Monthly Archives: March 2014

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 174: Thoughts of Kathy

March 31, 2014


I’ve been thinking of Kathy a lot lately and I know I haven’t written about her in a while.  I guess since I had been dreaming about her and experiencing the “visitations” by her and the Shadowy guy way back when, once that all stopped, I didn’t even want to think or write about either of them anymore.  I was kind of reluctant because I didn’t want to stir any of that up again.  I believe I learned the cause of the Shadowy guy, as if he was some kind of aspect of myself, or maybe even he was me co-existing on another plane of existence.  The dimension where I made even worse choices.  Or perhaps he was intended to guide me back on a path to get me where I am now.  Maybe I strayed from that at the time.  Maybe Kathy was haunting me, unintentionally directing me elsewhere because she was a restless spirit, and he was me on the right path trying to get our paths to merge, so I wouldn’t lose that part of me or that me which I was meant to remain.

So now I’m wondering if Kathy stopped coming around in my dreams and visions because I willed her away and because she realized it was a genuine haunting at a certain point.  Maybe she’s just no longer restless.  I think I want to believe that she’s finally at peace.  Maybe she was trying to warn me or protect me.  I don’t know when I actually started dreaming of her.  Maybe it was after my own suicide attempt.  Maybe she was the one who saved me with the hallucinations that brought me out of the hotel room so that the cops could find me.  It’s all too unclear.  And it essentially doesn’t even matter anymore.  I’m in a good place now.  But I’ve been thinking of her, ready to mourn a little again.  I was diverted from my grief by the hauntings.  And lately I’ve wondered if she is with Valentina.

Prior to Kathy’s suicide, there were many times that I also thought about suicide.  I think we all do, some of us more than others.  I thought of it but in retrospect I never wanted to really kill myself because I thought of my family mostly, and my friends.  I figured if I did that, then they would suffer for the rest of their lives in some way.  I didn’t want that for them.  So basically that was the only reason why I never did.  I didn’t kill myself to spare other people from the pain of it.  When Kathy committed suicide, it had validated all those ideas.  I decided that I never would do that, because I was right, when you kill yourself, you leave all your pain plus some behind for others to suffer.

So when I did try to kill myself it was the strangest thing.  I blew my own mind.  It was like I wasn’t even myself.  I was robotic almost, somehow I was completely missing in the process.  After that when I was in an institution, I knew it was a mistake.  I knew I was meant to live.  It didn’t even matter why.  I knew I never would try that ever again.  I was completely confident about that.  Then Valentina died, and I was sure I had no control over myself.  I was afraid the robotic self would take over again.  I was feeling both suicidal and homicidal and I didn’t feel safe with myself.  But I was in control enough to put myself back in an institution to prevent that from happening.

During the time after Kathy died, I kind of avoided our friends a little.  I didn’t want to participate in a group grieving process.  I guess in that way I was selfish because I withdrew into myself and separated from them.  I have a way about things, which often involves running away altogether.  But it’s not so much escaping as it is avoiding other people.  I need the solitude.  It’s a way to survive.  Kind of like a vision quest I guess.  Anyway, during that time, I focused more on Emma.  Not purposefully, but she just was there for me.  She didn’t know Kathy as well.  They knew each other, were more like acquaintances, just friendly in passing with no animosity.  Emma never hung out with my group of friends.

So Emma went to the wake and the funeral and she sat by me and didn’t say anything, she was just there.  It was perfect.  Someone that I could escape to, and have solitude around, without disrupting my own personal process.  She didn’t expect me to talk about it or openly mourn or anything.  She was just a presence in the most perfect way I could have needed a presence.  When Valentina died and I put myself away, then I came home to find out that Sweetheart had her cremated and was holding off on services until I returned, I wanted Emma around then too.  She came to the services, but I was with Sweetheart.  It was different because Sweetheart and I were Valentina’s parents.  So we were the people that everyone approached to offer condolences to.  It was me, Sweetheart, my parents and my sister, and I wanted Pete with us, because he deserved to be.  He was a significant part of Valentina’s life.  He lived with us.  He was like an uncle and saw her more than anyone else, besides me and Sweetheart.  I never interacted with Emma at the services, except for when she gave me a hug.  But she didn’t talk to me, because she knows me, I had nothing to say.  The more I feel inside, the less I have to say.  Her parents had come too.  Yet, honestly I only think of their presence there now.  Emma’s presence and her parents’ attendance.  I didn’t acknowledge it then.  Everyone was like a ghost there to me.  Just hazy images drifting around in a world I was no longer part of.  I was feeling better after the institution, but facing up to the closure through the services was a challenge and I distanced myself in the process.  As if I disassociated and stepped out of my body, and my spirit stood back waiting to return to me again.

Anyway, I don’t know why I’m writing about this or where I’m even going with this subject except that I’ve been thinking of Kathy again lately.  I never really stopped thinking about her.

Theme song, “All Apologies” by Nirvana.  Just because.



previous Grimm 173: “Sharknado” & What Did Great, Great, Great Grandpa Grimm Do?

next Grimm 175: The Smooth Agent Provocateur

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.


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“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 173: “Sharknado” & What Did Great, Great, Great Grandpa Grimm Do?

March 28, 2014

Something I recently discovered about Howard:  he likes stupid horror movies and B-flicks like I do.  That’s awesome.

Wednesday night after I got home from work, we watched “Sharknado”.




That’s my review of the film.  To translate, I highly recommend this film to anyone who has the capability of watching a film that has no basis whatsoever in any kind of science that is common knowledge or easily accessible.  Yes it’s fiction, but good fiction attempts to make scientific sense with some kind of valid foundation or logical explanation.  I won’t give away any spoilers because everyone should see this film.  Yes, that’s what I said:  everyone should see this film.  Especially if they can set aside their need for sense and just want to have a good laugh.  Also, you have to get over the decent subplot requirement and interest in likeable characters.  Forget quality special effects.  The gore level is minimal.  However, I’m pretty sure that I saw a topless surfer girl subtly placed at the beginning of the movie.

So why see this film?  Because it’s hysterical which makes it enjoyable.  Yet, it is definitely not a comedy.  It’s an action packed B-flick horror/disaster movie.  And I actually thought, “awwww shit” when a couple of the people died.  But I’d imagine it’s less fun when you watch it alone.  Get someone to watch it with you, and laugh, and MST3K all over it.  Sometimes the world is too serious.  We need reminders in life that there are people and things much stupider than ourselves.  There are things that don’t need to make sense.  Things so unrealistic and asinine, we are taken out of reality and given the opportunity to laugh.  Because there are no expectations, and therefore, we can’t be disappointed.

There is liberation to be found in watching “Sharknado”.  Liberation and peace of mind.  And laughter.

Ah, the Zen and mindlessness of watching stupid movies…

So anyway, that’s cool that Howard likes dumb shit like that.  I never expected it of him.  He also seems to stay up kinda late after Daisy goes to bed.  Maybe I’ll hang out with him more often in the evenings.

Ok, onto other subject matter.

I used to have this list of priorities.  I don’t remember everything that was on it, but I think I have a good idea.  Some things I’ve accomplished, others…nope.  But here goes.

I’ve almost finished Steppenwolf finally and go figure, next I’m moving on to Ulysses.  Yep, I’m going to conquer James Joyce.  I tried to read it before and felt the stream of thought aspect of it was kinda pretentious.  Though I like Joyce and he’s definitely an incredible writer, far better than me.  Ulysses just didn’t titillate me.  I don’t like the word titillate, makes me feel perverted.  It’s just the perfect word to use in the context.  Anyway, I’m in a different mindset now, so I want to give it another try.  It’s not one of the greatest novels ever written for no reason.  It took me about a year (estimating) to read Hesse, so this should take me about five years.  Nah, I just have to make it a routine and retrain my brain.

I haven’t bothered cutting down much on smoking these days since school started.  Oh yeah, school and death are good excuses why I got diverted from Steppenwolf, btw.  I have been exercising a lot though, in my basement apartment in Howard’s house, or when the weather was suitable, going for a run.

I tried AA and hated it, but I’ve remained abstained.  Remaining abstained while retraining my brain.  Nice.

That’s a good enough list now, I guess.  I know the old one mentioned Paula, but that’s over.  Then there’s getting a life, which I’m working on.  Being more responsible for Sharly, yep doing that.  Referring to Gary Oldman (II) as Gary Oldman (II) in my journal so as not to confuse myself.  I’m not that easily confused but the future me might have dementia or something.  I expect to maybe one day reread all this shit I’m writing.  Or burn it.  I wonder if I will keep a journal for the rest of my life.  That would be pretty cool.  But it can’t be a legacy or anything.  It’s not like I want my descendants to know how often their great-great-great grandpa jerked off.

I don’t know why I include that information.  Masturbation is also mindlessness and Zen.  And it feels fucking good.  But that’s obvious, so why do I include it here?   Hmmm, good question Grimm.  Thank you, Grimm.  My pleasure, Grimm.  Literally, my pleasure.

My name is Wall Grimm and I’m rambling.  And these days I’ve been rambling in my Stepping Wolves again, since there’s no ice on the road.  All the snow is melting, though it’s still cold.  It’s great to see the grass even though it’s crappy looking.  Some days it’s too windy to wear my Eastwood though, but I’ll carry it around and put it on when the wind dies down.  Gary Oldman (II) doesn’t complain so much when I take her outside.  She even walks around on the ground.  She did not like the Winter at all.  I bought her a little leather jacket that was meant for those little rat dogs, but she hated it.  She ran around the apartment crashing into stuff hoping it would fall off.  I couldn’t catch her right away.  I felt bad, but at the same time I struggled not to laugh.  I didn’t want to embarrass her or piss her off.  Cats hate when they lose a little dignity.  They’re so pompous sometimes.  But that’s why they’re cool.  Gary Oldman (II) held a grudge for a while after that incident.

Dogs are cool because they often have no dignity.  I mean how dignifying is it to shove your nose into someone’s crotch or ass.  That’s not a classy thing to do.  Though I wouldn’t mind doing that to some women.  Imagine that?  “Nice to meet you” and instead of shaking hands, you bend over and smell each other’s crotch.  That’s not funny.  It’s a cliché joke.  I’m sorry.

Those little rat dogs annoy the fuck out of me.  But at the same time they’re so fucking adorable.  Maybe that’s how girls feel about me.  I include the adorable part because I’ve heard that about myself, but also, I wouldn’t get laid so much if there wasn’t something about me that they like.  So it’s not vanity that makes me say that.  I guess I’m annoying as shit but adorable enough to fuck.  That’s me.  Not my opinion of myself, but it’s what I conclude based upon deduction.

And….I apparently have nothing important to say today.  Let me summarize:

Watch “Sharknado” because it’s inane.

I am going to school and endeavoring to read complicated literature even though I’m dense.

I make lists that are often moronic.

I put a leather jacket on a cat, which was idiotic.

I write about jerking off and that’s cretinous.

Rat dogs are nonsensical.

I called myself adorable and that makes me sophomoric.

inane, dense, moronic, idiotic, cretinous, nonsensical, sophomoric = stupid.

I conclude that I’m officially stupefied.

But don’t get me wrong.  I like myself, sometimes, a little more each day.  More proof of imbecility?  I don’t think so.

My theme song for today is, of course, “(The Ballad of) Sharknado” by Quint.  I love this fucking song.  It has a kind of Ramones sound, fucking awesome.



previous Grimm 172: Scat, Fork, Douchebag, & Dada

next Grimm 174: Thoughts of Kathy

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.


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“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 172: Scat, Fork, Douchebag, & Dada

March 25, 2014

Today I’ll be jumping from subject to subject, so be alert, stay with me Invisible Journal Reading People…

I got a text from Emma a few days after her birthday saying that she’s sorry about what happened because she doesn’t want to lead me on.   I texted back, “np” even though that is kind of a problem for me.  It means she regrets what we did because it didn’t mean anything to her.  She says she was caught up in the moment.  Yeah, np, that happens.  I thought maybe I should apologize as well, but I decided not to, because I was kinda hurt by that, but whatever.  I’ll get over it, keep it peaceful, no resentments, stay friends, and move on.  Because if I leave it awkward, then she won’t want to hang with me, and since we’ve just started to talk more and see each other more, I don’t want to ruin that.  I still won’t give up, but it’s got to be smooth, not forced, and at her pace as well.

Blues Monday was yesterday.  Mean Joe scatted.  No, I don’t mean he shit himself or anything.  He got up and sang and scat.  It’s pretty cool, but what I want to know is, how do people know what to say next when they scat?  Is it written out like lyrics?  scoobeedoo batbadapa dopbedoo whatthefuckanotherscoobeedoo bowwowyeaahhh

mhm scoobeedoo bowwow is pretty much the kind of thing they say.  Or like Marilyn Monroe’s version of scat, dobedo beboopydoo bedopoopoopedoo ooh

I kind of don’t like those words coming out of my face so I can never see myself scatting, unless I was to do it in my mock Louis Armstrong or then there’s Louis Prima shoobedo shoobedoshoobedoo

But I don’t know…

Wall Grimm ponders…

Yeah so Saturday.

Saturday before I visited Bogart, I went out to breakfast with Pete, Morgan, and Danika.  Sweetheart didn’t want to come.  I was reminded of a personal lesson that morning:


I should have remembered that, but every now and then it slips my mind.

I said to Morgan, “you have some clumps on your eyelashes” or something like that.

She was like, “it’s clumpy mascara, it’s supposed to be that way.”

Danika said, “yeah it’s fashionable, men don’t know anything.”

Well maybe I don’t know anything about fashion, but I know what looks good, I think that says something.  Of course I didn’t say that or I’d have gotten a fork in my forehead I’m sure of it.

I mean, it didn’t look bad, it just looked…ummm…clumpy.

I did say, “I know plenty there missy, and I didn’t say it looks bad, I just thought…”  Then I didn’t know what to say without putting my foot in my mouth.  But I saved myself by saying “missy” because that amuses these two particular girls for some reason.  I reserve it for times when I’m getting into trouble, and it usually works to divert their attention from the situation at hand.  And of course the situation has to be trivial.

And Pete chimes in that he likes the mascara.  Pete, being gay, can do no wrong with these girls.  But I’m just a ‘typical guy’ and guys ‘know nothing’.  Why is that not sexist?  What if I said to the girls, “typical women, don’t know anything”?  Yep, then I’d have not only a fork in my forehead, but I’d also have a display of cutlery sticking out of my balls.  Then they’d call it art, Dada or something, and tell me I’m just a typical Neanderthal who doesn’t appreciate art.

Ah, women make life interesting that’s for sure.

The point is, it’s good to phrase things properly to guard against any possibility of misinterpretation.  Or castration.

Also on Saturday, I got a call from Dave.  He was desperate and needed me to go over there, he was freaking out and I’m the only one he trusts.  I believed him, so I met him at Dunkin Donuts because I didn’t want to be on his turf.  He said that this whole curse thing has been causing him a lot of anxiety.  Fucking pussy.  So now he’s on this new medication, and after a week he finally read the information for the prescription and the side effects are causing him further anxiety.

He says, “does my face look ok to you?”


“Look at my face?  Does it look real?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Then he showed me the prescription insert.  He’s taking Buspirone and one of the side effects is “mask-like facial expression”.  I laughed aloud, which is rare, but it’s good to laugh aloud at Dave.

I said, “so you’re asking if your face is mask-like?”

“Yeah, am I moving it?”

Then he starts making all these strange movements with his face.  So I told him, “no, you’re not moving it, why, what are you trying to do?”

He said he was trying to be sure it wasn’t stiff and incapable of making expression.

I told him to just do that as much as he can to be sure he doesn’t lose that ability.  I couldn’t help myself.

Then he asked me if he’d be able to get some kind of anti-mojo to protect him from my curse.  I said no, but he said he would look into it anyway.  I said what does he plan on doing that he needs an anti-mojo for.  He said, “I don’t know, break your fingers?”

“You’re asking me?”

“Yeah, break your fingers and bash your fucking face in.”


Then he paused…”I don’t even know anymore…I forgot.”

“Are you that desperate to have me as a consumer?”

“We were friends, Grimm.  You fucked me over.”

“How did I do that?”

“That’s what you did.  You broke up my shit and fucked me up.”

“And you didn’t deserve that?”

“You did something else too, I think I owed Tony money because of it.”

“You’re a douchebag.”

“Fuck you.”

“You’re a douchebag.”

“Fuck you.”

“Your face doesn’t move when you say that.  Are you trying to express anger?”

“Oh man, this is fucking bullshit.  I’m out.”  And he left.

I went home, popped some valerian and drowned myself in chamomile tea.  Not really, but those are my drugs of choice as of late.  I did however visit Ayla and get a blow job.  And I’m pretty sure I was making a lot of facial expressions throughout the process.

My theme song is by Dada, because I mentioned Dada and it made me think of Dada.  I also mentioned chamomile and it made me think of Dada.  But my theme song isn’t “The Ballad of Earl Grey and Chamomile” it’s “Dizz Knee Land”.  By Dada.


previous Grimm 171: Emma’s Birthday part II & the Premature Boom

next Grimm 173: “Sharknado” & What Did Great, Great, Great Grandpa Grimm Do?

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 171-185 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 171: Emma’s Birthday part II & the Premature Boom

March 22, 2014

Ok, back to describing how Emma’s birthday ended.

Emma and I helped her parents clean up.  After, the four of us talked for about an hour, but as Emma and I branched off into our own conversation, her parents got ready and went to bed.

We talked for a while, mostly about old times, about some funny things that happened.  Eventually she asked me about the present I had for her which I left in the car.  I said I’d go out for a smoke, get the present and come back in.  I was reflecting on the entire evening, assessing myself, which it’s not typical of me, except around Emma these days.  I couldn’t think of anything I said or did that made me cringe or want to leave.  That was good.  Then I determined that, not only did I not make a fool of myself or come off like sniveling whining pining idiot, but I was also pretty cool.  Yeah, I was cool.  I felt good about the level of coolness I projected.  With the confidence, stature, and stride of a lion, I walked across the deck to go to my car.  Then I fell down the deck stairs.  I literally tripped over my own feet, flew in the air, rolled down the stairs, and landed on my face.  As I landed Emma was at the door.  “I’m ok” said I, full of shit, as I inspected my position to be sure my leg wasn’t bent up and twisted beneath itself.

“Are you sure?”  She laughed.  “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh, are you ok?”

“Yep.  I’ll be in, in a minute.”

I collected the pieces of my body and the fragments of my pride and got the present from the car.

We sat on the couch as she held it.  She said, “It’s so big.”

“Thank you.”  I responded smugly, beyond my control, because I’m often driven by innuendo.

She laughed again, “Grimm.”  That’s all she said then.

She opened the gift and seemed to be almost brought to tears.  “Our picnic basket!”

When we hung out through high school, she loved to go on picnics.  My mom had an authentic looking picnic basket which she gave us to use.  Emma’s kind of an old fashioned romantic.  I can see her living in the Victorian age, kind of like Elizabeth in Pride and Prejudice.  Very independent, unique from all the other women of the time, smart and self educated from reading lots of books, willing to get some color in her face from walking outside.  I read the book in an English Literature class when I was enrolled in college the first time and the character reminded me of Emma.  I think Jane Austen wrote Emma too, but I never read that one.  Jane Austen kind of described what society imposed upon women as Dickens described the same about urchins and the poor.

Anyway, she opened the basket and inside I included a few things.  I had to explain them.  I said the picnic basket was for outside dining.  There were a couple candles and candle holders for inside dining, and a bottle of her favorite perfume, “Tabu” for dinner at a restaurant.  She loved the gift and said it was sweet and thoughtful.  But then she said, “no card?”  I told her there was no way I could fit everything I wanted to say and everything she deserved to hear within the confines of a gift card.  And I also couldn’t find the right card to express everything on its own in only a few words.

She said, “so you were at the store looking through all the cards to find the right one?”


“That’s sweet.”

She kept telling me how sweet I am.  So sweet, I got a little harder each time she said it.  That’s how sweet I am.

We sat quietly as she looked at the basket and I said, “well, I should go.”

“No, don’t go.”


She kissed me.  It was quick, but enough to get me going.  I kissed her back and didn’t stop.  We were kissing, and I lost the control I wanted to maintain.  I leaned over her and began rubbing my hands all over her body.  She put her hands up the back of my shirt.  I began to take off her shirt and she responded by taking off mine.  I put my face between her breasts and started kissing them.  With one hand I undid her pants and put my hand in her panties.  I propped up a little on my knees, we were on the couch, and I took her hand and put it on my dick over my pants, rubbing her hand there.  I let go when she was doing it on her own.  Her bra came off.  I was sucking her breasts and began to finger her.  And she was enjoying it, I watched her face whenever I could.  I was so turned on, I couldn’t believe this was happening.  She undid my pants, pushed the front of my underwear down and began to rub my dick that way.  It was too much for me.  This was Emma.  I freakin’ came right then and there.  All over both of us.  That kind of thing never happens to me.  She said “aw Grimm” like she felt bad for me, so I just kept fingering her, determined to make her cum too.  I tried to go down on her, but she didn’t let me.  So I was fingering her and it seemed she was about to orgasm when her father appeared.

We stopped, scrambled to cover ourselves, but he didn’t come in the room, he just swaggered by in his underwear towards the bathroom.  He urinated with the door open and it was really loud.  Emma and I tried not to laugh but the amusement of it kind of eased the situation.  After he silently moseyed off to bed, she got a hand towel so we could clean ourselves up from my cum and we got dressed.

I told her I was sorry, I didn’t want that to happen.  She laughed and said, “no guy does.”  And I know she was talking about how I came so quickly.  “Wise ass,” I said.

Then she said, “you know Grimm, I’m a virgin.”

I was dumfounded, but I thought about it.  She never really had any kind of long term boyfriend, only dates here and there.  Anyone she referred to as a boyfriend wasn’t around for more than a month or two.  They all were obsessed with her, and somehow stayed friends with her, like me, just to have her in some way.

I got the balls to ask, “if your dad didn’t get up, would we have had sex?”

“I don’t know…probably not.  Although, I guess my first time should be with someone who loves me as much as you do.”

I told her that’s a good idea.  And she should wait until she’s married at this point.  She just turned twenty-five, that’s rare.  Anyway, we didn’t talk much more after I got myself together to leave.  She said, “thanks for coming” and I responded with, “I couldn’t help it.”

She laughed, shoved me, and shook her head, “Grimm.”

As I was out the door, she gave me a kiss on the cheek.  I said, “thanks for inviting me” and I left.

Now I’m confused.  Too confused to even write why I’m confused.  All I can say is that I memorized the smell of her on my finger, and since that night, Emma has been on my mind a lot, particularly when I’m jerking off.

The only thing I can think is that she’s scared.  She doesn’t want the first time to be with someone that she feels the pressure of being “good” with, or however girls view that.  But she wants to be loved and respected the first time, so not just anyone could do the job.  She’s going off to Spain, and I think she wants experience before she gets there, maybe?  Using me, sounds like.  But in a nice way, I guess.  The accuracy of my psychicisms is difficult to ascertain when I’m trying to figure out Emma, since I’m too closely involved in what I’m trying to psychify, to get an objective perception.

All right, theme song, Flight of the Conchords again.  I like the line in this song, “she’s so hot she’s making me sexist.  bitch.”  It’s called, “Boom”.


previous Grimm 170: Emma’s Birthday & Striving Grimm el Chico Tranquilo

next Grimm 172: Scat, Fork, Douchebag, & Dada

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 171-185 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

The Birthday Tale of Gary Oldman’s Amazing Journey

Today is Gary Oldman’s birthday.  He turns 56 today.  Happy Birthday Lord Gary Oldman.

My name is Wall Grimm and I wrote a birthday tale for Gary Oldman, which is a congruent yet oxymoronically disconnected conundrum describing why I dubbed him a Lord, even though the tale addresses that in no way whatsoever.


Once upon a time there was a man named Gary who was kind of a punk, but he decided to take up the piano in order to clean himself up.  However, his own playing made him start to go deaf, so he left the concert hall to go to a magical school.  But he got in trouble and was sent to prison.  He eventually escaped from Alcatraz.  Make that Azkaban.  Disguising himself as a little person, he became involved in the world of street art and the avant garde, but David Bowie was too bizarre, even though later they would make a video together.  His next career choice was that of a playwright, but Alfred Molina was insane.  Molina had recently hunted down imposters on a cruise after his performance of Hamlet.  This impressed Gary, so he went back to Hogwarts to find David Tennant so he could get a time machine.  Since Gary was temporarily a police commissioner, he was able to use the police box, then he went back in time to hang out in Denmark with Pumpkin, who was yet to find his Honey Bunny.

Gary and Pumpkin were set to be hung so Gary moved on in search of another time machine.  The Player only had a boat, but he needed a bigger one, so he was able to set him up with a flying saucer which only brought him back to his punk days with Nancy.  Gary hadn’t realized at the time that Nancy was having an affair with Louis De Palma who happened to be the twin brother of the Terminator.  Gary wanted nothing to do with the Terminator even though he was also capable of time travel.  Instead he approached Reverend Jim who gave him a ride in his Delorean.  This was a better option than anything else McMurphy could provide, despite his offer to put Gary up in a hotel.  Jim took him once again to Hogwarts where Cedric Diggory turned him into a vampire.  He remained there briefly while becoming comrades with a werewolf who would in the near future get naked, hang out on an island of mutants with the Godfather, have sex with Leonardo DiCaprio, and meet Brad Pitt in Tibet.  This was before Brad met his wife who was in the psych ward with Mina Murray, who would eventual become Gary’s lover.  Mina was kind of a strange girl who hung out with ghosts and at one time was in love with a barber who was good at pet grooming, hedge trimming, and making meat pies.

Before leaving Hogwarts, he befriended Gilderoy Lockhart who knew this guy named Marcellus.  Marcellus was a cross dresser who hung out with a show girl.  The show girl was wooed by Van Helsing.  This was not the same Van Helsing Gary knew during his excellent adventure with Neo.  Yet Gary recognized Monica Bellucci from both worlds.  Gary was more familiar with Hannibal Lecter, who would eventually convince Gary to cut his face off.  Discouraged and disfigured, Gary assassinated John F. Kennedy and condemned Jesus Christ to crucifixion.

Gary was so remorseful, he got plastic surgery and dreadlocks.  He met Christian Slater who also knew Mina and Brad Pitt.  Involvement with them became tedious, so soon after, Gary decided to opt out of that existence in order to establish a more positive lifestyle.  But then he began stalking and trying to kill a 12 year old girl, who would one day be the mother of Princess Leia after a stint as a psychotic ballerina.  Gary regretted these actions, became small again and called himself Tim.  Fortunately an animated Jim Carey was able to save his life by not being such a greedy curmudgeon.

Frustrated with his failed attempts at soul searching, Gary, in the end, chose to live out the rest of his life as Elvis…

…until one day, he slipped through a veil and the world no longer had anything to do with him.  Along his journey to find his own realm, he momentarily found it when he ended up in a city with a robotic cop.  There, Gary approached a Bad Mother Fucker, who also knew Pumpkin.  BMF introduced Gary to Obi, and this is where he once again was diverted from his own path.  All thanks to Obi.  Obi was an effeminate rocker drug addict in a kilt on a motorcycle.  Obi took Gary to an Island where he met a girl with a pearl earring who liked zoo animals and Bill Murray, no relation to Mina.  On the Island, Gary also met a chameleon who abducted a car salesman’s wife, only to later be cremated by the Dude.  The most significant person he met was a hitchhiker who was part of the fellowship.  He introduced Gary to an illiterate taxi driver who was really good at driving in the opposite direction on a European freeway.  This ex-mafia don turned boxer brought him to Vietnam to meet a prisoner of war who later became a high end underground lord held captive by Eliot.  Eliot had a sister who’s real father went into a psychological chamber and turned into a monkey.  This caused nostalgia for Gary, remembering his days when he socialized with talking apes.  Gary’s memories transported him back through to his personal realm.

The monkey man referred to Gary as Doctor while they travelled around in space together for quite some time, getting lost on occasion.  Gary was glad to have returned to his own veil of existence, but he became weary of travel.  So he decided to return to his own time, quit drinking, and settle down as a family man.  And he lived happily every after.


Oh, and he likes bow ties.  Bow ties are cool.

The End

Happy Birthday Gary Oldman!



Categories: RANDOM GRIMM-NESS | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 170: Emma’s Birthday & Striving Grimm el Chico Tranquilo

March 18, 2014

Saturday was Emma’s birthday.  She was born on the Ides of March.  I’ve been working Saturdays, after I visit Bogart, which has been especially cool since Sharly started the coffee house.  But this Saturday she gave me off because Emma had invited me to her birthday celebration.

Basically, as usual, it was a family celebration for Emma.  Her immediate and some extended family go to her parents’ house for a day and evening of eating and talking.  All the time Emma was my best friend, she’d invite me.  Last year I didn’t go, she didn’t invite me, and/or I think I was in Boston.  Either way, I was pretty fucked up then.  The year before that was when Kathy committed suicide and I don’t really remember much how the early part of the year played out.

So anyway, first off, it was hard to figure out a perfect gift for Emma, but I got one.  I borrowed my mom’s car to go to the party and I left the gift in the car.  I was hoping for an opportunity to give it to Emma when we were separated from everyone else, because I didn’t want a bunch of “awwws” which is what would have happened.  I also wanted it to be a private moment between us.  So I waited for that opportunity.

When I arrived, her mother answered the door and gave me a big hug.  She touched my face and said “oh Valente, how are you doing darling?”  Her parents call me Valente because they knew me since I was 14, when Grimm was more of a nickname given to me by Emma, though it was more like Grim, and I didn’t legally change my name until I was 18.  I knew her mother was asking how I’m doing because she’s aware of all the stuff that’s been going on with me, particularly the most recent thing, the death of Valentina.  I told her I’m fine, but I was feeling both content and awkward that Emma likely had conversations with her mother about me.  I know this is true based on my accurate psychicisms.  But was Emma emphasizing what a loser I am or was she expressing concern and genuine sympathy?  It’s often difficult to have an objective perspective when intuiting things pertaining to yourself.  Doesn’t matter, either option sucks.

I went in and her father shook my hand and all her family seemed to be glad to see me.  It never felt awkward before, seeing her family, but it did Saturday.  The awkwardness was coming from me though.  I just was uncomfortable in my own skin.  I was feeling ashamed of mistakes and I also felt scrutinized as if everyone knew everything about me since they last saw me.  My own suicide attempt, the substance abuse, my stupidity, Valentina.  In order to be comfortable, I was forced to accept these things about myself, take them on, take them into me, and let them be what they were.  They were parts of me, the real me, and I’ve grown from all of it.  Instead of feeling ashamed, I chose to feel proud about how I’ve come to be where I am in life, and the fact that I’m making good progress.

For some reason, I hate when people use the word survivor when they’re just talking about life.  I mean, life in itself is surviving.  And if you’re alive, you’re surviving.  Survivor and victor are not synonymous, the way I see it, apart from the connotative sense that is the norm, but that’s not the definition that applies to my way of thinking.  Everyone survives their own obstacles and traumas, some people more than others.  People who get cancer or things like that are survivors, in the victorious sense of the word, especially since most of that entails the will to live, above and beyond what medical science is able to do.  Survivor means to me, simply existing.  In life, with all the circumstance from childhood on, surviving is expected, so it’s obvious.  There are the people who have been through natural disasters or wars, perilous circumstance beyond the trials of life such as extreme cases of victimization.  Yeah, those people are survivors if they live, victors if they come out ok, mostly from a psychological standpoint.  The meaning behind it all though, is overcoming something that would have otherwise killed you or destroyed you in some way, which I think is more of a victor.  I mean saying “I survived” sounds much less powerful than to say “I am victorious”.  In terms of the word survivor, the way it is tossed around, as for me, I guess I just don’t feel worthy of calling myself a survivor.  Basically, I’m just like an animal, doing what I got to do.  I just keep living and moving on.  I’m a striver, I guess, not a survivor, as in I’m not yet victorious.  And other than when I was a kid, I guess all the peril in my life I imposed upon myself.  Obviously I can’t be blamed for the deaths I’ve experienced, but that’s not surviving, that’s grieving and going forward.  I guess there’s the survivor who is the person who did not die from peril or was not destroyed mentally, emotionally, or psychologically, all circumstance imposed upon him or her, who is really a victor; and there is the survivor who got through life, who is all of us, with varying degrees of opposing situations.  In the end, when it is our time to die, we’ve all survived in one way or another until that moment, and some of us die victors.

Anyway, we were eating and talking and Emma’s grandmother speaks very little English but she was asking me why I was being so quiet.  Emma said to her, “Abuelita, èl nunca habla.”  And she responded, “Un chico tranquilo.”  “Sí, sí, muy tranquilo.  Èl habla mucho a veces, pero èl puede ser muy timido en compañia de muchas personas.  Recuerda?”

She said something like that, my Spanish isn’t great.  And of course, timido translates as shy, not timid.  My name is Wall Grimm and I am not timid.

The evening progressed and it was time for gift giving.  When it was my turn, I told her I had something else for her later, but for the moment I was going to play the harmonica for her.  So I got up and just kind of jammed a blues medley.  I’ve gotten pretty good at jamming on the harp.  Everyone started rooting me on in a bluesy kind of way and then the center of attention aspect of it got to be too much, so I said, that’s it, and sat down.  They applauded.  Emma was impressed.

Eventually people began leaving.  I decided to be the pain in the ass that they had to kick out later.  I intentionally planned to overstay my welcome.  But then as the last person was leaving, they invited me to spend the night.  Emma was spending the night.  They said I could sleep in the guest room.  I wanted to, but I opted out because, well, I guess I didn’t want Emma to get sick of me.  I also kind of wanted to leave before I no longer was able to control myself.  I imagined her parents would go to bed and she and I would stay up talking, and then I’d borderline sexually assault her by coming on too strong, and she’d get pissed off, and I would end up ruining what would otherwise have been a perfect evening.  So yeah, I wasn’t going to set myself up for that.  That’s called wisdom.  Not only learning from your mistakes, but utilizing the knowledge you’ve acquired.  I’m getting good like that.

I said no, but stayed a little longer, and her parents did end up going to bed.  Then I decided to get the gift out of the car, give it to her, and leave.  But that’s not how it played out in the end.  Yet I’ll have to continue this another time because I’m going upstairs to have coffee with Howard.  If I don’t get up there in time, I miss the awesome breakfast Daisy prepares.

My theme song is “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life” by Eric Idle/Monty Python from “The Life of Brian”, hopefully for obvious reasons when elderly Grimm reads this.


previous Grimm 169:  Grimm the Oxymoronic Dork Greaser Eats a Snickers

next Grimm 171: Emma’s Birthday part II & the Premature Boom

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: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

Wonderful Dragon Team Member Readership Loyalty Freshly NOT Pressed Awards

I am honored to be the recipient of three awards, thanks so much!  As usual, the toughest part is giving the awards to fellow bloggers because I think all of you deserve awards and I hate to exclude anyone.  So here’s a side note: if you would like an award sometime, leave me a comment or send me an email, and the next time I get one, I’ll be sure to award you.  Don’t be humble.

Anyway, here goes:

I received the “I’m NOT Featured on Freshly Pressed Award”



Thank you!

Directions for you to accept the “The I’m NOT Featured On Freshly Pressed Award”

1. Select the blog(s) you think deserve the “The I’m NOT Featured On Freshly Pressed Award”.

2. Write a blog post and tell us the blog(s) you have chosen – there are no minimum or maximum number of blogs required and ‘present’ the blog(s) with their award.

3. Include in your blog post a paragraph about why you’d like to be on WordPress’ Freshly Pressed OR a paragraph on why you couldn’t care less about Freshly Pressed. Up to you …

4. Let the blog(s) that you have chosen know that you have given them this award and share the instructions with them – (please don’t alter the instructions or the badge!)

5. Come over and say hello to the originator of the “The I’m NOT Featured On Freshly Pressed Award” via this link:

6. And as a winner of the award- please add a link back to the blog that presented you with this award, and then PROUDLY display the award on your blog.

7. If you ever do get officially “Freshly Pressed” then take down this award badge and display the official “Freshly Pressed” badge instead.

Ok, obliging the rules of the award, I guess I have to admit that I’ve been wanting to be Freshly Pressed for a while now.  I rationalize that a lot of my content isn’t appropriate, and I think that’s valid.  Especially here on “The Journal of Wall Grimm”.  However, on my Sage Doyle blog, I’m thinking I have some poetry that might be worthy.  I probably would never have thought that way prior to blogging, but my readers have boosted my ego and now I’m nearly convinced I’m good enough.  All that said, I don’t think Wall Grimm will ever be pressed since there’s too much sex and drug abuse.  But Sage Doyle….  So why do I want to be Freshly Pressed? Well, I’ll have to be blatantly honest to respond to that.  There are a couple of reasons.  The first reason pertains to the pride and pleasure I take in my writing, and I think receiving that honor would make me feel recognized on a different level.  In that respect it would feel as if I’ve achieved something great and it would be another milestone in my writing career.  The second reason pertains to selfish gain, truthfully.  What writer doesn’t want more readers?  I’m thinking perhaps more readership comes from being Freshly Pressed.  More readership for me could maybe help in my pursuit for publication.  Essentially, I suppose both answers emphasize success, just a bit more than I’ve already accomplished.

A note to my awardees, if you go over to you will find a variety of these badges that he created and you can choose the one you like.

My awardees are:

I wanted to honor one person in particular for this award, the first one who entered my mind:

I’d also like to give this award to

And as well to all the bloggers mentioned below as awardees.


I received:

The Dragon’s Loyalty Award



Thank you!

Directions for you to accept the Dragon’s Loyalty Award

1. Display the Award on your Blog.

2. Announce your win with a post and thank the Blogger who awarded you.

3. Present 15 deserving Bloggers with the Award

4. Link your awardees in the post and let them know of their being awarded.

5. Write seven interesting things about you

I think I’ve already said everything interesting about me that there is to know, when I received other awards, but I’ll give it a try.  I also can’t remember what I’ve already said, so if I repeat myself, that just proves how limited I am in the interesting department:

1.  My first pet that was my very own was a Siamese fighting fish that I creatively named “Fighter”.  There’s that joke about how you take the name of your first pet and the first street you lived on, and put them together to make your porn name.  That would make me Fighter Rollstone.

2.  I always wanted to be a mortician.

3.  My favorite cheap red wine is Carlo Rossi, either the chianti or the paisano.  I’m drinking the chianti as I type this, while snacking on flatbread crackers with Monterey Jack cheese, and watching the movie “Grabbers”.

4.  When I was in high school, a couple friends of mine and I would walk around the city, each with our own six pack, and sing Violent Femmes songs while being mildly vandalistic.  One of my favorite things we did was steal things from peoples’ yards and put them in their neighbors’ yards.  I don’t do that stuff anymore, but maybe I’ll include that in one of my Wall Grimm posts sometime.

5.  My favorite sport is baseball.

6.  I have a thing against the number 6.  For some reason, I just don’t like it.

7.  My favorite instrument is the bagpipes.

My awardees are (and remember you also receive the “I’m NOT Featured on Freshly Pressed Award”):


I received the:

Wonderful Team Member Readership Award



Thank you!

The rules of this award are as follows:

▪The recipients of the Wonderful Team Member Readership Award should display the logo on his/her blog.

▪The recipient then nominates 14 of their own blog’s readers who they appreciate. They can post their nominations all at once or little by little over a period of 7 days. They need to links to their nominees’ blogs and notify them that they are WTMRA recipients on their blogs.

Very simple rules.

My awardees (who also receive the “I’m NOT Featured on Freshly Pressed Award) are:

And that’s all.  Thank you so much, I deeply appreciate this honor!



Categories: NOTES FROM SAGE DOYLE | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 66 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 169: Grimm the Oxymoronic Dork Greaser Eats a Snickers

March 14, 2014

Yesterday, Pete, John, Ayla, Morgan, Sweetheart, and I dressed up like we were from the 50’s and then we went bowling.  Sweetheart actually joined us, which is a good thing.  Very unusual.  For a bohemian, she rarely leaves the apartment.  We convinced her to come and I believe she had a good time.  Though I missed part of it, which I will get into…  Anyway, it was pretty cool to be around Sweetheart without sex being some kind of strange force field in the air.  It was also a relief to not have the heaviness of Valentina’s death hovering about us.  Rather, there was definitely the grief, yet it was something we shared that brought us together in a way, the same sadness which is all encompassing, yet not seeming to be so debilitating anymore, at least not last night.  And being around her this time, finally I felt like I could be there for her and step outside myself.  Especially since I was dressed as a greaser.

So we were bowling and I got a strike and turned around enthusiastically to face the gang and Ayla called me a dork.  I said that I’m not a dork.  She says I am, most times, but in an adorable way.  I don’t know how to interpret that but adorable dork seems like an oxymoron to me.  An oxymoronic dork.  An adorable moron.  I decided to prove I was a cool greaser so I changed my shoes and went out to smoke the cigarette I had behind my ear, from the pack I had rolled up in my t-shirt sleeve.  I didn’t really feel the need to prove anything, I just wanted a smoke.

I went out and my lighter wasn’t working so I walked across the street where there was a convenient store, not a convenience store, but a store conveniently placed, and I bought a lighter.  When I walked out, I lit my cigarette and was waiting for the traffic to ease so I could cross, when a car pulled up and there were three women in the car, looked like they were in their late 20’s early 30’s.  They asked me if I was aware I looked like I was from the 50’s.  I said there’s no way I’d dress like this otherwise, it’s a thing my friends and I were doing.  They asked me to go for a ride with them so I did.  I don’t know why.  I just get curious about what can happen.  I figure if I say no, then I’ll always wonder what I missed out on, good or bad.

We drove and they were blasting music I hate and singing along with it.  They talked to me by shouting over the music.  We drove for about a half an hour and then they pulled into the parking lot for a bar.  I was like, this is the end of the line for me ladies, and I left after I had to resist lots of begging in that flirtatious way women have when they try to get men to do what they want.  Most times that works, but I was pretty strong willed last night, not even tempted.

They gave up, went in, and I began to walk, but it was cold in only a leather jacket and walking would take too long, so I decided to hitchhike to get back.  I walked about ten minutes, sticking out my thumb to passing motorists, when a car pulls up.  It was two teenagers, a boy and a girl.  They asked me to buy for them, I was like nope, you’re asking the wrong guy for that.  Then they confessed that they were tripping on acid.  I could tell by the way the kid was driving.  It was kind of freaking me out.  I think it’s the only time I’ve been in a car with a tripping driver when I wasn’t tripping myself.  Made me realize how lucky I am to be alive.  I told the kid to pull over, I’d drive.  Part of me wanted to fuck with them, get them paranoid that I was some kind of serial killer or psychopath, but I was in a mature frame of mind which was interesting.  I began to consider myself an unusual and unpredictable specimen.  There must be a scientific explanation to that, right Scully?

The kids were too trusting and let me get behind the wheel.  The gas light was on and not long after, the car ran out of gas.  We couldn’t make it to the gas station which was about a block away.  I walked there with them, bought them some gas and was going to move on my own way.  It’s good for me to see how stupid people are when they’re fucked up, reminds me how much I’d rather not be an idiot.  But instead, I walked back with them, put the gas in their car since they didn’t know how to do it from the gas can.  Then I said I’d return the can to the station, so I said goodbye.  As I was walking away, they seemed to finally realize how I was dressed and they told me I looked like I was from “The Outsiders” movie which they watched instead of reading the book for school.  Yep, bye.

I returned the gas can to the station.  While I was there, I bought a Snickers bar, and I ran into James on my way out.  I didn’t know who he was at first, but he was like, “remember me? at Sharly’s? I protected you from the scary girl ghost.”  Oh.  He told me he liked my ensemble and then I got a ride from him back to the bowling alley.  As I was getting out of the car, he told me if I ever decide to pitch for the other team and was interested in an older black man, to get in touch with him.  I said, “you flatter me. thanks for the ride.”

I went in the bowling alley and my friends were like, “where the hell have you been?”  I said I was there the whole time, just went out for a smoke and got a Snickers.  As I opened the Snickers, I asked, “did I miss my turn?” before taking a bite.  They said they tried to call but my phone was there.  I said that was proof, I’d never leave my phone in case Gary Oldman should call.

Then I confessed that the sirens tried to tempt me to drown myself, two teenagers in an alternate dimension tried to kill me, and a I was sexually propositioned by a 40 year-old black man.  They didn’t believe me.

Ayla called me a dork again.  It was a strange fucking night.

The most irrelevant yet appropriate or inappropriate and relevant theme song for this journal entry is “Prince of Parties” by Flight of the Conchords.  I fucking love that show.


previous Grimm 168:  Random Thoughts, Grimmheads, & Vincent LaGuardia Grimmbini

next Grimm 170: Emma’s Birthday & Striving Grimm el Chico Tranquilo

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: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 168: Random Thoughts, Grimmheads, & Vincent LaGuardia Grimmbini

March 11, 2014

I don’t really have much at all to say today so I’m just going to mention a series of random things.  My name is Wall Grimm and today I am random.


It’s nice to be on Spring Break, been on since Friday, and that’s all I have to say about school.

Upskirt shots are legal.  My thoughts on that?  Wrong.  That’s coming from someone who’s been the target of upkilt shots.  And upkilt in general.  I mean, if you have a chance to peak up a skirt and catch a glimpse of paradise, that’s just nature and circumstance.  Otherwise, it’s wrong, so don’t even argue with me.  The government is stupid.

The U.S. government is more totalitarian than people either realize or will admit.  I mean, think of the definition of the word govern.

I visited Bogart on Saturday.  He asked me when I’d be going back to stay with him again.  Interesting perspective.  He still seems to be driving people nuts but I’m not sure if he’s actually mellowed out and he’s just that manic now only when I visit because he gets excited, or if he’s still constantly in that state.

I was thinking about gangrene the other day.  Gangrene freaks me out.  It’s disturbing to think that a part of your body can die and decay and just fall off.  I think it spreads too if it’s not taken care of.  So I’m thinking if your body is gradually decaying, does that mean you’re becoming a zombie?  I mean you’re at least semi walking dead in a way, right?  I was reading the symptoms and one of them is that you hear a crackling sound when you press down on the affected area.  Whaat daa fuuck… that’s just…fucking (I just shuddered).  The body is a peculiar collection of tissue and strange functions, and yet somehow there is consciousness and free will in all of that.  Why are humans more advanced than amoebae?  One fortunate trait about humans is that, unlike some species, they can’t change gender for procreation purposes.  Well, I think that’s a good thing.  Some trannies would probably disagree.  That’s too X-Files though.  We also can’t spray people with our stink glands like skunks.  I think that would be a cool defense mechanism.  But at the same time it’s kind of a pussy thing to do.  Instead of getting in there like a predator and fighting to the death, you make someone smelly and run away.  Yeah, I wouldn’t want to be an amoeba, or a gender transforming thing, or a skunk.  And I don’t want to get gangrene.  I think I want to be a zombie though, at least temporarily to see what it’s like, and then my friends can kill my brain.

Speaking of zombies, one thing people in zombie movies rarely seem to address is killing the brain.  It takes them a while to figure that technique out.  Are the only survivors, according to the film industry, the people who’ve never seen a zombie film?  Is there that suspension of disbelief that zombies were never a genre or a science fictional possibility and so the survivors have to learn the rules that have already been established in the real yet ‘fake’ world?  I mean, all the zombie fanatics should really be the people to survive.  That would make sense.  I think so anyway.

Every now and then I appreciate cotton swabs.  On occasion, I think ‘holy shit what I really fucking need is to clean my ears!’  It’s a strange thing.  You never think of your ears until out of no where, that’s what you absolutely need to do more than anything else.  Then when you get those swabs and start swabbing your ears, it feels so fucking good.  Like an eargasm.  You don’t earjaculate though, because that would be fucking gross.

A few of the guys in The Convoy call me Wally or Wally Boy.  I hate it.  But when true Blues guys give you a nickname, it’s really an honor.  So I’m not complaining.  Except that Wally’s a dumb name.  I apologize to any invisible journal reading people by the name of Wally.  It’s just a dumb name for me.  For you, I’m sure it’s awesome.  Nice name, Wallies.

Maybe if I ever became an icon for some strange reason, my fans would be Wallies, or Wallites, or…wallets.  Or Grimm-ites, which reminds me of granite so I like that.  Grimmions, no, Grimmies, no.  Grimmheads.  Yeah, I like that.  Or Wallheads.  No Grimmheads.  That’s awesome.

I thought a good rapper name would be Testas Terone, or Testos Tyrone or something like that.  If I was a rapper…nah, I’d never be a rapper.

But if I was a spy, I’d be Grimm, Wall Grimm.

If I was in a movie with Gary Oldman, I’d want us to be psychopathic comrades.

If I was in a movie with Robert DeNiro, I wouldn’t want it to be a mafia film.  But neither would I want it to be something like “Meet the Parents”.  It would be more like “Mean Streets”.  Or mafia only if it’s “The Godfather” and I was a Corleone, but they never use the word mafia, just so you know.

If I was in a movie with Emma Stone, we’d have to have a love scene.  I could go on and on about actresses but I won’t.

If I was in a movie with Bruce Willis, there would have to be a scene in which I kick his ass.  The same goes for Chuck Norris, Javier Bardem.  There are no true bad ass actors that are my age.  I think the scariest mother fucker is Danny Trejo.  So I’d want to kick the shit out of him in a film too.  Ray Liotta’s too intense to even be in the same room with.

I’d like to be in film noir and I also want to be in a Dario Argento horror flick.  Definitely Hitchcock, Tarantino, and Scorsese films.  And Clint Eastwood.  I’d want to actually be Clint Eastwood though, back in “A Fistful of Dollars”.

If I were to change my name again, it would be Vincent LaGuardia Grimmbini.

Speaking of Joe Pesci, my theme for this journal entry is not a song, but that scene from “Goodfellas”, “what the fuck is so funny about me…” probably one of his most famous scenes ever.


previous Grimm 167:  Mixed Emotions and Undefined Philosophies

next Grimm 169:  Grimm the Oxymoronic Dork Greaser Eats a Snickers

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: , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 167: Mixed Emotions and Undefined Philosophies

March 7, 2013

Howard’s granddaughter Edie came to visit Howard and Daisy the other day.  She came with her mom.  At the time, Howard and I were sitting in his living room and having one of our conversations.  He’s a great guy to talk to, but sometimes it’s annoying because he tries to give me advice.  I know he’s got age and experience over me, but I kind of like to figure things out for myself.  Also, most of the things he says I’ve already thought of, maybe I just haven’t put them into action.  No matter what, I like our conversations, that usually start of silently, then a word or two gets thrown in, then words gradually get added, until we’re actually saying shit.

When Edie and her mom arrived, Howard and I had just started talking about him and his life for once, which was really interesting.  He usually asks me questions about mine and I’m kind of vague.  Needless to say, I was disappointed when the conversation had to end.  They arrived and I went outside for a smoke, then went downstairs to my place.  Not long after that, Edie came knocking on my door.

She asked why I left and I told her that it’s a family thing going on up there.   She said that Howard, whom she referred to as Grampa, considered me to be family.  Well that’s cool.  Sometimes it’s hard to tell if Howard even likes me.  Then I said that I bet he doesn’t want me talking to her though.  She laughed and kissed me.  When she stopped, she gave me this smile that I translated as “let’s fuck” but yeah, I could’ve been wrong about that.  I started kissing her more and she began rubbing my dick and squeezing my balls over my pants.  I got really hard.  Then she stopped and said, “I should go back upstairs.  See you later.”  I wanted to say hey wait a minute, get back here, but then I figured if it went further, Howard would either come down and catch us or find out somehow.  Then he’d kick me out.  Plus, I don’t beg.  I think she just wanted to tease me though.  She wanted me to believe something was going to happen so I’d get all hot and bothered.  wtf.  wtf about Edie and wtf about Howard.  I have no philosophies about that, but I’m going to try and figure it out.

My name is Wall Grimm and these are my unformed philosophies:


I think girls like when they get a guy all ready to go and then stop because then the guy becomes debilitated in many ways and is transformed into this mass of mindless jelly and sexually induced brainlessness.  Then the girl has the ability to dictate the situation, with any decent guy that is.  Non-decent guys will not be able to control themselves.  But I think most girls have a sense of which guys are safe to use this power against.  I’m one of those guys.  So they get the guy to the point that there’s a fine line between remaining in control and pure Neanderthal.  There is a fraction of thought left which keeps control on one side.  On the other side, the mindlessness is all about physiological gratification.  So they leave you on the brink of that, and then the only words you can say are “but, wait, hey, but, but, but, hey, b-b-bblll-blbblbbbb”.  And they laugh because they’ve metamorphosed a once cool and confident guy into an erect penis which just stands there like an idiot with one goal in mind, and completely incapable of charming his way in her pants or making any sense.  The girls like that, I think, because it makes them either feel good about themselves, or they’re just amused by it.  In Edie’s case I think it amused her.  That makes me think she’s a bitch.  Because it’s not funny.  Not nice.  And the thing about it in my case in particular is that once sex comes into play, or the prospects of it, there goes all my psychicisms and intuitions.  I’m like a piece of wood in more ways than one.

My thoughts on Howard are that he likes me, sees himself in me, but maybe too much for him to want me near his granddaughter.  He doesn’t want to think of her getting involved with a guy like me, who doesn’t completely have his shit together yet, and who also has his intentions for another girl in the end.  Simple as that.

And yeah those are lame philosophies, but whatever.

So she left me down there, almost too horny to jerk off if that makes any sense.  But I had to do it.  And I hate jerking off around Gary Oldman (II) because she jumps on the bed and gets fascinated by the whole process.  If I have the blankets covering me, she tries to attack whatever’s moving beneath the blanket.  Then I have to go finish in the bathroom because that’s just weird and distracting.

But this day she was occupied with one of my socks that she was pouncing on and running around with in her mouth, so I stayed on the bed and of all people Emma called during it.  There’s no way I’m ignoring a call from Emma.  She reminded me that her birthday’s coming up and she wanted to invite me to go to her family’s house for cake.  This amazed me.  I mean, I always saw Emma on her birthday, except for last year, I was so fucked up at this time last year, and that was after the Valentine demolition and everything.  But anyway, so I was just like “ohh yeah” as in both surprise and in ecstasy as I couldn’t help but continue what I was doing somewhat while hearing Emma’s voice.  She was like, “are you ok?” “yeah why?” “you sound out of breath. were you working out?” “yeah, that’s what I’m doing” yeah I’m working it real hard Emma.

Not my fault so shut up invisible people.

I slowed down though, and waited until we hung up for me to cum.  See, I have respect.

Anyway, so this journal entry is about mixed emotions I guess: pissed off, annoyed, and sexually frustrated because of Edie; annoyed, offended, and disparaged by Howard, (disparaged, good word); and sexually frustrated, disparaged, and yet encouraged because of Emma.  Encouraged because maybe we’ll be friends like we used to be.  In the end if I can’t have her, at least I’d settle for that.

My name is Wall Grimm and I am pissed off, annoyed, offended, disparaged, sexually frustrated, yet amazingly hopeful.  It’s just a way of life.

And so, based on this, my theme song is “Kiss Off” by the Violent Femmes.


previous Grimm 166:  The Actors, the Disney Princess, the Egyptian God, & Uncle Dan

next Grimm 168:  Random Thoughts, Grimmheads, & Vincent LaGuardia Grimmbini

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: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

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