll explain later….)
Now it’s early Sunday morning and she’s still here, and I still don’t know her name. I kind of like knowing people intimately without knowing their names. It makes my life mysterious. But what I want to know is why people never seem to want to leave my apartment once they get here.
Anyway, you and and I have a lot of catching up to do, Imaginary Journal Reading People. In the meanwhile, I have a hippy in my bed and a Pete on my sofa, an Emma in my heart, and too many drugs in my soul.
previous Grimm 39: The Night at Pete’s, & Dolores http://wp.me/p41c99-6D
next Grimm 41: Pete & Grimm’s Punk Philosophy http://wp.me/p41c99-6O
For a chronological list of links to all the journal entries, refer to the Journal Entries Index Page http://wp.me/P41c99-J
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