Monthly Archives: January 2014

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 158: Instincts, Sex, An Oldmanism, and Grimm’s First Ever Steve Martinism

January 29, 2014

Bogart’s mother called me.  She got my number from the institution since I had given it to staff to put with his personal stuff that’s locked up.  She wanted to know who I was and why I wanted anything to do with her son.  I told her we had met in the institution and became friends and that I was hoping I could help him out whenever he’s released.  She said that Bogart, or Neil as she calls him, doesn’t have any friends and when he does, they don’t last long, and what makes me think I could help him, and why would she want him hanging around another “mental.”  I replied that I’m kind of a loyal friend, through thick and thin unless someone fucks me over, and that just being his friend could help him, and that I’m not a mental, I put myself there because I was depressed that my baby died.

Then I asked if he was getting out soon.  She said she didn’t know, but anytime soon would be too soon. She asked if he ever told me about the most recent event in his life that put him in there, because he’s too insane for prison.  I told her no.  Basically he doesn’t seem to be very clear about it himself.  He thinks he might have committed a crime but he’s uncertain and confused and offered me no details.  Her response was, of course, that’s because he’s insane and delusional, and that when he’s expected to get out, she’d call and tell me what he did, and then I can decide if I still want to help him.  I asked why she couldn’t tell me now, but she refused and only said that he’s dangerous, and I wouldn’t be able to control him unless I was with him for 24 hours per day.

We ended the conversation, and though I felt she was very negative about her own son, I had to assume that she knew what she was talking about.  Instinctively I had a strange sense that controlling him meant protecting other people from him.  I mean, if he punches me in the face and slams me against the wall by my throat because I’m his favorite person in the world, as he says…well, that doesn’t seem safe for the people he likes less than me, or those who piss him off.  I’ve seen him attack the people who piss him off, and either I or staff had to break it up, otherwise he wouldn’t have stopped until the people he attacked were just mounds of blood and bone.

But anyway, onto other things.  On Sunday I went for coffee with Iona and went back to her place and we fucked all night and I ended up staying over.  When I got back home on Monday morning, shortly before I was supposed to leave with Howard for Blues Monday, he was wicked pissed at me.  He was saying shit like he didn’t know where I was or when I was coming home and he and Daisy were worried when they didn’t hear from me and when I never returned.  I was like wtf Howard, really?  I explained that I kinda come and go and wander randomly.  I’m going to school and work and I have a social life and I get laid, I need sex, a lot of sex, especially since that medication has been completely out of my system, and I’m not going to bring a girl back to his house and fuck under his roof, that’s just awkward.  Basically he knows I’m prone to trouble, so he even worried about me before I was living with him.  But I assured him I’m not drinking and drugging or anything bad.  Damn, might as well have moved in with my freakin’ parents.  Though I guess it’s nice to know he cares.

Last thing I feel like commenting on that’s been going on recently is my abilities.  I got a lot of exercise with them in the institution, being able to block and filter, but not a lot of practice with opening them up, which I’ve begun to work on once again.  At least I think I can read Gary Oldman (II)’s mind and she can read mine.  But if I look her in the eye too long, she’ll pounce on my face.  She’s good though, she doesn’t use her claws.

And now that I’m on it, here’s a Lord Gary Oldmanism.


According to the internet, which is like a modern day Confucius to a shitload of idiots, sometimes including myself, Lord Gary Oldman said:

“I was quiet, a loner. I was one of those children where, if you put me in a room and gave me some crayons and pencils, you wouldn’t hear from me for nine straight hours. And I was always drawing racing cars and rockets and spaceships and planes, things that were very fast that would take me away.”

And I don’t really have much to say about that except it kind of reminds me of me as a kid.  And I’m still kind of the same way, except with a journal now, and my harmonica, and Gary Oldman (II).  And that’s all I need.  Ok now I have to include a Steve Martinism.


From the film “The Jerk”:

“I don’t need this or this. Just this ashtray… And this paddle game.  The ashtray and the paddle game and that’s all I need… And this remote control.  The ashtray, the paddle game, and the remote control, and that’s all I need… And these matches.  The ashtray, and these matches, and the remote control, and the paddle ball… And this lamp.  The ashtray, this paddle game, and the remote control, and the lamp, and that’s all I need.  And that’s all I need too. I don’t need one other thing, not one… I need this….”

I love that fucking film.  And my dick is sometimes my special purpose too.  Now obviously, the theme song for today’s journal entry has to be “The Thermos Song” by Steve Martin, from “The Jerk”.


previous Grimm 157: Bogart the Shelter Dog and Ernie & Burt

next Grimm 159: Wall Grimm’s List of Identities

For a chronological list of links to all the journal entries, refer to the Journal Entries Index Page

For posts that aren’t journal entries, feel free to explore the Categories in the left side bar or the other pages above, including the Character Directories which list the posts each character is mentioned in.

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 156-170 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 157: Bogart the Shelter Dog and Ernie & Burt

January 26, 2014

I went to see Bogart yesterday and he is pretty much the last of the crew that I knew there.  Maybe one or two others are still there, but they came right before I left.  Even Sadie, Kendall Goth Girl, and the guy who was always trying to grope me are gone.  So it’s just Bogart.  Like a shelter dog that never gets adopted because no matter how loveable he is, he’s too wild to train or he just doesn’t fit in.  When I first got there he rushed me and wrapped his arms around me.  He’s taller than me but he just gripped onto my body like he was in need of comfort.  Then he started crying.  His sobs were as liberated and loud as a two-year-old’s.  He begged me to get him out of there, he wanted to leave, he wanted to come home with me.  I told him that maybe we can make that happen, but he doesn’t even have rights with regards to decision making that pertains to him.  It all depends on his mother.  Then he said he hates her and called her a stupid fucking cow.  I don’t know if this is just a natural mood change for him or if something triggered this, but I think I’d rather have him punch me in the face with elation at my visit than to see him so broken.  I gave the staff my phone number to put with his stuff that’s locked up, so if he ever gets out before I have the chance to see him again, he’ll have it and he can contact me.

Anyway, I’m finally putting in my journal the things Kristin gave me when I was leaving.  I wish I had a chance to say goodbye, she was really cool.

She gave me this drawing of a bunch of symbols, and said it was for my protection:

kristin's protection drawing

Then she gave me this poem:

kristin poem

I think maybe she was in love with me, but she was so cryptic and profound, who knows.  Anyway, it’s too bad I’ll probably never see her again, but it was awesome to have crossed ways for a least a brief time in this life.

After visiting Bogart, I went to my mom’s to dig through some of my old stuff.  While I was there, she pulled out a box of her own, and there were a few drawings that I did as a kid that I thought were pretty funny.

The first one she had written that I was 4 1/2 years old when I drew it:

Grimm's scarecrow drawing

So I have a scarecrow, with what seems to be a crow on his arm, so he kind of sucks at his job.  And he’s standing by what seems to be a haystack, kind of in the shape of a barn, but I’m just going with hay stack.  And a jack-o-lantern.  All this in a field of tulips.  So what the fuck does the farmer grow?  Tulips?  And the scarecrow is meant to protect the tulips.  He’s also got to guard that hay, can’t lose that hay.  Good thing he has his good old buddy jack-0-lantern by his side.  But I think the scarecrow is too friendly with that big happy face, so the crow, who looks kind of like a duck, has no worries.  And I remember when I was a kid drawing the blue sky on all the outdoor pictures, like the sky is just above in this layer of blue overhead, and not all around.  It’s also good that the farmer mowed the side of the haystack where the scarecrow is, so he has a place to stand.  This is like the farmland of the misfits.

Ok then I drew this picture of a cop and a guy in jail, I don’t know how old I was when I drew it:

grimm's jail drawing

The cop is so huge and the guy in jail is half his size, so I guess I’ll assume that the cop is closer.  I’ll give myself enough credit for having that kind of perspective, so maybe I was older when I drew it.  The cop has a grin, kind of a smirk on his face.  Not really a smile because it’s kind of crooked, which is interesting.  The guy in jail looks sad as he stands in his striped jail suit.  At least he seems to have a window, even though it’s all barred up.  It looks more like a cage than a jail though.  The guy has no place to sit or shit.

I see the cop has a billy club that looks a lot like a banana, or a dick, not intentional I’m sure.  And he has a holster with a gun that also looks like a banana or a dick.  He has handcuffs and a chain.  What the fuck is the chain for?  I’m going to assume it has the keys to the jail on it, but I don’t see any keys.  Maybe it’s a necklace.  A pearl necklace that he wants to give the crook.  Which is why he has his dicks out, because he’s going to jerk off on the guy’s neck.  That’s why he has that smirk and the criminal doesn’t look so happy.  Obviously I’m just filling in all that, I wouldn’t have drawn that as a kid.  Unless I was thinking Uncle Dan was the criminal.  But I won’t go there right now.  I do notice that the cop’s shoes are nicely tied, and that he’s so huge, the floor seems to cave in a little beneath him.

Ok my last pictures are of Ernie and Burt from Sesame Street when I was 4:

grimm's ernie and burt drawings

I like these, but they look like Ernie and Burt on acid or something.  Ernie’s head doesn’t look so much like a football and his ears are really sticking out, and his eyes are rolling around in different directions.  In fact, he looks more like Burt than Burt does, with that unibrow.  Burt unfortunately looks like he’s being electrocuted.  He’s surrounded by all these blue swirls and he’s looking at something specific.  Maybe he’s freakin’ out from the acid and has built the blue light of protection, but I think he’s in a different dimension from Ernie altogether.

Anyway, it was kind of cool to go through all this old stuff, but my mom was getting sentimental.  I liked doing it though.  It would be even cooler if I could remember back to what I was thinking when I drew this shit.  You’d think it would trigger some memories but it doesn’t.  It’s messed up how life is that we can’t retain all our memories.  The mind is kind of a randomly malfunctioning thing.

My theme song for today is “Tubthumping” by Chubawamba because I remember this song from when I was a kid and I loved it, which is kind of interesting when you think about how my life has turned out so far.


previous Grimm 156: Grimm the Boring Old Guy & Retrospect is Always Too Late

next Grimm 158: Instincts, Sex, An Oldmanism, & Grimm’s First Ever Steve Martinism

For a chronological list of links to all the journal entries, refer to the Journal Entries Index Page

For posts that aren’t journal entries, feel free to explore the Categories in the left side bar or the other pages above, including the Character Directories which list the posts each character is mentioned in.

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 156-170 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

“The Journal of Sage Doyle” In the Style of Grimm: Sage’s Trip & Being Young and Stupid

May 24, 2013


I figured that just this once I would make a journal entry as myself even though Sage Doyle is a pen name.  Every word will be true, but I have to say, I’m not condoning drug use in anyway.  This was back when I was young and stupid.  Now I’m young and smart.

Ok, so my name is Sage Doyle and this is my journal.


Having Romani blood, AKA the blood of a Gypsy, I like to travel.  One Summer, when I was 22, I traveled all over the country on a Greyhound bus.  I bought a travel pass that I tried to use a year later but…yeah, you’ll see what happens.

The pass was supposed to be a 30 day pass.  The way it was explained to me was that the days didn’t have to be consecutive.  Every day I traveled would get marked off, but not the days between the bus rides.  The expiration day was a year after the date of purchase.

(The same year I bought the ticket, Greyhound sent my backpack to Orange County, California, when I went to Las Vegas, Nevada.  I traveled for two weeks with nothing but the clothes on my back and the money in my pocket.  The backpack was eventually returned to me in Texas).

Anyway, I was 23 when I planned to travel the country again on the pass.  I had a couple of months to travel according to the expiration date.  I spent some time with friends and said goodbye.  A couple of them saw me off at South Station in Boston.  I took the bus, headed to St. Augustine, Florida where a friend of mine was living at the time.

On the way down, as I had something like an iPod and my eyes were closed, this old guy next to me curled up beside me and reached between my legs to grope me.  I was like, “wtf?? Hey!”

I stood and moved next to this other guy who told me he was a punk turned hippy and he gave me a drum stick that he chewed up one day after doing too much acid.  I still have the drum stick.

There was a change over for the buses at some point and I ended up with a new group of passengers.  At a stopover in Virginia, I went to the diner with three guys who just got out of prison that day.  I don’t know what crimes they committed but they were pretty cool guys.

Once I made it to St. Augustine where my pregnant friend was living, I decided I loved the town so much that I wanted to move there.  I planned to travel then go back there, move into a corner in their hallway and pay them $50 per month.  She had other roommates so it was the only space available.  Someone else was already living in the closet.  It took me over a year to return, and I did move in with her.

My friend is the sweetest person in the world, so I catered to her since she was pregnant and single, gave her foot massages because she was waitressing and had really tired feet by the end of the day.  She worked in a Cajun restaurant, and this is when the story gets a little funny.

They had these two kittens, maybe a couple of months old, and they couldn’t keep the kittens and didn’t know what to do with them.  I had this genius idea that I would take them with me to New Mexico, because last year when I was in Santa Fe, we rescued a kitten at the hostel and I brought it to this vet who took it in with no charge for care.  So of course, I didn’t imagine that between St. Augustine and Santa Fe there would be any other shelter or vet.

These kittens were like my children though.  I was trippin’ during much of my visit because a roommate paid me in acid to read his Tarot cards.  I was in a special frame of mind.  So I’d go to sleep at night on the couch and the kittens would be jumping all over my head.  I was having visions that I was a lion and the kittens were my cubs.  I’d get up in the morning and feed them jambalaya left over from the Cajun restaurant.

The day before I was set out to embark upon my trip, first stop New Orleans, I knew I had to create a carrier of some sort for these kittens.  I spent the entire night awake, trippin’ on acid, designing the most elaborate kitten carrier in the world out of a huge cardboard box.  The carrier had rooms.  There was a bedroom, a kitchen, a toilet, a parlor, and a play room.  There was a kitchen table, a bed, a litter box, a kitten sofa, and toys.  There were toys hanging from the ceiling for them to play with.  It had wall paper and carpets.  I had a flashlight in there that I could turn on so it wouldn’t be dark all the time.  I cut out windows.  It took me hours to create this masterpiece and I was so happy for the kittens that they’d be traveling in such luxury.

The guy who gave me the acid drove me to the St. Augustine Greyhound at 5am, and I tried to get on the bus with the huge box in my arms, but the bus driver wouldn’t let the kittens on the bus.  Well no shit Sage.

Anyway, I gave the box back to the roommate and I was really sad to say goodbye to my cubs, but you’ve got to move on in life when circumstances aren’t in your favor.  So I took the bus to Jacksonville, to catch one on the way to New Orleans.  In Jacksonville, they told me that my pass didn’t exist, they had no such pass, it was invalid.  I was like, “I traveled down from Boston, I switched buses en route, made it to St. Augustine, and from St. Augustine to here, and now you tell me it’s invalid.”  I don’t remember the argument but I decided to go outside, have a cigarette and think about what to do next.  Some guy, who happened to be from New Orleans, bummed a smoke off of me and we started talking.  He’d just been kicked off the bus.  We decided to hitchhike together.

I told him that what I had was ours to share, and basically that was $200 and my backpack, many of the contents of which I ended up leaving on a sidewalk in New Orleans in order to lighten the load.  I did that because we eventually left New Orleans to hitchhike all over the country.

We walked away from that Jacksonville Greyhound station, where we had both been stranded. We each took a hit of acid and hitched our first ride.  And that journey across the States is another story all together.

Categories: NOTES FROM SAGE DOYLE | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 18 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 156: Grimm the Boring Old Guy & Retrospect is Always Too Late

January 20, 2014

First week of school went great.  A lot of cute girls, but many of them are too young.  That sucks when I think 18 year olds are too young for me, says something about my age.  They just act young too, but they can be really flirty.  Most of them are just getting out into the world on their own, especially those who are staying in the dorms and/or are from out of town or state.  I already got invited to a party but I declined.  I’m like the boring old guy, in a way.  24 years old and I’m the boring old guy.  They just don’t know the shit I’ve been through, not that it’s so much in comparison with other people who’ve had it worse, but it just makes me feel detached from many people.  The thing is, I’m aware of my shit, and I value it, because there’s a lot worse out there, so I’m grateful for my own life.  The grass is not always greener on the other side.  And I’m glad I wasn’t raised in wealth, because I think it’s hard to appreciate the little things when you’re rich, and it’s also too easy to pass judgment on others who don’t share that kind of wealthy existence.  I’m glad I not only appreciate my life, but I value my experience and the person I’ve become and am becoming as a result of it.  Which is basically a boring old guy, I guess.

Saturday I went to visit Bogart.  Again he was so excited to see me he assaulted me.  My eye is kind of yellow and purple now from last week.  This Saturday, he pushed me up against the wall and held me there by the throat.  He said, “ya bloody git, ya wanker, me Constable!”  He gave me a slobber kiss on the forehead and punched me in the stomach, then hugged me while I got my breath.  This is how he shows affection, which I’ve only seen him do to me, other guys piss him off so the violence is true, hostile aggression.  With women, it’s all about sex.  He still hasn’t been able to fuck Kendall Goth Girl, but she shows him her tits while he jerks off.  Sadie has jerked him off.  He says he tried to avoid that, but he couldn’t help it.  Yet he was very proud of himself that more didn’t happen.  He says it’s great because she says his dick is so big and beautiful and she loves it, and talks like that while she’s jerking him off.  I’d say that was awesome, if she wasn’t cognitively impaired.  So he’s impressed with himself for not fucking her, and I’m impressed with myself for not kicking his ass every time he attacks me just from being glad to see me.  We’re quite the comrades.

Kristin hates him and every time he goes near her, she screams at the top of her lungs, “get away from me!  get away from me!  get away from me!”  Over and over again.  He laughs and asks why, and it takes him a while to go away.  The staff never responds quickly to altercations.

Otherwise, I’d say maybe he’s gotten better from the treatment, only because he says he doesn’t hear voices anymore.  He says he’s calmed down a little too, but I don’t notice it because he’s glad to see me so he gets all energetic and manic.  I asked if he knew when he’d be getting out, he said he had no idea, his mother’s keeping him in.  She hasn’t gone back to see him for two weeks.  He says he’s getting stir crazy and wants out.  At this time, I couldn’t have him live with me anyway because after I left there, I went and moved in with Howard.  Bogart would not be a good fit with Howard.  I think Howard would be good for him, and Howard might even tolerate him, but Howard is set in his ways and wouldn’t like his domain disturbed.  I know this because I had a problem with Howard, myself.

Saturday after I moved in, we decided to watch the first season of “Boardwalk Empire” since he has it on DVD.  The show is amazing.  At one point I was commenting about the character Mickey Doyle and the actor who plays him.  I was like, “holy shit!  That fucking guy looks just like Tre Cool.  You know from Green Day?  That’s fucking Tre Cool!”

Howard told me not to use that kind of language in the house.  I was like, “come on, seriously?  I know you talk like that.”

He said, “maybe, but not in my own home where my wife lives.  It’s disrespectful.”

So I said ok, sorry.  Then he asked me if I talked that way around Emma.  I wasn’t sure since I never see her much anymore, but I said probably.  He said that the kind of lady I should pursue should be the kind I’d want to treat like a lady, and that kind of lady I need to watch my mouth around.  I guessed that’s the kind of lady Emma is.  Then he told me that I’m 24 now and need to grow up because I’m a man, I need to start behaving like one, and he commented on how I was slouched down in the chair looking like a slob, like a teenager.  wtf.

I stood up and said, “fuck you Howard.  This is your house but you invited me to live here, so I live here, which makes it my home, and I was comfortable.  So fuck you.  I don’t want to be scrutinized and insulted in my home.”  Then as I was heading to the door, I said, “You know, I think bad enough about myself without you fucking putting me down, I don’t fucking need that shit.  We’re just sitting here watching a fucking tv show for fuck’s sake and you’re giving me shit.  Well fuck you.”  Then I walked out with my cigarettes, but forgot my coat because I didn’t know where it was, and I even left my cell phone behind.  But it was snowing a heavy, thick snow.  It looked awesome anyway as the snow piled in the trees making them all white.  It wasn’t that cold, but it was after a while without my coat.  Yet I walked away from that house, feeling like the juvenile Howard saw me as.  I guess I didn’t prove him wrong.  I walked and walked and got lost, since I never been out this way before, and the dark and the snow disoriented me.  Howard found me eventually.  He pulled up next to me a couple hours later in a tow truck that his buddy was driving.  I got in only because I was freezing and we didn’t say a word to each other, but I was embarrassed and felt stupid.

Yesterday he told me that I was right, which I know took him a lot to admit.  He said I could have proven my point better, of course he had to throw that comment in there.  But he said though I could have proven it better, I was right.  It was none of his business how I conduct myself, and why would I want to take advice from an old man.  He told me that he was a young man not so different from me, and some things he had to learn the hard way, he was trying to prevent me from going through that.  But he doesn’t understand that I’m already on that path, and I’m better than I was.  I agree though, I could have handled it better.  I didn’t handle it like a man at all.  I think a man would have commented back without the colorful language, and confronted it in a dignified way.  Or maybe even walk away and prove him wrong.  That’s the retrospect.  Unfortunately there is no retrospect until after the fact.  I just have to not be so impulsive, and have some forethought, or just be present, and keep my mouth shut until I know the best thing to say.  At least I’m not as impulsive as Bogart though.

Anyway, it’s resolved.  Blues Monday today.  Today the band will help me write the music for the song I wrote for Emma, so that’s cool.  My theme song today is “Dance Me to the End of Love” by Leonard Cohen, because he’s fucking awesome and writes good lyrics, so I want my song for Emma to be kinda like his stuff.


previous Grimm 155: The Blues and The New

next Grimm 157: Bogart the Shelter Dog and Ernie & Burt

For a chronological list of links to all the journal entries, refer to the Journal Entries Index Page

For posts that aren’t journal entries, feel free to explore the Categories in the left side bar or the other pages above, including the Character Directories which list the posts each character is mentioned in.

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 156-170 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 155: The Blues and The New

January 16, 2014

It was great to go back to Blues Monday.  That helped a lot and the guys were real supportive.  At one point I was outside having a butt and Howard joined me, though he doesn’t smoke.  He said, “I bet it’s hard to be where you’re at, surrounded by too many memories, so if you need a place to stay, you got a place to stay with me and Daisy.  Right now, or sometime.  Anytime.  As long as you need.  No rent, nothing.”  I said thanks, I’d think about it.  Then he added, “I know we’re old and you’d probably rather be with your young friends, but you’d eat well, have peace and quiet.  We have a spare room.  And if it helps your decision, you’d be doing us a favor.  You could help around the house doing things we have a hard time with these days.”  He said this last bit with the pride of a guy who has never needed anyone in his life, the swallowed pride.

To me that sounded ideal because if there’s a way I can live rent free with none of those kinds of expenses, that would help me a lot.  Plus, if he needs my help, I can do it in a way that he doesn’t have to swallow any more pride or suffer any indignities, based solely on his age and the fact that he physically can’t accommodate the internal status of himself as a man.  I said, “Well I like the sound of that.  I just need to check with Pete to see if he can manage without my contributions.  He has, I just don’t know how much he struggles without it because he doesn’t complain.”

So that was Monday.  I talked to Pete yesterday and he said he’d do all right.  I made sure he was being honest about that.  I think I need a change of scene.  I was thinking about it anyway and the only options I could come up with, which wouldn’t cost me too much money, were living with my parents or moving back in with Paula.  I’m not going to live with my parents because then they’d be hyper vigilant about my activities and moods, whatever.  Moving back in with Paula would mean I’d go back to being her kept boy.  I’m going to call Howard today and take him up on his offer.  Maybe I can move in on Saturday after I visit Bogart.  It will be pretty awesome living with Howard I think.

I never showed him my lyrics to the song I wrote for Emma, but if I live with him, maybe we will have time to work on the music for it together.

Anyway, that was Monday.  Tuesday I had my first day of school and had all my classes in one day.  There’s a level of organization I’m going to need that hasn’t been utilized in long time, but I think it’s going to be a good semester.  Emma is my motivator.  I think she’s not interested in me because I am symbolic of this place she wants to leave.  I’m her past and she doesn’t see me as her future.  She wants to start a new life somewhere and she doesn’t see me fitting into that.  So I need to show her that I’m starting new too, and I have ambitions and the ability to follow through with making them happen.  Plus, I’m a gypsy so I can just pick up and go wherever she wants, whenever she wants.  That’s another thing about moving in with Howard, I’ll be able to save money to maybe make a life with Emma somehow.  Yeah, I’m dreaming, but I have to be ready for anything.

Also on Tuesday, I ended it completely with Iona.  I wish I could just have sexual relationships with girls without love getting involved.  Paula fell in love with me as did Iona.  I wish we could just be friends and have sex and that’s it.  But even if girls start that way, they end up getting emotionally attached and become possessive.  Iona is different though.  She’s not possessive, or she doesn’t act on it.  She’s been good about our not having a committed relationship, and she even understood when I wanted to end anything romantic we have left.  We said we’d stay friends.  I hope we do because she’s a cool person.  I just feel like I definitely want to start new and fresh in many ways.

Wednesday, after my first day of school, I already had a day off.  No classes.  I worked most of the day and it was good to be back at work and see Sharly again.  She also offered me to stay at her place, but I think it might be quieter at Howard’s and it’s completely new for me.

When I was working yesterday, this little girl and her mother came in to look around.  They asked me if we had books on fairies.  So I showed them where the books were.  Later when they came to pay for stuff, that little girl was so freakin’ adorable and polite and sweet, I grabbed one of the mini books we have on a rack by the counter, one about fairies, and I gave it to her.  I said she could have it for free because she’s so polite.  I think she’s about five years old.  She was all happy and then her mother gave me this look like she just fell in love with me and then I noticed she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.  She was thanking me and as they left she said they’d definitely be back.  Later, I took another one of those little fairy books and I went back to see Sharly.  I told her I gave one to a little girl and so I was going to make a slip with the ISBN # and she could take it out of my pay check.  She said to make the slip but don’t worry about the money this time.

When I do things like that, I realize that I like to make people happy.  When I’m going through my own shit and all self absorbed and shit, it’s hard to think of anyone else.  So I think I’d like to just fucking move on from so much of the shit that’s been going on the past couple years and focus on other people for a change.  When I move in with Howard, I’m going to help them out as much as they need and more.

Then maybe, eventually, I can help Bogart when he gets out, not sure when that will be.  But I don’t think I really want to subject Howard to Bogart.  Maybe Bogart can live with my parents.  Ok, that just made me laugh.

All right, today’s theme song is “Instant Karma” by John Lennon, since I dreamed about him the other day, meaning a transitional time in my life, and because this song makes a lot of sense.


previous Grimm 154: Wall Grimm’s List of 20 Curious Events

next Grimm 156: Grimm the Boring Old Guy & Retrospect is Always Too Late

For a chronological list of links to all the journal entries, refer to the Journal Entries Index Page

For posts that aren’t journal entries, feel free to explore the Categories in the left side bar or the other pages above, including the Character Directories which list the posts each character is mentioned in.

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 141 - 155 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 154: Wall Grimm’s List of 20 Curious Events

January 13, 2014

Ok well, tomorrow I start my classes, kind of nervous about that.  I don’t trust myself to follow through.  I’m convinced I’m going to fuck up somehow, but I just have to try and trust myself.   I have all of my classes tomorrow, it’s the biggest school day of the week, but the schedule isn’t so bad since I’m only taking four classes.  I have Applied Statistics from 8-9:15, Abnormal Psych from 9:30-10:45, General Psych from 11-12:15, and Intro to Cognitive Neuroscience from 2-3:15.  I’m not really supposed to be taking Abnormal Psych until I complete General Psych which is a prerequisite, but I waivered in through my advisor.  She also had me register with the Disabilities Center and I’ll give all my professors the notification of my processing issues, and the fact that I just had a recent trauma with the death of Valentina.  Anyway, all my journals are not going to be consumed by my school life, I’m going to vow that to myself now.  Because I know that school will feel all consuming, and I don’t want it to take over this world.  So enough about it.

Yesterday we had services for Valentina, but I don’t want to talk about that.  Today I’m going to Blues Monday, so I’m glad about that.  Mostly I’m glad to be with Gary Oldman (II) again.  Otherwise, it’s just life as usual.  I think I’ll write about some interesting things that have occurred since I’ve come home.  They might not be that interesting essentially, but I’ve only been home for a week, so give me a fucking break, Invisible Journal Reading People.

My name is Wall Grimm and here is a list of 20 interesting things that happened since I’ve come home:


1.  I was going for a walk with Gary Oldman (II) and someone asked me for my autograph.  Who knows why.  I didn’t ask.  Maybe I look like someone famous I don’t know about.  I just gave her the autograph anyway.

2.  I’ve been working regularly on my novel and that’s interesting to me.  If it’s not interesting to you Invisible Journal Reading People, that’s your problem.  Why are invisible people reading my journal anyway?  It’s supposed to be private.

3.  I went to visit Bogart and he was so excited he punched me in the eye.  ‘Nuff said.

4.  I shaved.  That’s really interesting because it’s been a while since I’ve used a real razor, not an electrical one.  My face is so smooth, I can’t stop touching my own face.  And I got a real haircut, so the combination of a hair cut, clean shaven face, and a black eye really does something for the esteem.

5.  Ayla came over last night and gave me a blow job while Pete was out with Sweetheart buying some food.  That’s extremely interesting to me.  It’s been a while.  I think the meds have worn off.

6.  I had a dream about John Lennon.  I dream about him sometimes, usually during transitional periods in my life.  Yeah, it’s weird.

7.  I went running, because I hadn’t worked out much for the past month so my body was sore for lack of exercise.  So I went running, slipped on some ice, fell over the rail of the bike path into the road, a car swerved to avoid hitting me and nearly missed another car.  No collisions and everyone was safe.  But that was nuts.

8.  I went on facebook.  That’s more weird than interesting because I haven’t been on in so long.  There was so much there for me waiting for my activity.  I almost cancelled my account, until I remembered that Emma’s my friend on fb, so I decided to delete all the activity and comments from long ago, and start fresh.  Still inactive but maybe I’ll just fb stalk Emma for a while.

9.  I saw Dave at the park.  When he noticed me, he took off in the other direction.  He’s still terrified of the curse I put on him.

10.  When I was walking down the street one day, I passed a bar.  I mean I literally passed it by without noticing it until I was passed it.  I stopped and thought that was amazing.  I’m always tempted to go in, and they never go without notice.

11.  I was showering and got soap in my eye.  I tried to wipe the soap out with the towel hanging on the curtain rod.  The curtain rod fell and I tried to catch it but I couldn’t see.  I slipped and fell over the side of the tub.  I fell onto the toilet, knocking off the back part of the toilet which smashed on the floor.  I continued to fall and landed on the floor.  Pete opened the door to see what was going on and he smashed the door against my head.

12.  The landlord gave us a new backing for the toilet and fixed the shower curtain rod.

13.  I went to see “Anchorman 2”.

14.  I ate 2 gallons of chocolate ice cream in one sitting.

15.  My thumb hurts for no reason at all.  I think it has anxiety because of all the school assignments it will need to be utilized for.

16.  This week has been extremely cold with below zero wind chill and single digit temps, and it has also reached 60 degrees.

17.  I went back on fb a second time in one week.  But this time it was to jerk off to an image of Emma.

18.  I was at the library and I could see up this girl’s skirt who was up the stairs ahead of me.  It was on one of the 60 degree days, otherwise I’d wonder why she was wearing a skirt.  She was wearing lacy blue panties and she caught me looking.  She moved to the side, held her skirt and continued up the stairs faster.  Oops.  I should have avoided getting caught.

19.  My karma from that was I came home one day to find that my fly was down.  It was a day I had decided to go commando.

20.  I wrote a song for Emma.  Maybe Howard can help me put it to music.

Anyway, I’ve been feeling more like myself, and I’ve just been doing shit and keeping myself busy.  I stay home as little as possible.  I think I need a new apartment.  I don’t like being home much.

My theme song today is “Walking Contradiction” by Green Day because this song makes no sense but at the same time makes a lot of sense.  Kinda like me.


previous Grimm 153: Depressing and Boring Grimm, & a Gary Oldmanism

next Grimm 155: The Blues and The New

For a chronological list of links to all the journal entries, refer to the Journal Entries Index Page

For posts that aren’t journal entries, feel free to explore the Categories in the left side bar or the other pages above, including the Character Directories which list the posts each character is mentioned in.

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 141 - 155 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 153: Depressing and Boring Grimm, & a Gary Oldmanism

January 10, 2014

I can’t bring myself to wear the necklace Sweetheart gave me with Valentina’s ashes in it.  It seems wrong to me.  I feel like I want all of her ashes to be together.  And I don’t want to spread them anywhere, I want them buried at a plot so I can go to her grave.  I wish she hadn’t been cremated.  But that’s all my fault since I escaped all that decision making.  I dealt with my grief in a different way, by not dealing with it at all.  At least Sweetheart was doing what she had to do and took some action in the process, so I won’t say anything to her about it.  I probably will wear the necklace sometime, when I’m ready.  We’re going to have services for her on Sunday.  First we’re going to have a private Shaman/Gypsy/Hippy/Pagan/Vagabond kind of thing.  Then we’re going to a church.  Then we’re going to have a reception.  Being Sicilian, I’m used to having a wake, but she’s been cremated, so it’s weird to not have that.  Unfortunately for me, I need to see the body in a casket in order to accept the death.  If I don’t have that, it’s difficult for me to know the reality of it, and it takes me longer to grieve because a part of me denies the death ever happened.  My parents and Pete are helping me and Sweetheart make the arrangements.  I honestly don’t feel equipped at this time to pull it off, but I’m sucking it up and doing it because I don’t want to be so weak.  I also forgot to cover all the mirrors.  My family covers all the mirrors after a death because the deceased person’s soul can be captured in the mirror when a loved one looks in it.  But that hasn’t happened, I just know these things.

Anyway, onto less depressing things.  Tomorrow I’m going to see Bogart and I’m bringing him a carton of cigarettes.  I’m also going to Blues Monday, which is great because I definitely need that.  Yesterday, I registered for my classes and I bought my books and supplies.  I already completed a lot of my requirements and electives, so I just get to focus mostly on my Psychology major.  I scheduled my classes to avoid Mondays, and I’m only taking 4 classes to start since it’s been a while that I’ve been to school and I don’t expect too much from myself at this time.  The cool thing is, I have Wednesdays off too.  This is my schedule:

Intro to Cognitive Neuroscience – Tues/Thurs 2-3:15

General Psych – Tues/Fri 11-12:15

Abnormal Psych – Tues/Fri 9:30-10:45

Applied Statistics – Tues/Thurs 8-915

That gives me time to work as well, but I don’t know how much yet.  I haven’t been working so I haven’t made money, and I haven’t paid rent.  Sweetheart’s not financially contributing for that matter either.  I got a loan for school, but once I turn 25 in August, I’ll qualify for a grant so I can go for free, which is good.  So it’s just this semester.  I start on the 14th and until February, I’m going to work long days on Wednesdays, and go to work from School on Fridays.  In February I may increase my hours.  I definitely need to give Pete money.  He’s not asking for any, but I should, even to cover for Sweetheart, but I don’t make that much, so we’ll see.

Ok this journal entry is fucking boring.  Life and reality and boring shit.  I went from depressing things to boring things.  That’s me lately.  My name is Wall Grimm and I’m depressing and boring.  And the world is very quiet without Bogart around.

I feel old.  I never felt old before.  But going to the college yesterday to take care of this shit…damn.  A bunch of fucking 18 year olds all over the place and I realize I’m freakin’ six years older than these other students.  wtf.  When did that happen?  I guess I should plan to grow up soon or something.  And for some reason that comment just made me horny.  I’m feeling horny for the first time since Valentina died.  Ok now I’m not horny anymore.  When I had relatives that died, I used to feel weird jerking off after for a while because I thought they could see me.  But it’s hard to go more than a day without jerking off.  I did go without for this month or however long it’s been.  Very strange for me.  I even saw Iona on Wednesday and couldn’t do it.  I didn’t try so it wasn’t like I was impotent or anything, just my libido.  Like I said before, maybe the medication had something to do with it.  But I stopped taking the medication the day I got out of the institution and it takes a while to get out of the system.  Now I’m horny again, just jumping in and out of horniness.  I think I’ll call Iona and go to her place, so when the horniness jumps in, I can jump on Iona.

I think I’ll end with a Gary Oldmanism.

My name is Wall Grimm and here is a Gary Oldmanism:


Gary Oldman said, “What other people think of me is none of my business.”  Or so the internet claims he said it.  I like this quote and I’m going to draw on its powers.  These past couple of years I’ve gotten harder and harder on myself, and I’ve figured people just see me as a loser and irresponsible and unreliable and etc. etc. etc.  Maybe they don’t.  Maybe that’s just how I see myself.  I didn’t always see myself that way, only these past couple of years.  And even if others see me that way, it doesn’t fucking matter.  Fuck them.  Fuck them all.  I know who I am.  I know what I’m capable of.  I’ve just been in a rut.  But I’m coming back.  And I don’t need to prove anything to anyone.  Except maybe for Emma, but that’s a whole different story.

Anyway, it’s none of my business what people think of me because it should have no bearing on how I see myself or how I think or behave.  I am the ruler of me and I don’t need to apologize when my mistakes only affect me.  If I hurt other people, then I should apologize.  But otherwise, I just have to live my life to the best of my abilities, get out of this rut, and be who I am, true to me, without hurting anyone in the process.  And for that matter, it’s none of my business what I think of me either.  Who cares what I think.  I have no say in it.  I can be a real asshole at times.  I have to learn to ignore myself in that sense.

Thanks Gary Oldman for more words to live by.

Signing out,

Wall Grimm

The theme song for this journal entry is “I Wanna Be Your Dog” the Gary Oldman version of Sid Vicious, because I was just talking about Gary Oldman, and I want to be Emma’s dog.


previous Grimm 152: Going Home

next Grimm 154: Wall Grimm’s List of 20 Curious Events

For a chronological list of links to all the journal entries, refer to the Journal Entries Index Page

For posts that aren’t journal entries, feel free to explore the Categories in the left side bar or the other pages above, including the Character Directories which list the posts each character is mentioned in.

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 141 - 155 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 152: Going Home

January 7, 2014

My parents picked me up yesterday.  Bogart was distraught, but he was glad when I said I’d visit him on Saturdays.  He said hopefully his mom won’t visit because he only wants to see me.  But after he released me from his enormous and tight hug that seemed to last forever and prevent me from breathing properly, and after he rubbed the tears off his face and the snot from his nose with his sleeve, he grabbed my face and called me a cunt and a wanker and said he loves me.  Then he slapped my face in an Italian kind of way even though he’s Cockney and told me if I don’t come back he’ll hunt me down when he gets out.  This was followed by an overzealous bout of laughter after which he told me he was joking.  He said he’d understand if I didn’t come back because why would anyone really want to visit him anyway.  Like I said, he’s getting better, but he’s still fucking tragic.  As I was leaving, he pulled me aside and told me that my mom has great tits.  He said it in the only way he knows how to be discrete–just by pulling me aside, but his big mouth still could be heard by anyone within the vicinity, which included my mother.  I was like, shut the fuck up I don’t want to be hearing that shit.  He laughed, called me a bugger and a cunt and said, “goodbye me Constable.”  Then he saluted me and walked away.

Once we were outside the doors of the institution, my parents were commenting on how sad it is that he’s so troubled, since he seems like an otherwise good kid.  My mother added that it’s been a long time since she’s heard anyone say anything like that about her so she was flattered.  I was like, shut up mom.  She said that as a young woman, all anyone, men in particular, care about is beauty, so she had to always prove she had a personality and brains.  But as she gets older, she doesn’t feel the need to prove anything anymore, so now it’s nice to know people still think she has great tits.  Yeah, my mom used the word tits.  I groaned and told her to shut up again.  She and my father thought it was funny.

They took me out to eat at my favorite Italian restaurant and asked if I wanted to do anything else after.  The truth was that I just wanted to go home, but I also didn’t want to go home.  I didn’t want to see Sweetheart.  I wish she wasn’t there.  I wish I had my own place.  Or that she wasn’t there.  Going home to Pete is fine, because he knows how I am and is just a peaceful presence, and he leaves me be when I want him to.  He knows how to talk to me and how to approach me, or just how to be around me so that it’s good to have his company and at the same time have my privacy and solitude.  In the past if I was ashamed about something stupid I did, then I didn’t want to face him.  But I’m not ashamed of anything now.  I just didn’t want Sweetheart there because she is the hugest reminder of Valentina, and I’m not ready to confront that situation.  I’ll handle it, I just need to do it my own way, but she is a reminder that I can’t deny.  With her around, there’s no avoiding the memories and the grief.  Even writing this is difficult.

But my parents took me home and Pete and Sweetheart welcomed me.  Pete took the day off from work so he could be there.  He’s a great friend.  At first it wasn’t so bad.  We didn’t talk about anything in particular.  Instead, Pete had bought season 2 of “American Horror Story” and we watched the entire season.  It’s his sense of humor that it takes place in an institution because he knows I’d think it was funny too and the show’s undeniably fucking awesome.  And I’m in love with Jessica Lang now.  Her acting talents turn me on and she’s a very hot older woman.  Watching the intensity of her character is like witnessing a masterpiece being created before your eyes, like Michelangelo sculpting “Pieta” right in front of you, with every grace and skill that artists can possibly capture, and the final piece is beyond beauty and stirs the soul like nothing else.

Once we finished the final episode, I was kind of ready to just go to sleep, so Pete was putting away the left overs of the Chinese food we had ordered.  I was sitting on the couch and kinda missing Bogart and Kristin and even Sadie.  I even missed the guy who was always trying to grope me that never bothered me again after Bogart attacked him.  He was just another character in that world with his own shit.  The psychology of the mind can also form lamentable works of art that make statements about the human condition.

While Pete was busy, Sweetheart went to her room, which is really my room, and returned with a necklace for me.  She handed it to me and said that the little “vase” on it held some of Valentina’s ashes.  She has one too.  The rest of the ashes are in a small urn which she brought out to show me.  She said we can have some kind of spiritual rites to release her now that I’m out, and we can spread her ashes wherever I want, but that she and I would have the necklaces, so a part of Valentina would always be with us.  I hate to say that it made me sick.  My baby was just ash now, not even ashes all together, but broken apart and meant to be dispersed.  I wasn’t ready to handle that or wrap my head around it.

I looked at the necklace in my hand and Pete walked in and just stopped in his tracks when he saw me there looking at it.  Sweetheart was talking, I don’t even know what she was saying, but Pete hushed her by gesturing with his hand for her to stop speaking.  I put the necklace on the table by the lamp and went outside to have a cigarette.  When I returned, Sweetheart had gone to bed and Pete asked if I was ok.  I said yeah and just laid on the couch and said I was going to sleep.

One of the best things about returning was that Gary Oldman (II) was really excited to see me.  She was meowing and jumping all over me and curling up on my lap and following me everywhere.  I thought she would hate me for abandoning her for so long.  But she was just happy that I was back.  Innocence and unconditional love, just like Valentina.  So I laid on the couch and she was sitting on my head when Pete was assured I was ok and he went to bed.

About a half an hour later, I sat up and held the necklace, looking at it, and I began to cry.  I hadn’t cried since the night she died.  But I cried last night and the pain was immense.  It was too much.  And here I was on the couch, slumming in my own apartment.  I got up and Gary Oldman (II) followed me to Pete’s room.  I opened the door and stood in the doorway.  Pete asked if I was ok and I started crying again.  I asked if I could sleep in his bed.  He said of course and was collecting himself to go sleep on the couch, but I told him to stay, since he has a queen size bed, there’s room.  So I got into bed with him, on my side with my back to him, holding Gary Oldman (II) and the necklace, and I just cried myself to sleep.  Pete was good, he didn’t say or do anything.  He knows me, and knows if I needed to talk I would have asked to talk.  But he just let me cry myself to sleep.  And it felt more painful to cry than to hold it in.  I thought it would be like a release, but it wasn’t, because there was too much to let out.  Crying just made me more aware of how much was there, and how much pain I was in.


previous Grimm 151: Preparing to Leave & Seasons in the Sun

next Grimm 153: Depressing and Boring Grimm, & a Gary Oldmanism

For a chronological list of links to all the journal entries, refer to the Journal Entries Index Page

For posts that aren’t journal entries, feel free to explore the Categories in the left side bar or the other pages above, including the Character Directories which list the posts each character is mentioned in.

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 141 - 155 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 151: Preparing to Leave & Seasons in the Sun

January 5, 2014

I’m leaving the institution tomorrow.  Once I’m out, I’m going to stop taking the medication they’re forcing me to take here.  As I’m thinking about it though, I think it’s helping.  I don’t have the anger or the agitation, and the depression has levelled to the point that I think I can function.  When I first got here the depression was debilitating.  My moods just feel stabilized and I’m kinda mellow.  I think I’d rather attribute the change to just being here and getting things in perspective.  I also kind of think that Bogart had something to do with it.  I mean, I think I’ve helped him, at least a little, but he’s also helped me to realize that I’m not so mentally bad off as I thought.  So I’ll stop with the medication and see what happens.  I don’t like the idea of taking pills on a daily basis.  Or maybe I just like popping pills too much and I’m paranoid it will lead me to bigger and better drugs.  Psychiatric medication is basically pills to make you feel better.  But so is ecstasy or cocaine or opium or whiskey.  The difference is the addiction and the come down.

A part of me doesn’t want to leave because it has become a whole other world for me here.  I feel like I’ve gone through the looking glass or like I’ve slipped through some veil and all I need is a doorway like a wardrobe and I can come and go as I please.  But that’s not the case.  There are mythical creatures here, spiritual beings, demons, monsters, ids, and egos encompassed in a range of psychoses and manifested as a parallel world in a Neil Gaiman novel.  Yeah, this is like Neverwhere, the world beneath the London Underground.  And it’s going to be hard to leave Bogart behind, as if the demons will at last be able to consume him once I’m gone.

Kristin seems kind of sad that I’m going and told me she’s going to draw something for me as a source of protection from the evils out there.  She’s less crazy than she is intense and brilliant.  Sadie still has been asking to see and touch my dick.  I still say no, but now and then I catch Bogart holding his pants open while she looks down inside.  He has this big, proud grin on his face like he’s all pleased with himself.  He’s gratified at being mischievous and also because she says, “ooooh it’s so big.”  I have to tell him that it’s not appropriate and stop him from letting her touch him.  I think once I’m gone, he’ll probably get a blow job out of her.

He never got Kendall Goth Girl.  He kind of freaked her out because he just comes right out with whatever is on his mind.  She preferred me because I never speak, but I’d not engage her in anyway, we never talked at all because I’d walk away.  She told Bogart that she’s a virgin and wants to stay one.  But he gave her a pack of smokes so she would show him her tits while he jerked off.  That happened yesterday though she wouldn’t let him touch them.  I think eventually it will go further.  She doesn’t have anyone visiting and bringing her cigarettes.  Neither does Bogart for that matter.  Only his mother comes, he doesn’t seem to have anyone else, not even any friends.  No one has the patience to see past his manic personality and get to know him.  He said he had friends he’d go to bars with, but based on what he says about them, it seems they only like to see how far he’ll go with the trouble he can cause.  They instigate him for kicks.  Now that he’s here, he’s no fun anymore for them.  When his mother comes, she doesn’t bring him anything, not even cigarettes.  Instead, she just comes and talks about his disorder and treatments and what works what doesn’t and how he’s acting while she’s there.  He hears enough of that from the staff in the institution.  She kind of pisses me off.  Makes me grateful for my own mother.  When I have people coming to see me, they bring me a carton of cigarettes.  I haven’t smoked a pack per day, but I share them with Bogart and give him three packs.  When I come on Saturdays to visit him, I’ll bring him cigarettes.  So basically I supplied the smokes that enabled him to see Goth Girl’s tits.  Maybe he’ll get more if he gives her two packs at a time.  That has nothing to do with me, it’s her own ethics being skewed.  She’s just suicidal, he’s got a significant mental disorder and truthfully has a hard time distinguishing between right and wrong most times.

The electroconvulsive therapy seems to be helping him though.  He’s less manic and his subjects are less sporadic.  I keep thinking that when and if he’s able to get out, maybe he can come stay with me.  But I don’t know if I can control him or if I can trust him to stay out of trouble.  It’s strange to think that there are Bogarts wandering around on the streets freely.  He’s like a combination of a rabid wolf, unpredictable and dangerous; and a lost puppy bouncing around all over the place, jumping on people, and looking for a home.

Regarding my own life, I requested that only Pete come yesterday with no one else.  I needed a debriefing of what to expect when I get home.  He told me that Sweetheart is still at our apartment and for some reason that made me sick.  I don’t have anything against her at all, but I don’t want to face her.  She’s a grating reminder, and I also don’t feel up to dealing with her own grief, since it pertains to mine.  I’ll do my best, but it will be really difficult.  When I think of that, I don’t feel ready to be out.  I’m afraid I’ll slip back into the darkness that brought me here.  But I have to try because I have a life to live.  Here has become an escape from that.  I have to man-up, go out there and get my college degree and live and move on and face shit.  Going to school will help to distract me.  I miss Gary Oldman (II) and she needs me.  I need to make things work out so people stop concerning themselves with me.  I need to be the go-to guy again.

Pete also told me that Valentina was cremated and no services were performed for her yet.  I actually went to the bathroom and puked when he told me that.  They were waiting for me, which is a good thing essentially, but I don’t know how I will be able to handle it.  Like I said before, it’s harder to deal with shit when everyone around you is looking at you through compassionate eyes expecting you to fall apart.  I hate that, though I appreciate it.  But I can’t believe she was cremated.  Of course I never thought about it, what they would do, about services, what would or wouldn’t occur while I was here.  I couldn’t think about it even if I wanted to.  I guess part of Sweetheart’s decision to cremate her was spiritual, but it also was on behalf of me, to hold off on the services until I would be ready to say goodbye.  I will never be ready to say goodbye, but we need to let her spirit go.  I just wish I could hold her one more time.  I wish I could hold her.

The theme song for this journal entry is “Seasons in the Sun” by Terry Jacks, because it’s probably one of the saddest songs ever written, and I’m afraid to go back and face everything and feel this way again.


previous Grimm 150: Stupiditum Disorder Impulsive Type & Sunshine in a Bag

next Grimm 152: Going Home

*note from Sage: the Terry Jacks version is below, however sometimes the video doesn’t work because YouTube says I’m in the wrong country to play it, hmmmm.  So I’ve also included the Nirvana version here:

For a chronological list of links to all the journal entries, refer to the Journal Entries Index Page

For posts that aren’t journal entries, feel free to explore the Categories in the left side bar or the other pages above, including the Character Directories which list the posts each character is mentioned in.

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 141 - 155 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 150: Stupiditum Disorder Impulsive Type & Sunshine in a Bag

January 3, 2014

I’m going to leave the Institution on Monday.  It will be roughly a month since I’ve been here, but I’m not sure if I’m ready to face the world.  However, I had enrolled in school and Pete told me that classes start on 14th, but I haven’t even registered for my classes yet.  Going to school could be a good thing for me, keep me busy.  I can’t change my hours at work until I know what my schedule is.  Fortunately, I already almost have 2 years of college under my belt.  I’ve gotten all the requirements out of the way for the most part.  Funny thing though, I’m majoring in psychology, and I’ve been in a psych ward more than once.  I think that will help me do well at the job though, down the road.  It will allow me to incorporate humanity into my practice.  I also won’t fall for all the bullshit some clients tell they’re therapists.  I heard that you can’t be a good psychologist or someone in that field unless you’ve been on the other side.  They usually recommend counseling as a simple way of getting the feel for what a patient experiences.  Well I’ve been pretty far on the other side, so maybe I’ll be a fantastic fucking counselor or whatever I want to be.

When I get out, I’ll have about a week to get organized, register, buy the books, and alter my work schedule, then classes start.  I want to be sure I still have my Blues Mondays, and I want to be able to come back on Saturdays and visit Bogart.  After getting out, I’ll be dealing with those technicalities, and then I’ll commence school, so I’ll be too busy to have to face anyone.  I don’t want compassionate looks or scrutinizing glances.  I don’t want a consoling hand on my shoulder or arm or back.  I don’t want people to look at each other when I walk out of the room.  I mean, it’s nice that people care, but that stuff just embarrasses me and makes me feel pathetic.  Though, I guess if they didn’t do that shit, then I’d wonder if anyone cared at all and just feel bad for myself.  So I’m thinking now that people obviously caring is better, even if it makes me feel like a loser that they have to experience that kind of sympathy for me.

I haven’t been reading too much either, which is disappointing, but the fact that I’m working on a novel makes up for that.  And I’ll be doing plenty of reading in school.  What’s it going to take me, a year to complete Steppenwolf?  That is pathetic.  I blame the drugs and the Gangsta.  My therapist here told me I could register with the department at the college that helps people with disabilities.  I can take Gary Oldman (II) for classes, I can ask for more time on assignments I think…I’m not sure what I’d need, if anything, but she said that if I find I’m having trouble, we can figure out what accommodations will work best.  My disabilities would be: mild brain damage from the Gangsta that affects processing, substance abuse is a disorder which counts as a disability, depression because of Valentina, and PTSD, which still plagues me, oh and stupidity.

I think stupidity should be a disorder.  And I’m not talking IQ or being cognitively impaired, I’m talking about being just plain stupid, as in doing stupid shit, saying stupid shit, and being stupid to the point that you fuck up in life on a daily basis.  I would call the disorder, Stupiditum Disorder.  The more extreme cases would involve people who do the stupid shit without knowing that it’s stupid, the clueless people.  The first disorder is people like me who do it, but know it’s stupid, or recognize immediately when they’ve put their feet in their mouths, or at least learn from their mistakes.  The extreme group doesn’t recognize their own stupidity and doesn’t learn, and often they blame others and circumstance when fuck ups happen.  This group would be diagnosed with Stupiditum Oblivium Disorder or a milder version is Cluelessness Syndrome.  My case is more the Stupiditum Disorder, but when there’s the impulsive element, when otherwise you would think first and not say or do the stupid shit, but you lack or need to strengthen the impulse control, then it’s referred to as Stupiditum Disorder Impulsive Type.  That’s me.  It used to be reckless, but since the Gangsta, I have executive functioning problems and impulse control.  The mother fucker gave me ADHD.  Nah, I don’t really have that, but those are pretty much the symptoms.  Any behavior that prevents a kid from sitting still in the classroom, shutting up, and being a drone, is a symptom of ADHD.  If you’re not a programmable robot, you get diagnosed.  And you get diagnosed by teachers who have no degree that qualifies them to diagnose the common cold let alone a disorder listed in the DSM-IV.

My name is Wall Grimm and I went off on a tangent and engaged in a rant.  That means I have Tangentis Syndrome with Ranting Features.  Or ADHD (a damned hard dick) or KMFAS (kiss my fucking ass syndrome).  Yeah, majoring in psychology….good times will be had by all.

The theme song for this journal entry is Gorillaz “Clint Eastwood” because when I walk out of here, I’m walking out with this attitude while I’m wearing my Stepping Wolves and my Eastwood.  That’s how it’s gonna be.
“I aint happy, I’m feelin glad
I got sunshine, in a bag
I’m useless, but not for long
The future is coming on
I ain’t happy, I’m feeling glad
I got sunshine, in a bag
I’m useless, but not for long
The future is coming on
It’s coming on
It’s coming on
It’s coming on
It’s coming on”

–Gorillaz “Clint Eastwood”


previous Grimm 149:  De-Christmasifying, Missing Stuff, Reflections, & Grimm and Bogart Basket Cases

next Grimm 151: Preparing to Leave & Seasons in the Sun

For a chronological list of links to all the journal entries, refer to the Journal Entries Index Page

For posts that aren’t journal entries, feel free to explore the Categories in the left side bar or the other pages above, including the Character Directories which list the posts each character is mentioned in.

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 141 - 155 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 27 Comments

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