“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 61: Dinner, Pokeno, Introspection, & the Awesome Shit

March 3, 2013

Yesterday afternoon Sweetheart and I went to my parents house for dinner.  My mom had stopped by spontaneously earlier in the week and said she missed me and I never visit anymore.  Then she invited me to dinner.  She never mentioned my blue hair, probably because she’s not surprised.  She expects me to do crazy things, because I do.  So we went there and my dad hated my hair and kept making stupid comments about it, and my mom was like shut up, but using other words.  My parents are cool, my dad’s not an asshole, and my mom’s a good mom.  I used to visit them a lot more.  But now, when I think of visiting them, I’m usually high or drunk and I don’t want them to see me like that.  I told my mom she should stop in the bookstore because (I’m usually relatively clean and) she would like it.  She loves to read.

So anyway, my mom made lasagna, mmmmmmmm.  I miss my mom’s cooking, I miss homemade meals.  I mean, I can cook, I’m actually a pretty good cook, but I just don’t do it.  I don’t really buy the food necessary to use for cooking.  Everything I eat is quick prepare shit.  Or I eat a lot of pasta, just plain pasta no sauce.  Just pasta with olive oil and garlic powder, salt and red pepper.  When I’m motivated, I get some romano cheese from the store.  That lasts a while, if you get the kind that needs to be grated.  So that’s my regular meal.  If I have oregano I add that, but I don’t always have oregano.  My dad grows basil and gives me some fresh leaves sometimes.

Anyway, so my parents were really curious about Sweetheart, they were thinking she was my new girlfriend or something.  But she was saying that she was going to be leaving in a few weeks once the weather warms up.  She’s planning on going cross country.  Part of me is tempted to go with her.

At some point after dinner, I had to take a shit.  Like you do after a good meal.  So I went into the bathroom for like 20 minutes and damn it felt like I shit a horse.  You know one of those shits that afterwards it feels like you’re completely empty and it feels so good.  And the feeling lasts for a while.  You’re like, damn that shit felt good, the shit I took two hours ago.  So I take this awesome shit and come out and my parents and Sweetheart have Pokeno all set up to play, which was cool.  We used to play that all the time when I was a kid.  But I wanted to have a cigarette first after that awesome meal, followed by that awesome shit.  You know, cigarettes are great after or during awesome moments.  I filled myself a glass of wine, tossed it back, tossed back two more, then took a fourth outside with a smoke.

Then I got sad, and I guess that’s the point of this journal entry more than anything else.  Because I was kind of feeling like going to my folks would open up the door for them to bug me about shit like drinking too much or wasting my life or just being stupid.  But now, I don’t even know if they think that about me, or if I just think that about myself.  Because nothing like that happened at all, besides my dad getting on me about my hair, but not in a bad way.  He’s just a wise ass.  So the dinner was a good time and it was nice and I’m glad I went.  My sister, that I never write about, should have come too.  It would’ve been cool.  So I got sad in a nostalgic kind of way.  It made me think of when I was a kid and things were easier and my mistakes didn’t have such dire consequences.  I mean there was some bad shit that made it difficult, but it still was easier because people were in control of me.  Now nobody’s in control of me, not even myself.

I stood out there with the wine and a cigarette, and it was kind of a nice day, not so cold and the sun kept trying to come out.  Spring’s coming, and I love that feeling, the anticipation of Spring.  It’s like a newness and being cleansed.  So by this time in the year, just as the Winter has gotten to be too much and you begin to get tired and hopeless, the Spring makes its face known, and lifts your spirits, gives you back a little hope.  Morgan would say that Demeter is awakening.  She mourns for Persephone over the Winter.  That’s why there’s sadness, because the Earth is in mourning.  Maybe I should go with Sweetheart, I kind of need a change in the way things are going in my life.

I went back in after my smoke and played Pokeno and it was fun, Sweetheart said she wanted to be their daughter, and she leaned to me and asked, “how come you’re so messed up when you have such good parents.”  And I couldn’t respond to that.


previous Grimm 60: The Gay Bar, Hasty, & Wall Grimm’s Ecstasy Epiphany http://wp.me/p41c99-a5

next Grimm 62: The Tattoos, Hasty, Patrick, & Getting Zozzled http://wp.me/p41c99-af

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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Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 51-75 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

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4 thoughts on ““The Journal of Wall Grimm” 61: Dinner, Pokeno, Introspection, & the Awesome Shit

  1. I’m kinda glad these don’t read like they were written by someone drunk, or tripping or rolling or stoned.

    • I tried to write some of Amon-Re once way back when while I was under the influence and it sucked. Part of it was kept and it exists in the Amon-Re section where he narrates in first person. It’s how that section came about. Other than that I’d only written poetry that way. I’m not a good writer unless I’m lucid.

  2. I don’t mean I’m glad you were sober when you wrote them, so much as I’m glad they all sound the same and you didn’t try to make drunk passages and stoned passages and acid passages, as they should naturally be illegible if accurate.

    • Oh right. Well, I guess I couldn’t make Grimm do any entries while he’s messed up because of my own experience, nothing makes any sense. Plus, he tends to write after the fact for the most part. Very few entries involve him writing it in present time. Oh there is one early one that you probably already read where he writes something then the next day he’s like, “what the fuck was I talking about.” What he’s referring to is actually context from one of my own journals.


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