April 14, 2014
On Thursday morning it was a challenge to wake Cola, but once I did, she began a morning ritual that I had no time for. She went to bed looking like a man, no wig, no makeup, and I loaned her something to sleep in. She woke up looking like a man and it’s a process for her to transform. I understand that, but I didn’t have time, so I had to leave. I told her I’d tell Howard she was there and when she was ready she could go up and get coffee or something, and that she could stay there if she wanted. I’d come home between school and work to get her or if she needed to go somewhere, I left her money for a taxi. But when I got home, she was still there. I went and talked to Howard and he said, “Something about you Grimm, you don’t just attract all kinds of people, you befriend them.” That’s a compliment coming from Howard. And Daisy seemed to adore Cola, said she was a lovely girl, and so tall. I don’t think she realized. And Howard wasn’t about to explain it to her. He just nodded and said, “yes she is.” Then he had that rare Howard look in his eye. It was amusement, but not in mockery. It’s a rare look, except he makes it often in reference to me. Rare with regards to other people.
Anyway, Cola asked if I could go with her to collect her things from her apartment and get her to a hotel. I didn’t have much time before I had to get to work, so I just told her to spend another night if she wanted. I had a shorter school day on Friday and could do it with her then. I work six days per week now. Every day but Monday. Monday I don’t have school either. It’s reserved strictly for the blues. Blues Monday. She was ok with that. So the same routine happened Friday, and when I got home from school, Cola was on my bed reading all my old journals. They were in a locked box, in a hole in the wall that I created, behind an “Easy Rider” poster. I’m not much of a poster guy, but it was my idea on how to hide my journals, and I got the poster at a flea market so it felt right.
She had to really dig around everywhere like the freakin’ FBI to find that box. Then she had to break into the box. My current journal is always with me, as is Gary Oldman (II), who seems to like Cola a lot. I was aghast when I walked in and saw her there reading my journals. I was just waiting for the right opportunity to use the word aghast and this works. Horrified. Aghast. Rigormortified.
I was speechless, and when she began to explain herself, for some reason I didn’t care anymore. She said something along the lines of, “You have nothing, Wall Grimm. You hardly have any possessions. I have so many things. And I was soooo bored. I wanted to snoop. I looked everywhere. I’m wearing a pair of your bikini briefs. It’s the only time I like to wear men’s underwear, when it belongs to a man.” I told her she could keep them.
She said she searched under, behind, above, below everything. The only thing of interest was the locked box and since it was locked, her curiosity was too much for her. Especially since she found the key first during her search. She said if it was money or valuables, she’d have put it back right away, she’s no thief. But she couldn’t resist reading. She said that now she loves me and thinks I’m fascinating and peculiar and she wants to meet Emma so she can tell me if Emma’s worth my pining for. She wants to meet all my friends. And she wants to know more about my Gypsy blood and my psychicisms.
During the whole weekend she asked me questions and commented on the stuff I wrote, talking about it like it was a novel she just read. She wants to read my current journal and know what I’ve said about her. For some reason it doesn’t bother me to have this one person know all my secrets. Maybe it’s because she shares a lot with me about herself, and I like to hear her perspective on observations and thoughts I’ve had. It’s like she’s my living journal now, she knows more than anyone else has ever known about how I think and feel about stuff. She knows my internal response to the external struggles that people randomly and rarely witness personally. It’s almost like I’ve confided in her, without saying a word. I never confide in people.
After that, I kind of didn’t want to leave her off at a hotel. Just set her off and free into the world with all that knowledge about me. So I told her she could stay for a while. She was happy about that and she told me that I was still a mystery. I asked her why because she knows everything. She said no, she senses I hold back, even in my journal, I don’t say it all.
She’s going to go shopping today while I’m at Blues Monday. I don’t know what for, but she said she will join us next week maybe. She didn’t come with me to visit Bogart on Saturday either. That turned out to be a good thing, since Bogart was furious that I didn’t visit him last Saturday. Ironically, he’s less violent with me when he’s mad at me than when he’s glad to see me. He just whined and complained and shouted. I told him I had been arrested after being abducted, but it took a while for him to get his emotions out before he could let that sink in. Finally, he realized I had been detained by the Boston Police, and he laughed and thought that was hysterical, said he’d been there himself. Then it was like he completely forgot he was upset with me to begin with.
Otherwise, Cola’s kind of my entourage now. Cola and Gary Oldman (II). And me in my Eastwood and Stepping Wolves. Howard brought down a cot for me to sleep on, since I gave my bed up to Cola. The basement apartment is basically like a studio. It’s one huge room, with a small bathroom with a shower, no tub. There’s a small fridge, sink, counter area and few cabinets. There’s a microwave and a toaster. Laundry machines are in the basement itself, not in my apartment. So it’s spacious but, crowded with more than one person. Fortunately I go to school and work a lot. Though my times at home tend to be when I read or write or do homework or it’s where I work out when I’m not running. Cola’s good though, she’s begun writing now too. I guess I inspired her. But she’s kind of distracting even when we write together. She’ll start laughing and make me read the funny thing she wrote. Or she’ll say, “oh this is so sad, I’m not sure I want you to read this….oh ok, I guess I’ll let you.” As if I asked to or had a choice.
But I like having her around. I think at this point in my life, she’s the closest thing to having someone thoroughly understand me. And now I’m beginning to wonder if I actually want people to understand me. Maybe I enjoy baffling people. Yeah, I just decided I do. But if there’s one person who isn’t baffled by me, it’s ok if that’s Cola. Since she says she still thinks I’m peculiar and that I haven’t lost any intrigue. And she’s wise enough to know that I didn’t write everything, there’s more to me than just what I’ve written in my journals. She’s also the only person who’s ever said that she’s glad I’ve suffered, because she likes who I am as a result of it, it makes me a better person. But right after she said that, she added, “And you’re such a naughty slut. I like that about you.” C-O-L-A Cola.
And my theme song for today is “Somewhere I belong” by Linkin Park because I think it’s kind of a rough synopsis to all my journal entries combined into one entity.
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