Monthly Archives: May 2014

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 188: For Emma

*Please be sure to watch the video of the song, “For Emma” at the end of this journal entry.  Music and performance by Kev Cooper at  Lyrics by Sage Doyle


May 19, 2014


My performance for Emma on Saturday night happened.  This is my story about that.

I was nervous and I wasn’t sure why, but it was almost debilitating.  I went separately from Howard and the rest of the guys.  Separately from everyone, even Cola.  I just needed to be alone.   That felt good at first, not being around a bunch of people going, “are you ok? you’ll be all right. don’t worry about it, it’ll be awesome.”  But then once I realized I was alone with myself, I knew I was in trouble.  On the way to Sharly’s store, I stopped at the liquor store and got a bottle of vodka.  I wasn’t planning on drinking any, I wanted it just in case.  Like some kind of medicine or cure, a remedy.  I wanted it for emergency purposes.  Anyway, I fucking hate vodka, but it doesn’t smell as strong as whiskey.  I could have a few swigs and people wouldn’t smell it on me.  I bought it and kept it in my backpack, and put it in the back room with no intentions of having it.  As the night progressed and the first set was going smoothly, I even forgot about it now and then.

We played three sets.  I was supposed to perform my song “For Emma” during the second one.  We had about a 10/15 minute break between each set.  The first break for me was longer because a few of the other guys also had solo performances at the beginning of the second set.  So I went out back to have a smoke.  Pete came out after I lit up and was like, “that was awesome!”  I didn’t want to be rude but I needed my space so I said thanks but I can’t interact right now.  He went in and a couple guys came out to smoke.  I don’t know who they were so I went around to the side and stood at the corner of the building, peering around to the front.

Then I saw Emma.  She was talking to someone in a car, it looked like her cousin from out of town that she came with.  The cousin got out of the driver’s seat and moved to the passenger seat.  Emma got behind the wheel, and they drove off.

They fucking left.  She was gone.  She never even said goodbye.

Fuck it, I thought.  I went round back grabbed my backpack, went into a stall in the men’s room, and sat on the back of the toilet with my feet on the seat.  I hung my backpack on the back of the door, pulled out the vodka and started drinking.  I pulled out a bottle of valerian and took a handful of them.  I hate vodka, it made me kind of gag, but I got it down.

I don’t know how long I was in there but I had drunk about 1/2 the bottle and I was feeling pretty good with my low tolerance.  Pete comes in the bathroom at that point, I see him through the crack in the door.  He was leaning against the sink and texting.  Just as I started to feel the phone vibrate in my pants, which would have made a sound, Cola comes in, “Did you find him?”  Pete said no.  He said he was trying to text me.  Cola said, “don’t text, call.”  Pete calls, this time I have the phone in my hand.  I took it out to turn it off but got distracted by listening to them talk.  Once again, just as the phone will vibrate, which can be heard in the acoustics of this bathroom, Hasty walks in.  She says, “Did you find him?”  They say no.  Cola says, “you’re not supposed to be in the men’s room.”  Hasty said, “neither are you.”  “Well, I have the equipment.”  “You certainly do.”

Then Pete calls me again while they’re having this conversation.  I try to hold the phone tightly to cover the sound of the vibration, since I was once again distracted from turning it off.  I don’t need shit about that, I’m brain damaged and I was drunk and valerianized.  So he calls, and the phone flies up out of my hand like a bar of soap and lands right in the toilet with a loud plop.

“Grimm?”  They all looked at the stall I was in.

They got me out and Pete was like, you have to perform soon, Howard sent me looking for you.  I told him that Emma left, and they all went quiet.  I got the sense that for the first time ever people were sympathizing with why I drank, why I relapsed, almost like they couldn’t blame me this time.  Pete said, “You know what?  Do it anyway, go out there and perform it the best you can, because she’ll hear about it.  Let her hear about it, what you planned for her, and what she missed.  Show her you had the dignity to still perform it.”  And that made so much fucking sense and sounded so good, but I was wicked drunk.  I told them that and they were like, well, we have to wake you up.  But I didn’t want to leave the men’s room.  The first thing Pete did was confiscate the vodka.  I discouraged him from retrieving my phone from the toilet.  Hasty went out and came back with Gatorade, crackers, and coffee.

As they were all shoving this shit in my face and down my throat, Howard peered in.  Pete told him I couldn’t perform until the third set.  Howard said, “Who are you, Jim Morrison?  Ok, kid, you got ’til the end of the second break.”

Howard left.  I said I needed a smoke and that I thought I’d be all right.  I went out, Cola and Hasty stayed with me.  Pete came out when I was nearly done my second cigarette and said, “Two things.  First, the guys are ready for you.  Second, Emma’s back.”

“She’s back?”

“Yeah, her cousin spilled coffee on herself and wanted to change, but didn’t want to drive back to Emma’s on her own since she’s unfamiliar with the area, so Emma drove her.  They were planning to come back, and…they’re back.”

I felt sick.  Even though I was discouraged that she left, a part of me felt relieved.  Now those nerves came back and I felt weary, drunk, sick.  Plus with all the valerian I took, I felt like I was going to fall asleep standing up.

We went back in, Howard told me when I’d be performing my song, and we began the third set.  I sucked.  And I fell off the makeshift stage.  The guys kept playing while people helped me up and gave me a chair.  I lowered the microphone and played that way, which was a little better.  I saw my parents out in the crowd with looks of concern on their faces.  They were talking to Pete, who seemed to be everywhere that night.

Anyway, the moment finally arrived when I was to perform the song.  Howard handed me a guitar that was set aside and tuned for it.  I said into the microphone, “I wrote this song that I want to perform.  It’s a song I wrote for Emma.  It’s called, ‘For Emma’.  So I’m going to perform it right now for you Emma, this song’s for you.”

I hope I made myself clear.  I’m an asshole.

I performed the song and during it, I felt sad, nervous, and certain I failed because I got drunk.  But mostly I felt like I was going to puke.  So when the song ended, the crowd applauded and cheered.  They loved it, and it made me feel good, but when I stood to take the applause, I knew I was going to puke.  I headed off the platform towards the men’s room and Emma appeared in front of me.  She hugged me and kissed my cheek and said it was beautiful.  I said, “can I talk to you in a minute, I’m going to be sick” or some jumble of that context.  I went through the door and projectile vomited onto the stall doors.  Cola came in and said it looked abstract.  Red Gatorade, black coffee, the white stall doors, little chunks of crackers and then there were what appeared to be bits of capsule from the valerian.

Then I was done.  I didn’t have to puke anymore.  Cola said she’d tell Sharly about the mess.  I washed my face, left the bathroom, grabbed myself a ‘tasty beverage’ and went out back for a smoke.

Emma followed me out.  She told me that was the sweetest, most romantic thing that anyone’s ever done for her.  And that she knows no one will ever top it ever.

I said, “I will.”

“I believe you’re the only one who could.”

I couldn’t say anything.  What the hell was I supposed to say? uhhhh so Emma, duhhh you love me now?

She hugged me again and kissed me on the lips.  “You’re amazing.”

“But you’re not in love with me.  I think I figured that out.  I get it.  Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m confused.”

“You can’t be confused about whether you’re in love with someone or not.  I think it’s pretty obvious when you are.”

“I’m confused about something else.”


“I don’t know.”

Then she leaned against the front of Sharly’s truck.  Leaned up on it right beside me and took my arm and wrapped it around her, then she squished against my body and rested her head on me.

She said, “I’m going to Spain.  But let’s not talk right now.  Let’s talk later.  Let’s just enjoy this moment.”

And we enjoyed the moment and never did talk.  Not that night, and not since then.  But she said she was going to Spain so that pretty much tells me she’s not altering her life for a relationship with me.  This is especially true since she looked at me all night after that, not like she was in love with me, but like she was feeling compassion for me, which is basically feeling bad for me.

Since then, I’ve not talked much to anyone and people are respecting my space.  But at least I have an excuse since I have no phone.  I worked yesterday and I’m going to Blues Monday today.  I’m just moving on with my life.  Kind of empty, but living.

What sucks the most is nothing’s final.  Emma could come back.  There’s more she probably wants to say.  Her graduation/going away party is this coming Saturday.  Maybe we’ll talk then, if I decide to go.




“For Emma”

Every time I see you
there’s so much I want to say
but I fear that my honesty
would make you turn away
I want to expose my heart
my worth
the value of my soul
I’ve tried and failed because I’m such a fool
and there’s more for you to know

Because you make me want to be a better man
you inspire my strength and capability
I want so much for you to understand
I need to prove this truth and my sincerity

You are the breeze of every morning
which eases the life in me
you are the muse of all my moments
my peace and intensity

Whenever I think of you
there’s an agony inside
because I know I’m not the man
who deserves you at his side
I’ve made mistakes, I’ve done bad things
I’ve lost you as a friend
I’m working hard to create a world
I’ll be a proper man in the end

Because you make me want to be that better man
you inspire my strength and capability
I want so much for you to understand
I need to prove this truth and my sincerity

You are the breeze of every morning
which eases the life in me
you are the muse of all my moments
my peace and intensity

You are the rhythm of my heartbeat
the eminence of my esteem
you are the benefit of my existence
my peace in intensity
and I love you
Emma, I love you
I love you
Emma, I love you…


previous Grimm 187: Special Agent Spy Grimm the Romantic Neurocollegist

next Grimm 189: Rigamacaronified, Nondignification, & Rising Up Against the Dick-Tator

Hasty is based on herself from

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” 187: Special Agent Spy Grimm the Romantic Neurocollegist

May 16, 2014


I went last night to Emma’s graduation ceremony.  I didn’t reveal I was there.  I was incognito in a fedora and dark shades.  I looked like a spy.  Special Agent Spy.  Or maybe a detective.  Yep, I’m Emma’s very own Private Dick.  The innuendo in that is so blatant I don’t need to comment any further.  Though I just did.  Let me try that again.

My name is Wall Grimm and I am Emma’s very own Private Dick.

Anyway, tomorrow night is when I perform my song for Emma and I’m fucking nervous as all hell about that.  I don’t know why.  First of all, it’s no huge reveal or anything like that, I mean, she knows how I feel.  Second, it’s not the first time I’ve ‘serenaded’ her.  I think part of it is performing in front of an audience, kinda freaking about that.  But maybe it’s mostly because of how much weight I’ve put on this event.  I have been looking at it as if this will decide my fate.  She will either have me or reject me, and the idea of her rejecting me feels so final.  Like I’ve been walking for hundreds and hundreds of miles to solve the riddle of my life and when I finally get to the end of my journey, some creepy little Yoda guy tells me I went the wrong way.

Then he tries to give me directions.

Then I punch him in the face.

Then I just keep going.

And he says, “Turn back you must.  Listen to me you not are.  Yourself go fuck.”

And I’m just being weird now.  Moving on.

Sweetheart wrote me a letter and sent it in the mail.  She mailed it apparently the day she left.  I’m relieved that she didn’t just take off with no words for me.  The letter arrived yesterday and I don’t feel compelled to attached it to this particular journal entry at this time, however, I will at some point.  I just don’t want to think about it because it talks about Valentina.  So I read it quickly through, and I plan to read it again when I’m ready to let it reach me.  But basically she explained why she needed to go, which makes complete sense, and she also explained why she didn’t say goodbye to me, which makes sense in a logical way but not so much that it compensates the lack of consideration behind it.  Whatever, I’ll paste it in here at some point when I’m ready to deal with it.

Otherwise, hmmm, oh yeah, one thing I neglected to mention is that I’m done the semester and these are my grades I got:

Intro to Cognitive Neuroscience – 4.0

General Psych – 4.0

Abnormal Psychology – 4-0

Applied Statistics – 3.5

The general and abnormal psych were easy and interesting.  The cognitive neuroscience was pretty fascinating.  And I applied my own experience to lot of the course work.  Because it’s neuropsychology, crossing fields of science, and it can explain cognitive processes after brain damage.  And I’m brain damaged, in a literal not a figurative sense.  Mildly brain damaged from the freakin’ gangsta when he smashed a chair over my head.  In the beginning it was much more challenging, but what I’ve done is, or what my brain has done is, create new pathways to do the jobs that the damaged area was responsible for carrying out.  It was a great course which focused on how the mechanics of the brain, all it’s pieces and parts and inner workings, somehow establish the mind and thought process, and personality.  The idea of it is really baffling because if you think about it, it’s comparable to how people could create a machine that has emotions and opinions, a sense of humor or lack thereof, interests and dislikes.  It’s just not possible.  But that’s why life is amazing, because the biology of a collection of living cells is intensely complex it hurts my brain to think of it right now so I’m going to shut up.

Then there was statistics.  I used to be good at math.  But with all the drugs and shit and processing inefficiencies, well, I fucking hate math it’s almost painful to do it.  So I got a 3.5 with help from a tutor at the college.  In general, for all my classes, I sat in the front row, participated in class, attended with minimal absences, and communicated with my professors regularly.  That is about 90% of most grades.  Because even if there’s course work that you get lower grades on, you can do extra work to bring your grades up.  I didn’t do that this semester, but I did that when I was in school before.  I have two examples of this.  My name is Wall Grimm and these are my examples of how I improved my grades:


Coincidentally, they were both history classes.

1.  A History of India.  I took an essay exam and my mind evaporated.  I couldn’t remember anything.  It was the worst test taking experience of my life and it was an excruciating, embarrassing disaster.  I got a 1.0 or something.  I went to the professor and said I have no idea what happened, I completely panicked, test anxiety or something.  I do have test anxiety now since that experience, by the way.  I sit down for a test and my mind goes completely blank.  It’s the strangest thing.  Anyway, so the professor told me I could either retake the test or write a 10 page paper.  I chose the paper.  He gave me a 4.0 on the paper and that was my exam grade.

2.  A History of Mexico.  I got a 3.0 on a paper we had to write.  I was really pissed off because I was getting 4.0’s on all my papers in all my other courses, so I didn’t know what the problem was.  I talked to the professor, he told me that for the papers, I could choose my own topic, first approved by him.  So rather than to write based on the prompt he gave to the class, I created my own prompt.  Then I got 4.0’s on all the papers.

And so there it is.  Wall Grimm’s Strategies for College Success.

Now I’m free until next semester.  I might take a course over the Summer, I haven’t decided yet.  We’ll see about what this Summer brings.  Emma’s going to Spain and Snow White is coming to visit from Disney World.  That sounds funny, even coming from my life.  Snow White and Grimm over the Summer, hmmmm.  Speaking of which, she texted me the other day saying that she saw the video of me in the kilt with the ice cream.  It’s like once something “goes viral”, it just never dies, it re-emerges repeatedly in waves, and it takes a while before it reaches everyone.  And just when I forget about it, or think the world has forgotten about it, someone either recognizes me or mentions it to me.  But yeah, she said she saw it, and then her next text was, “I’m really looking forward to visiting you”.  Is there a connection between the two comments – my genitalia a la mode, and her eagerness to visit?  I wonder, what could it mean…

It’s probably obvious that I’m ignoring my anxiety about performing tomorrow night, and that deep down inside I think it’s unrealistic of me to expect Emma to change her life goals and suddenly fall in love with me.  But I’m a romantic, and I’ll try to approach circumstance with optimism, even if it’s remote.  Then again Romeo was an optimistic romantic too.  Maybe it’s just being Italian.

My theme song is “Weapon of Choice” by Fatboy Slim only because Christopher Walken is fucking awesome in that video.



previous Grimm 186: Bogart, Men-Haters, Sensuality, & Other Stuff

next Grimm 188: For Emma

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 186-210 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 18 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 186: Bogart, Men-Haters, Sensuality, & Other Stuff

May 13, 2014


Saturday I went to visit Bogart and his mother was there.  He saw me come in and he was more excited than usual, but I didn’t think that was possible.  He came up to me shoved me a few times until I was against the wall then he took me by the shirt and slammed me against the wall a couple times until he embraced me tightly around the neck and head.  Seriously he’s like a St. Bernard jumping all over you and knocking you over, a giant puppy using every bit of the estimated 6′, 175lbs of himself to express his affection for you.  He was blabbering on in his Cockney through it and I had no idea what he said.  Finally he pulls me over to his mother and was like, “this is Constable, ‘e’s me ol’ china, me best mate, mum, the fuckin’ twat, me ol’ china, ‘e is,” seeming to not recall that I’ve met her before.  Then he grabbed me by the head and actually kissed me in a forceful, slobbery smack on the mouth and wrapped his arms tightly around the upper part of my torso.  By the time we sat with his mother I felt like someone had thrown me in a clothes dryer for an hour, then just pulled me out and through me onto the chair.

The visit was strange with his mother there.  She’s strange.  And when she and I were leaving the institution she was quiet, but before we walked in opposite directions to get to our cars, (I was using Iona’s that day), she mumbled that she was done with him, that I could have him, and that she’d be contacting me.  Interesting prospects on the horizon.

Later that night, Sharly’s coffee house had a female singer and her band, and the audience was the largest assortment of women who were either feminists, lesbians, man-haters, or any combination of those categories, that I have every seen.  I felt very out of place.  There were some men there.  They were either the sensitive, earthy types or gay.  I’m sensitive in that I’m compassionate, and I’m earthy in that I’m vegetarian and I like nature.  But somehow these men are different from me.  The difference from the gay men is obviously that I’m not gay.  But the other guys, I don’t know what it is.  Maybe it’s because I’m Sicilian.  I’m not so much hippy as I’m bohemian due to my gypsy blood.  I’m a gypsy punk cowboy blues man.  That doesn’t describe any of them.  So I reiterate, I felt very out of place.  Don’t get me wrong, they were all cool people, except the man-haters kind of freaked me out.  They either looked upon me like I was scum, or they treated me like a piece of meat.  I mean they literally objectified me.  A few of them even had a conversation while I was standing within their group, as I usually go around and check on how people are doing or whatever, and they talked as if I wasn’t there but addressed me directly saying that I was a good specimen for procreation, as they looked me up and down, because apparently that’s all men are good for.  We’re all just sperm donors as far as they’re concerned, and useless for anything other than sex.  Feminists and man-haters are not one in the same, though sometimes there’s a crossover.  But for the most part, the feminists individualized and didn’t hate men as a whole.  It’s ironic that I say that while I generalize all these categories.  It’s just a cross section of the crowd and not intended to limit anyone to the confines of stereotype or generalization.  I’ll leave that for the men-haters to do.

On Sunday, I spent time with my mother, of course.  I got the time off from work and we went to the Museum of Fine Arts, and even had lunch in the expensive third floor restaurant, and later had coffee in the café.  It was a good day with my mother, though as usual, when I have time with her like that, I just wish I could go back to childhood and make some things different and have her solve all my problems and guide me in the right direction without my resistance.

On Blues Monday, we practiced our set for the coming weekend when we will be performing at coffee house.  We’re going to get together a few more times this week.  I have been practicing my song for Emma also, because Howard taught me how to play it on the guitar.  I’m not very good but I’m getting better, so I’ve been working on it as much as possible.  Cola is the only one outside of The Convoy who has heard the song, by default, because she’s living in the same room as me.  I’m really nervous about the whole thing so I don’t want to focus on it too much right now.  But at least I know for sure that Emma is coming.

Later Monday night, which was last night, Iona, Cola, and I went to Pete’s.  It seems Sweetheart has left.  He said he came home Sunday night after visiting his mother, since he’s been re-establishing his relationship with his parents, and Sweetheart was gone.  She left him a note thanking him for everything, but she left nothing for me, which kinda hurts and confuses me.  I don’t understand why she would disregard everything we’ve been through together by not even writing a simple note or anything, but there’s nothing I can do to change that so I guess I have to move on.  And I don’t want to talk about that either.  And even last night, I blew it off, like I tend to do when something hurts me, I put it aside, especially when I’m around other people.  So we just hung out and played some games and talked.

Iona started talking about running again, we did go on Saturday and she could only make it a mile, but we walked a lot too.  I ran more around the track than she did, and she was okay with that, not so concerned about abduction since I was in the vicinity.  So she was talking about that and saying how good it felt to run, her body felt awesome from that one day.  Then she began to talk about how she used to always feel she had a certain sensuality that came natural to her, but somewhere along the way she lost it, and she’d like to have it back again.  She said to me, “like you, you’re naturally sensual, it just comes from within.”  Cola said, “I’d like for his sensuality to come within me.”  Nice pun. C-O-L-A Cola.  Then she said, “But I also feel sensual, and I don’t think I lost it.”  We all agreed that we didn’t think she could ever lose it.

Then Cola said that Amy Winehouse’s song “You Know I’m No Good” reminds her of me, she said, “In an abstract way influxed with opposites because I’m very good.”  Yeah, it’s strange.  But I’m making it my theme song for today.



next Grimm 187: Special Agent Spy Grimm the Romantic Neurocollegist

previous Grimm 185: Iona, the Theme of Random, & Psychotic Mental Vomit

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 186-210 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 16 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 185: Iona, the Theme of Random, & Psychotic Mental Vomit

May 10, 2014


I went to Iona’s this week in between classes and when I knew she’d be home.  I wanted to apologize for being rude the other night and she was very forgiving.  She seriously has got to be the nicest girl I have ever known.  It would be ideal if I was in love with her.  Although, she’d probably let me do whatever I wanted and it would create a pattern of my being a pain in the ass loser, and her forgiving me.  I’d be too free to make mistakes.  I don’t know how to describe that without sounding like an asshole.  I wouldn’t purposely take advantage, it would just be a situation that we’d settle in.  It wouldn’t involve cheating, because if I’m in love I won’t cheat.  So I don’t know what it would entail, I don’t know… Shut up, stop asking questions, Invisible People.

Anyway, I went there and it was a beautiful day, finally it felt like Spring.  It’s been raining after two days of that.  But that day we decided to go for a walk, but she wanted to shave her legs first.  She got in the bath and I sat on her couch playing with Gary Oldman (II), who still goes pretty much everywhere with me, I just don’t always mention her.  And I was wearing my Eastwood and Stepping Wolves.  Iona still calls me Cowboy mostly, even when I don’t.

I was on the couch and after about a 1/2 hour I hear all this splashing going on in the tub.  So I walk in the bathroom and I’m like, “what the fuck are you doing, swimming in here?”

She kind of screamed, startled.  She was on her hands and knees in the tub and sat down and said, “oh my god, get out!”

hmmmmmm, thought I.  Then I asked if she was drowning and wanted me to save her.  She laughed but told me to get out again.

When she came out, she was embarrassed, but she explained she was helping the water bring the hair down the drain.  If she doesn’t do that, then there’s little hair stubble bits left in the tub.  But I asked her why she was embarrassed and what was the deal anyway because it’s not like I haven’t seen her naked.

She told me that she’s not happy with her body and that the times we’ve had sex, she has to psychologically prepare herself for that and sometimes force false confidence enough for it to happen.  Then she told me she wanted me to help her lose weight and get in shape.  I said I don’t really know how to help someone do that.  She said maybe I can go running with her, so I said I would.  She told me that she’s scared to run alone because she’s been watching the show “Missing” on Netflix, and she’s also afraid people will make fun of her as they drive by.  I hadn’t realized how insecure she was.  So I guess we’re going to start running a few days per week together.  I try to run every day, unless something comes up to take that time from me, but the more I stick to a routine, the less that happens.  She just wants to start with 3 days.  And she has a car, I don’t, so she can drive to meet me wherever or she can pick me up.

And that’s all I have to say about Iona.  Now I’m going to finish off my journal entry with 5 brief and random things:

1. Cola and I went to Pete’s one night and the three of us watched “The Big Lebowski”.  Sweetheart was in her room resting because she was sick, so I had made some soup for her and brought it over.  I make a good soup.  Anyway, we watched Lebowski, and since then, every now and then, one of us will say, “The Dude abides.” and another one of us will say, “Shut the fuck up Donny.”  Mostly it’s me and Cola since I don’t see Pete that much, but we will text it.

2. Speaking of texting, I’m sick of that bull shit.  One thing I can’t stand is when I’m having a conversation with someone and their face is in the phone the whole time.  It’s different when you’re around that person every day, like a roommate or something, but when you’re in the company of someone you don’t see that often, it pisses me off and I think it’s rude.  All I can think is, ‘can you please get your fucking face out of your fucking phone while you’re having a fucking conversation with me.’

3. Speaking of being rude, sometimes I am self sacrificially polite, when I’m not wrapped up in my own shit.  When I’m wrapped up in my shit, I fall into patterns of rudeness, or what I perceive to be as rude, not that other people do, though they probably do.  But the ironic thing is that rude is often more honest than polite.

4. Speaking of honest, every now and then I encounter a person who gives me the sense that they are able to read my mind.  It’s weird, I know.  Either I sense they can, or I start to imagine, ‘what if they can?’  The moment I think someone can read my mind, or I get into a strange thought process about the possibility, I begin to think tons of horrible things uncontrollably in this psychotic mental vomit, then I think in my mind for them to hear, ‘I’m sorry, I don’t really think like that.’

5.  Speaking about how I think, I’ve been realizing how shy I am, more and more, ever since I’ve quit all the substances that disguised my shyness.  For example, there are times when I’ m out alone in a kind of social environment, not public when being alone is awesome, but being in a situation when there are a lot of people around for an occasion and I don’t really know anyone or I don’t know them very well, such as if I were to go to Emma’s graduation/going away party.  I don’t really want to converse with anyone, I feel shy, but then I feel awkward if I’m just sitting there, and it’s social, so I can’t have a book or a notebook, that would just lend to the premise of my antisocialism.  Instead I just sit there staring off trying to be invisible so I don’t appear purposefully antisocial or the least bit lonely, which I never am lonely, just shy.  I try to do something with my hands but I don’t want to break out my cell and fall into that texting thing I was bitching about, the habits my generation is trapped in, the general inability to cope without technology.  And of course I text, but I only have a cell because it’s my phone and I carry it for emergencies, but I text because people text me or because I’m making plans and I’d rather text to make plans than talk on the phone because on the phone I have nothing to say because I am shy and private.

And yeah, there are themes running through all those random things, as well as my bit about Iona, but why should I have to explain or make it obvious.  Shut up Invisible Journal Reading People.  And random is itself a theme for me, which is an oxymoron pretty much, as my theme songs suggests, although it helps that I’m Italian, but it is also subtly relevant.  It’s “Shaddap You Face” by Joe Dolce.

Shut the fuck up Donny.



previous Grimm 184: Future Potential Domesticisms & Hating Love

next Grimm 186: Bogart, Men-Haters, Sensuality, & Other Stuff

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: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 15 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 184: Future Potential Domesticisms & Hating Love

May 7, 2014


I went to see Bogart on Saturday and he told me that he might be getting out in maybe a month, so at this point, I’m not sure what that means in terms of how I might be involved in his life, if I am at all.  I just know that Howard and Daisy found a place to move and their house is on the market, so I’ve been looking around for a new place.  I have no idea what kind of place to look for though.  I have many possibilities.  My name is Wall Grimm, and these are my options:


1. Move to Spain with Emma or Emma stays around here after I woo her with my song and we live together.  Probably not happening.

2. I find a place with Cola.  Most likely situation.

3. Maybe we will rent a big house where Pete and Sweetheart will move in as well.  Must have a large bedroom for me where I can barricade myself.

4. In any of the above situations, it is possible that Bogart might be involved somehow.  Disconcerting prospect.  The guy’s great, but what would it be like living with him when I’m not myself mentally unstable.

5. My ideal situation would be living alone.

No matter what, I don’t want to sleep on the floor or the couch anymore.  Every time I have a place, I end up on the couch after giving someone else my room.  And that’s never temporary.  My room becomes their room.  So I’m liking the house idea.  I’m just looking around for various places–apartments, townhouses, houses, even studios in case I do get to live alone.  I figure when I encounter the right place it will be obvious.  The optimistic fragment in me also doesn’t want to commit to anything until after I serenade Emma.  However, after Saturday night and a conversation I had with Iona, the reality of it has been hard to accept.  Well, not really, I guess it’s just something I’ve known all along.  But I’ll talk about that later.

Saturday night John had a semi-dry party which means people only were supposed to drink beer and wine and the evening was not supposed to end up in any kind of Romanesque drunken debauchery.  It didn’t, and since I was drinking O’Doul’s, it wasn’t too difficult to stay clean.  Even after my relapse.  This is because hard liquor tempts me the most.  Well, I’m kind of lying.  It was difficult, but not impossible, because I did it.

My friends all liked Cola, and when she finally was able to put names to faces after reading my journals she said she assumed all my friends were white.  I guess I never described anyone physically much.  Most of them are white, though I prefer to describe them by their nationalities.  But those who stand out as non-white are:  Jay who is black, his family originally comes from Belize.  Ayla is half Puerto Rican, half Irish, which is a bizarre mix that you can probably only find around Boston.  And Danika’s parents were actually born in Haiti, but Danika was born in Boston.  Emma, which I’ve state before is 1/4 black from Zimbabwe, 1/4 Italian, and 1/2 Columbian.  Otherwise the nationalities are Irish, English, Italian, French, and a variety of European concoctions, not simply white.  On forms when I have to put my ethnicity, I don’t usually put white.  I check other.  And if they give me a space to write it in, I write “Siciliani Romani” or just “Sicilian” depending on my mood.  Cola often blatantly comes out with these kinds of observations.  I like that that about her.  C-O-L-A Cola.

Anyway, I was outside smoking a cigarette around some other people.  Yeah I’m smoking again, but not as much.  The relapse did it.  And it’s harder to stay clean when you don’t smoke, but I’ll get there.  But I was smoking and a girl approached me and she said, “hey Grimm!”

I said, “hey” without knowing who she was.

She started gabbing on and on and then stopped to say, “you don’t even know who I am, do you?”

I said, sorry, no, I don’t remember you.  Then she slapped me wicked hard, called me an asshole, and stormed off.  Ayla said she thinks she remembers that I hooked up with her one night.  Back in the days of drunken yore probably because, damn, she was hot, how could I have forgotten getting some of that?  Ayla said she loves to see me get slapped, it’s kind of a turn on for her.  “uhh thanks?”  Then she discretely offered me a blow job, so we went off into John’s room, but I decided I didn’t want one, I wanted sex.  I wanted my naked body up against the naked body of a woman.  I get laid so much less now that I don’t go out to clubs and I’m not drinking and drugging so I guess I’m shyer or less likely to approach a girl.  And I’m in general less often in social situations like this.

When we left the bedroom, it was obvious what we did, at least to Iona who had a hurt look on her face.  I felt bad even though we don’t have a relationship so I went over to her.  She came outside with me so I could smoke.  We went to the front where no one was hanging out.  At first we were quiet, then she started talking.  She said that she didn’t want to be mean, but she was just thinking about how much I love Emma, and she brought up my plan to perform at the bookstore and sing a song I wrote for her.  Apparently I confided this to Iona when I stayed with her while I was relapsing, but she won’t tell anyone.  She said she didn’t want to be mean and she didn’t want to hurt me but she was thinking that Emma couldn’t possibly love me like I love her or in any way that I’d want her to.  If she did, then I wouldn’t have to pursue her so much.  Iona said that my feelings for Emma are obvious, even to Emma, and that any woman who loves a guy would not play so hard to get.

I tried to rationalize by saying that Emma is different, she’s level headed and she has goals, and she won’t let anything stand in the way of her goals.  But I didn’t believe what I was saying.  Iona told me that maybe it’s good I’m doing the performance since it will enable me to move on after, and I should prepare myself for that.  If Iona wasn’t such a nice person I’d think she was being a bitch.  But I had to focus on her intentions.  Essentially she doesn’t want to see me hurt.  She loves me like I love Emma.  I tried to kiss her then, because it felt like a moment to do that, but she turned away and reminded me I had just been with Ayla, that’s rude and disgusting.  I said sorry and decided then that I wanted to go home before I’d start drinking.  I didn’t mean to offend or hurt Iona.  So I told her to tell Cola that I was going and I walked away.

Ten minutes later, Iona pulls up beside me in her car with Cola in the passenger seat.  I got in since I was contemplating going to the liquor store.  We went to Denny’s to eat and stayed for a couple hours.  I didn’t say much but they talked, and I was just glad to be there and not out getting drunk or anything.  I don’t know, I’m beginning to hate love, it just seems to cause pain in every way that it exists.

Theme song: “These Eyes” by The Guess Who, because when you’re hurt because of love, whether it’s unreciprocated, used, ended, denied, abused, or lost even in cases of death, it’s a betrayal in any number of interpretations.


previous Grimm 183: Grimm the Abstract Gypsy Caballero Personal Protagonist

next Grimm 185: Iona, the Theme of Random, & Psychotic Mental Vomit

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” 183: Grimm the Abstract Gypsy Caballero Personal Protagonist

May 3, 2014


Emma graduates on May 15th and she is planning to leave for Spain on June 1st.  I just got an invitation to a graduation/going away party for her, which was sent to my parents’ house because Emma’s parents don’t know my address at Howard’s.  The party is on Saturday the 24th.  That only leaves me with the weekend before or the weekend after, which is the weekend she’s leaving, to plan some way to get her to Charlotte’s Web to see The Convoy, so I can perform the song I wrote for her, and….

….she will instantly fall in love with me and alter all her life plans to be with me.  wtf.  Is that what I’m really expecting?  Seriously?  I don’t know what I was thinking.  I’m so fucking stupid.  But Sharly is encouraging.  She gave us May 17th to perform and she said that Emma would probably enjoy coming because she’s never seen me play in the band before, no one has really.  I’ve hid it from mostly everyone.  I’m not even sure if Pete knows, I don’t remember, but I think I hid it from him and Sweetheart.  They only know I play the harp.  Sharly knows, and Cola knows everything since she read my journals, except for the one I’m currently writing in that she keeps asking to read.  She tells me it’s like a suspense novel she isn’t allowed to finish.  I just say it’s good my life is suspenseful to her, because it’s kind of suspenseful to me too.

Anyway, so we got the 17th, but first I need to confirm Emma is available that day.  There may be other parties she’s going to for either graduate or undergraduate commencement, which is that morning.  Anyway, I’ve got some planning to do, and I’m feeling kind of anxious about it.  Anxious in a bad way, kinda debilitating, because it seems too much for nothing.  I believe now ultimately that I will be doing all this for nothing, and I will gain nothing but humiliation after I am essentially rejected blatantly, openly, publicly, and all my devastation will be obvious and exposed to everyone I know.  What the fuck was I thinking.  I just thought that she was leaving in the Summer.  I was under the impression that it would be the end of Summer, but the soonest would be early July.  I can’t back out now.

And onto other things…

Cola has been coming to work with me and Sharly doesn’t mind because Cola will give Sharly some artistic suggestions about displays, décor, and the arrangement of various sections.  She also helps Sharly with paperwork and offers herself to do anything Sharly needs.  All without pay.  Sharly has offered to officially hire her or give her a stipend, but Cola said no.  Cola said, “Wall Grimm supports me.”  This made Sharly curious, but it also impressed her.

Cola doesn’t help me with my own work because I need to be completely capable of performing my job, going above and beyond myself, whenever possible.  There was a lapse in everything I was striving towards there after Valentina died, but I’m working with Sharly once again to become manager.  I had just wanted it to be after this first semester back at school, to see if I could handle long hours and school work.  Now I know I can.  I wasn’t sure at first since I went directly from the psych ward to the college campus.  I didn’t expect as smooth of a transition as it turned out to be.  It helps that I haven’t hung out much with friends, I’ve isolated myself in many ways.  But in positive ways.  Being around friends only makes me want to drink and drug.

Speaking of drinking, Cola asked me what triggered my recent relapse.  She was like, “was it because of Uncle Dan?”  Now, keep in mind, Invisible Journal Reading People, that she hasn’t read this current journal so she has no idea I punched him in the face or anything I said about that.

I was like, “why the fuck would it be because of him, why the fuck are you asking me that?”

She reminded me, yet again, that I shouldn’t talk to a lady that way, but then went on to say that my double use of the F word and my tone of voice exhibited defensiveness, proving her conclusion to be true.  She said she knew I was going to a family gathering, then I relapsed.

I said, “How do you know it wasn’t about Valentina?  My first family holiday since I skipped Christmas.”

“That could have contributed to it, Wall Grimm, but you were prepared for that.  When you’re prepared you prevail.  When you’re caught off guard, you go haywire.”

“Yeah, you got me all figured out.  Like I’m so weak I can’t deal with adversity.  Fuck off.  Look, I don’t give a shit about how you feel about my language because you’re fucking pissing me off.  Stop fucking prying.”

“I’m going to pry.  I’m invested in you now.  You’re my living character.  My personal protagonist.  My gypsy caballero.”

“You make me sound cooler than I am.”

“You are cooler than you are.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Neither do I.  Learn to live with it.”

Then we moved off the subject.  But she’s manipulative like that.  Not manipulative in a devious way, just triggered by her curious investigation.  She asks me questions and she gets the answers without my giving them to her.  She figures out the truth based on my reactions.  I’m able to do that myself with other people because of my intuition, psychological perspective, my psychicisms.  But I’m beginning to think I’m too much of an open book.  I thought I was quiet and aloof.  But my passionate responses give me away.  It used to be disguised by my being drunk or drugged.  Now it can’t be blamed on anything but genuine reaction.  However, as obvious as I am, I’m not sure how many people perceive it.  I think it’s just Cola.  Maybe Sharly, Pete, and my parents.  I think those are the only people because everyone else I tend to avoid when I’ve got shit going on or I’m not up to concealing what’s going on internally.  And there are reasons these people would know.  My parents just know me, no explanation necessary.  I’ve had to answer to Pete as his roommate, and to Sharly as her employee.  That involved either ditching them and neglecting my responsibilities in order to avoid them when I wasn’t up to being around people, essentially exposing weaker parts of myself, or their actually witnessing me at my worst moments at times when I couldn’t avoid them.  And Cola read my journals.  But she’s C-O-L-A Cola, and pretty insightful.  I think living with me in such close quarters would have eventually revealed parts of me I’d prefer to hide.  But there’s no way she would ever have known as much or have the basis to explore.

Speaking of close quarters, it’s a shame Howard is going to move out of his house, but it’s good that I will need to find a new place, because I’m beginning to need some space.  I was thriving on time alone, which I have very little of now.  In that way, it’s a positive that Cola read my journals because I don’t have to explain anything to her.  As I’ve said before, she’s kind of like my living journal, and apparently for her, I’m a living character.  It’s a very abstract, surreal way to view our friendship.  But then again, our friendship is, in itself, abstract and surreal.  I told Cola this and her response was, “That’s brilliant.  I want to be surreal, you can be abstract.”  And despite what she says, she does make sense.

My theme song is kind of irrelevant to this journal entry so it’s more of a themeless song.  It’s “Turtle Blues” by Janis Joplin, because I’m in the need for some decent blues, but at the same time Janis reminds me of my character Mama.


previous Grimm 181: The Tale of Jean Nicolas Valiquette

next Grimm 184: Future Potential Domesticisms & Hating Love

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: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 16 Comments

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