Monthly Archives: December 2014

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 222: Ladies Past & Dignified Grimm, the Kind of Guy to Laugh At

December 29, 2014

Well this has been the week of ladies past.  I heard from people who seemed to come out of nowhere to send me holiday greetings.

I’m not sure how some of these people got my address but I received cards from Flower and Bob, Lauren, Megan, Shannon, Snow White, and Sweetheart.

Flower and Bob are still living in the old apartment and they wrote that they want me to move back because the person upstairs from them is annoying.  I guess they miss me because I was less annoying, which is hard to believe.

Sweetheart sent a card created from paper she made from some kind of vegetation, and wrote a lot of spiritual blessings on it, with no mention of Valentina.  There was no return address, but it was postmarked from Arizona, which confirms my suspicions that she’s on the Native American reservation.

Lauren’s card said that she was going to be 18 in a couple of months and would I like to get together with her.  Kinda freaky and weird, but I did send a card back which said that yeah we can go somewhere for a cup of coffee or something, but I casually indicated I have a girlfriend.

Megan, aka the drunken maiden, sent me a card which apologized about her parents, her behavior, and thanked me for being a gentleman.

Shannon, aka tits, wants to get together sometime, but I have no intention of responding to her.  First, because she’s kind of a manipulative bitch.  Second, because she’s too hot and I’m too horny and I have no temptations whatsoever to cheat on Solenne but I’m afraid I might explode.

Snow White said she’d still like to come up to Boston and visit.  We’ve texted on and off and she knows I have a girlfriend.  She’s a nice girl so I know it would only be as friends that we’d hang out, so maybe we’ll plan something.  She also welcomed me to visit her in Florida, she’d get me passes for Disney World, and she said I could bring Solenne.

Then other than the people I see every day or most days, I saw Iona, Paula, Olivia, and Emma.

Iona, Olivia the avant garde perverted kidnapping crazy photographer, and Paula are stories for another time.  For now, I’d like to focus the rest of this journal entry on Emma.

On Christmas, Pete went to his parents’, Cola went to her parents’, and Bogart went to his mother’s (which is also a story in and of itself).  I went to my parents and I brought Solenne.  As usual, there’s a lot of family there during the holidays.  Uncle Dan was there.  I tried to ignore him and he was tentative around me since I think it was Easter when I punched him in the face.  For good reason, but I’m not going to get into that now.  Again, the tension of his presence is a whole other story.

Anyway, I wasn’t expecting Emma, I guess she communicated with my mother and wanted to surprise me.  I haven’t heard from her since she left.  I figured she was busy or maybe resentful since I rejected her attempt to use me for sexual experience so she could be ready for the guys in Spain.  She had returned home for a couple weeks over the holiday and arrived at my parents’ house Christmas night.  It was a record breaking warm night, raining on and off, and when Emma arrived, Solenne and I were standing outside on the back patio.  Emma went in through the front door, I guess, and was directed out to where we were.  When she walked out, Solenne and I were kissing.

I sensed someone there, stopped and looked to see Emma with a combination of shock and embarrassment smeared across her face.  She said, “I’m sorry,” and took off back inside.

It was weird but when I saw her, it almost felt to me as if I had been cheating on her or something.  I felt guilty as if I had been deceptive.  I’ve been wicked into Solenne, pretty much had forgotten about Emma.  Mostly I think because I was finally able to let go of the dream.  But when I saw her, I got so confused.  Then her reaction to my kissing Solenne was perplexing.  Emma’s feelings about me have never been clear, except before I revealed how I felt about her.  Before that, we were just best friends.  Once she knew I was in love with her, things got really complicated.  She’s rejected me numerous times, and other times confused me with her motivations.  It was painful, but still a relief, when she left for Spain and I finally resolved myself to let her go.

After she ran back into the house, I called to her.  Then I said to Solenne, “excuse me,” and I went in after her.  I felt like I wanted to be alone with her just to be able to talk without the awkwardness of our history making Solenne uncomfortable, but I didn’t want to be rude or disrespectful to Solenne.  I’m with her now, so she needs to be my priority.  She actually tells me what she wants and how she feels, not like Emma who plays games.  I don’t believe that Emma ever intentionally played games.  I think she was just conflicted and unsure because she had big life plans and I was an unexpected opportunity/obstacle/temptation/disruption…

…whatever.  I understand that, but I moved on.

When I got to her in the house, I took her by the arm.  She turned and said she was sorry and that she should have told me she was coming.  I said, “no, it’s a surprise.”  Which is a polite way of saying, ‘you made my heart drop when I saw you, I’m still in love with you, and I’m about to pass out because all the blood in my head went to my dick which was already hard enough.’  Then the fleeting last thought, ‘you fucking bitch, don’t distract me from Solenne, I’m happy now.’

Anyway, I took her out to meet Solenne and they got along well, though I never saw Emma exhibit such insecurity before.  They spoke some French, which sucked because I didn’t understand much at all, and I knew they were talking about me, and I never found out what they were saying except Solenne later told me it was all “nice things, and some funny things.”

Yeah there’s a lot of reasons to laugh at me.  I’m just that kind of guy.

The evening progressed and we all had a good time.  I had a guilty satisfaction that Emma seemed hurt and jealous, and a little disoriented that I wasn’t internally pining for her but was rather obviously devoted to Solenne.  I don’t ever want to see Emma hurt, of course.  It just made me feel good about myself that I could show her that I’m a man who can move on with dignity, and not a hopeless brokenhearted boy clinging to a fantasy.

Emma left before we did, and it was sad to see her go.  That was the moment when I realized how much I missed her, and would continue to miss her, and how intensely she causes my heart to beat.

No theme song today, because the silence is a reflection of the part of me that will forever be empty without Emma.


previous Grimm 221: Nothing Else is Salsa

next Grimm 223: Iona, Olivia, & Paula


For a list with links to all the previous journal entries go to:

Check out the Character Directory Pages to learn about characters mentioned in each post.

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 211-235 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 22 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 221: Nothing Else is Salsa

December 24, 2014


It is time now for the saga of being enstoned with Astrid to come to an end.  These are the things I have yet to describe:

1. Astrid making up words insisting they’re in the dictionary with me puppet show two asses hiding or thinking so from behind couch what was she thinking Astrid didn’t know we were seen but I did daughter said her name is Shayte spelled s h a y t e but that was my mistake she really said Shaye

2. Salsa sauce

3. Elf on a shelf

4. Tin foil wrapped around itself with a sock on its head and a joint

All right, well the first part is self-explanatory.  Astrid was making up words which were clearly not words, but she insisted they were and told us to look in the dictionary, which we didn’t bother doing.  We weren’t even curious to find out if maybe we were wrong, because those words were definitely not real.  I wish I could remember the words but they were multisyllabic.

The one about her daughter’s name is also obvious.  I had known her name was Shaye, though asked her how to spell it.  I thought she said, “Shayte, spelled s h a y t e.”  But she really said “Shaye, spelled s h a y e.”  The interesting thing about that is, since it’s a monosyllabic name (speaking of syllables) it’s easy to see how I might misunderstand her saying her name was Shayte as opposed to Shaye, but in her spelling, how did I hear her throw in a ‘t’?

That’s weird.

My subconscious filled in the letter I guess, since I was thinking she was creatively altering her name to be a variant pronunciation of the word shit, or shite.  I don’t know why.  Hey, I was stoned what can I say.

Salsa sauce is just something that I was teasing Astrid about.  She was asking if I had any snacks to bring down because she got the munchies.  She asked if I had tortilla chips and salsa sauce.  I had never heard anyone call it salsa sauce before.  I was like, that’s fucking redundant.  Salsa just is.  The word salsa defines itself, nothing else is salsa.  You don’t need to include the word sauce.  Like rice pilaf basically means rice rice and shrimp scampi means shrimp shrimp.  You don’t say spaghetti pasta or squid calamari or bagel bread.  But I still don’t think I was able to convince her that all she needs to say is salsa.

The puppet show.  Here is when things get ridiculous.  My name is Wall Grimm and I was forced to do a puppet show.


After one of Shaye’s friends left, she went upstairs to her room with her other friend that had arrived, Zack.  Astrid wanted to mess with them somehow, and mentioned something about puppets talking to them at their door.  My first thought was that we should do a puppet show, we’d hide behind the couch and when they’d come downstairs they’d only see the puppets which would be…I guess putting on a show for them.  My second thought was, “don’t fucking say this idea aloud.”  But the next thing I did was say it aloud.  Apparently I don’t even listen to me when I’m stoned, but at least I understand myself.

It was a joke idea, I didn’t mean for it to actually happen.  Yet Astrid thought it was a great idea and got all excited about doing it and forced me to do it.  I say forced because she can be very persistent.  Also, when she gets excited about something, it’s difficult to say no, since she’s the kind of person you want to make happy.  Plus, I was high, so…yeah.

Her enthusiasm dominated my reluctance.

We put socks on our hands and got behind the couch in child’s pose, which is a yoga name for kneeling down with your ass on your feet, your abdomen and chest down over your thighs and knees, and your face to the floor.  If Shaye and her friend would’ve come to the bottom of the stairs, they wouldn’t have seen us, but we would’ve raised our hands and put on a glorious show.  Not really glorious, but how else do you describe a puppet show?

Astrid was calling Shaye down, who wasn’t responding at first but then she came down to get something from the kitchen.  The dining area of the kitchen and the living room is one large room separated only by the line between carpet and flooring.  Once Shaye went into the kitchen, she could see us, our ass ends.  I knew she could see us, but Astrid was convinced she couldn’t and remained tucked down.  I followed her lead and remained that way too, unsure of what to do next.  Yeah it was my idea to do a puppet show, but I didn’t want to do it, and I had no plan as to how to execute it, or how to accommodate for mishaps with ‘the show must go on’ mentality.  So I stayed tucked down, and Shaye was directly behind us in the dining area.  And since I was behind Astrid, my face was pretty much in Astrid’s ass.  Shaye was like, “what the fuck are you guys doing?”  We didn’t respond, we just continued to pretend we weren’t there and remained ‘hidden’.

Then Shaye went back upstairs.  Astrid wasn’t ready to give up and shouted up for Zack.  He comes down and stands at the bottom of the stairs and Astrid’s puppet comes to life and begins talking.  I was confused and amused and horrified.  I have no clue what her puppet was saying, but she was like “come on, Grimm” so I raised my hand up with my puppet sock.  My puppet looked pretty cool though, I have to say.  It was one of those slipper type socks with the rubbery circle things on the bottom to prevent slipping.  I had those circles on the top of my hand so it looked like my puppet had like 12 eyes.  I was impressed with myself.

Anyway, I raised my puppet, but he got stage fright and couldn’t speak.  Astrid said, “say hi to Zack.”  I paused for a moment before saying, “hi Zack” in a stupid puppet voice, and then I was done.  I laughed quietly out of embarrassment.  Meanwhile, my hand dropped, in effect causing my puppet to hang his head low in shame.

Zack politely said hi to my puppet.  He stood there smiling unsure of what to do or how to respond.  I got up on my knees and said, “she made me do it.”

Astrid told him he could go back upstairs.  He laughed and said ok and was gone.


Ok, and the last thing about this evening that I have to describe and then I’m done is the tin foil wrapped around itself with a sock on its head and a joint.  I bought the tin foil for Shaye as a joke Christmas gift because she’s always looking for some, of course to fashion into homemade paraphernalia, implements of pot smoking.  Astrid decided she wanted to do the Elf on a Shelf thing with Shaye because they’d never done that, and somehow we decided to do it with the tin foil.  We wrapped the tin foil around itself.  We gave it a sock hat.  I made a cone shaped nose out of wrapping paper.  Astrid put tin fringe hair on it and eyes.  I rolled a mini joint from the papers Shaye discarded after her failed attempts to roll a proper joint.  I burnt the end of it to give it the effect of being lit.

And this was our masterpiece:


We wanted to come up with a name for it and decided it looked like Bob Marley.  We came up with tons of names but none of them were suitable.

I said Bob Aluminarley or Alumarley.  Since Astrid’s obsessed with the Illuminati for some reason, she said, Bob Aluminati.

Finally, I decided on Tin Marley, though I’m not sure if she’s aware of that.  I was trying to think of a way to say it like Elf on a Shelf and thought of Tin Marley on the Scene or Tin Marley in the House.

Tin Marley in da house.

Don’t worry about a tin, ’cause every little tin’s gonna be all right.

I don’t plan on getting high again anytime too soon.

All right, and since it’s Christmas Eve, my theme song for this journal entry is not going to be anything by Bob Marley, but my two favorite Christmas songs.  “Merry XMas (War is Over)” by John Lennon, and “The Little Drummer Boy”, the Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band version.  Merry Christmas Invisible Journal Reading People.


previous Grimm 220: This Journal Entry Has a Title

next Grimm 222: Ladies Past & Dignified Grimm, The Kind of Guy to Laugh At

For a list with links to all the previous journal entries go to:

Check out the Character Directory Pages to learn about characters mentioned in each post.


Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 211-235 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | 28 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 220: This Journal Entry Has a Title

December 20, 2014

I forgot to title my last journal entry.  I guess I killed another brain cell.  I mourn thee.

…a moment of silence…

…interrupted by Bogart entering the room and farting really loud, then laughing “bwahahahahahahahaaa ‘at were like a bloody earfquake in me pants!”  Pants meaning his underwear because that’s what he calls them.  Then he leaves the room, and I have no idea why he came in here, except maybe to fart.  Thanks for sharing, Bogart.

Ok now I’m in my room.  I had to leave the kitchen.  Even though I couldn’t smell anything, I was having an issue with breathing the air with which the fart comingled.   And I’m ready now to finish the story about getting stoned with Astrid.  And…here it is:

I’ll begin with why Astrid and I smoked.  Why did Astrid smoke with her daughter Shaye?  Well that’s an extremely long story so I’ll make it semi-brief.  They have a complicated history filled with struggles, obstacles, suffering, hurt, anger, and a battle to somehow live peacefully together.  My reasons behind Astrid smoking with her are general, vague, and they don’t go as deep as I should really get into, but simply put, Astrid first was curious to see if smoking pot would help with her back pain, since she could get prescribed medical marijuana if she felt it would work.  There was also a part of her, I believe, that was hoping the experience would help her bond with her daughter.  She knows her daughter smokes, and she often feels like a bad mother for allowing it, but at the same time, she understands that smoking helps Shaye.  It calms both her anger and her energy, both of which are cyclonic.  She’s an intense girl with a lot of talent, sensitivity, and brilliance that she is capable of bringing into the world once she is able to tap into it effectively.  Her anger is essentially an enormous force of emotion and passion which, once channeled into something positive, she will be able to accomplish anything she wants in life.  Plus, she’s pretty funny when she’s high, like when she gets embarrassed she’ll go stand in the corner and laugh quietly.  I don’t even think she realizes she does that, until we point it out, “is Shaye hiding in the corner again?”  Then she laughs more.

Anyway, why did I smoke?  Many reasons: stress, end of semester release, I needed some calm myself after being around Bogart so much, sexual frustration since I’ve been with Solenne, and I quit smoking cigarettes so I’ve been on edge a lot.  In fact, I was being a dick at one point and Cola said to me, “I like it when you used to smoke.  You’re an asshole now.  And you looked cool when you were smoking, too.”

I was like, “That’s the worst thing you ever said to me.”  But that’s just her facetious and ironic wit so I wasn’t pissed off or anything.

Once I was stoned, I did not want to go back up to the roomies.  I couldn’t even imagine being around Bogart while I’m stoned.  I’d be afraid that the voices he hears when he’s not on medication would jump into my head.  I’d think that since he’s on meds, the voices are hovering about him constantly waiting for that moment when they can break through to his mind.  But when I’d enter the room stoned, they’d get all excited about the open doorway to my head that they’d jump in and….well I wouldn’t want to be in Bogart’s mind, and I wouldn’t want his mind in mine.

I also didn’t want to face Cola and Pete, they would know I was stoned, especially Pete who has seen me wrecked more than anyone else.

Then of course I wouldn’t want to be around Gary Oldman II.  For some reason, cats make me paranoid when I’m stoned.  People don’t, but cats do.  Cats just freakin’ stare at you and it’s like they know everything about you, everything that’s going through your mind, like they’re some kind of higher beings who are capable of judgment against you, and your punishment is an inner shame that they inflict upon you as they stare and it feels like they’re stealing your soul.  The worst part is when they look at you and pity you because you’re just a stupid human who has disappointed them once again.  That’s how Gary Oldman II would feel about it, since her job is to help me stay clean and safe.  She’d be furious with me.

I still have a lot to say about that night, but I don’t think I’ll be writing it in this journal entry after all.  I accidentally lied.  I accidentally got stoned and I accidentally lied.  I’m inadvertently misbehaving, look out.  Grimm the Unconscious Rebel.

Other words to describe it:

Grimm the ________ Rebel (fill in the blank with):

autogenic, knee-jerk, begrudging, compulsory, half-baked (of course), uncalculated, habitual, wooden (?), deep-seated (did they mean deep-seeded?), flaky (nope), devil-may-care (I like this one), by the seat of his pants (deep-seated?), fault-less, adorable (that was included in the synonyms for “innocent” so I had to include it here as well as a few others), godly, radiant, rapturous, otherworldly, chaste (yes now that I’m with Solenne), fluky (wormy?), wanton (yeah I am), odd (Grimm the Odd Rebel? uh, no), pointless (as in without a cause, maybe?), fits and starts (what?), and I’ll end with casual.  Grimm the Casual Rebel.  I kind of like the sound of that.

Anyway, I guess I’ll end it here and recommence the story another time.  I’ll just say that Astrid forced me to put on a puppet show, even though my puppet was mute.  Is that a metaphor?  Well, Invisible Journal Reading People, you have to be patient, you will know in due time.

My theme song for this journal entry is “Stray Cat Strut” by the Stray Cats because, well…all that shit I said about cats, plus I like the Stray Cats.  They’re an amazing cross between 50’s and 80’s music and style, a one of a kind band.



previous Grimm 219: (untitled)

next Grimm 221: Nothing Else is Salsa

For a list with links to all the previous journal entries go to:

Check out the Character Directory Pages to learn about characters mentioned in each post.


Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 211-235 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 36 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 219:

December 18, 2014

Last night, I accidentally got stoned with Astrid.  To say it was accidental may seem to make no sense, but it’s true that I didn’t purposely intend to get as stoned as I did.  I’m just a layman now when it comes to smoking pot since I don’t do it anymore.  All it took was two hits, but it was good shit.  Anyway, let me set up the scene.  My name is Wall Grimm and here I share my tale of getting high by default, as opposed to my fault.


I went down to see Astrid to give her and her daughter their Christmas gifts early.  I haven’t mentioned her daughter yet, but I don’t see her much since she’s always with friends.  She’s 16 and her name is Shaye.  So I went down there and Astrid, Shaye, and a friend of Shaye’s were planning to get high.  (There needs to be some clarification as to why Astrid would smoke with her daughter, and why I caved and smoked since I’ve been so well abstained, but I’ll get into that in another journal entry).  Shaye was incapable of rolling a proper joint so she resolved herself to pack a bowl.  I could’ve done it, but I didn’t.  I’m stubborn like that.

Before I write anymore, I have to say that I wanted to be sure to tell the complete story, so I wrote notes in the memo of my phone.  I think I’ll show you the notes first and explain later:

1. Too humble to think of a better word than cool

2. The new boots are like people.  They’re outside they’re slippers.  They’re inside they’re boots.  Opposite that.

3. Astrid making up words insisting they’re in the dictionary with me puppet show two asses hiding or thinking so from behind couch what was she thinking Astrid didn’t know we were seen but I did daughter doesn’t flush toilet daughter high but once her friend got there she blamed it on us but first said we were awesome but changed it to annoying once she got caught she said her name is Shayte spelled s h a y t e but that was my mistake she really said Shaye

4. Salsa sauce

5. Elf on a shelf

6. Tin foil wrapped around itself with a sock on its head and a joint

7. Felt like Ron Swanson dancing

Ok, these notes need clarification.

I’ll start with the last one.  When I used to get high, I was real cool.  I was Ron Fucking Swanson:

ron swanson

After two hits, I became Ron Swanson on Snake Juice:


Yep.  That’s me.

I blame Astrid.

Allow me to translate the notes:

1.  Astrid said she probably wouldn’t remember anything, so I said that when she wakes up, she’ll only know this fact, “Grimm’s really cool when he’s high.”  Then she said when I’d wake up, I would think “Astrid’s really insightful when she’s high.”  Then she told me the word cool was lame and I had to think of a better word.  I said no, my vanity was only allowing me to extend so far as “cool”.  She said that I was too humble to think of a better word than cool.

2.  She has these boots that are like boots when you wear them outside, but they’re comfortable and like slippers when you wear them inside.  When I wrote the note about that I made a mistake and wrote it the opposite way.  I was too stoned to change it, so I followed up with “opposite that”.  But yeah, this is where she got insightful.  She said “like people”.  They change depending upon they’re environments.  This can be either a physical or psychological transition.  Or both.

3.  This note was a bunch of things mixed in.  I’ll explain the Shaye name confusion another time.  And I guess Shaye doesn’t flush the toilet.  Self explanatory.  Astrid just told me to write that in my notes, I don’t know why.  Then there was when Shaye’s other friend showed up.  She mumbled to him that we were high and said that Astrid and I were awesome.  Astrid said “what?”  Shaye said, “you’re annoying.”  Astrid and I looked at each other.  We knew the truth of it.  We knew we were in fact awesome and Shaye knew it too.  She was just wicked high and pinning it on us.  But as for the rest of this note…I think this deserves a journal entry all on its own, so I’m going to leave this for another day.

4, 5, and 6 will be included in that journal entry.

For now, let me get down to the essence of the experience of getting high last night with Astrid.

I was trying to be cool like I used to be, but Astrid was making me laugh.  I tried to be kinda quiet, which I prefer to be, but whenever I did try to talk, she’d go off on a different tangent.  Astrid has ADHD – Attention Deficit when High Disorder.  I was determined, however, to finish whatever I was saying before her diversions.  I’d have to trace back the conversation to where it started and try to figure out the point I was trying to make and how the commencement of it lead to where I ended up.  I should have just quit but I had to do it, if only to prove to myself that I was capable of rational, clear, and sequential thought, hence enforcing the solidity of my cognition.  The all powerful and functioning faculties of Grimm.  There’s an innuendo in there…

Anyway, the result was that what would be a five minute story turned into an epic tale, though I wished I could just stop talking.  But I had to finish the fucking story.  That’s all I wanted.  And in the end it actually was only five minutes that these moments of suspected verbosity lasted, because I frequently checked the time.  Time slowed down so it seemed like forever.

Then, as I was trying to explain something and she would go off with it, wandering around the house cleaning or something, she just couldn’t stop moving, and she wouldn’t stop talking, she’d just go off with what I said and then when she’d finally sit down she’d say, “oh I get it” and then explain to me what I meant.  I told her it was an interesting process to see her basically have a conversation with herself and work it all out until she made sense of it.  I was glad that I didn’t have to explain it to her, because then we’d just end up in one of those cycles again.

Last thing I have to say for now, and I’ll write more about the rest later, is that when I used to get stoned I was pretty quiet and serious.  But last night I couldn’t stop laughing.  And what follows is an observation I’ve made in the past when I’d stay quiet and watch and listen to the other stoned people in the room.  Last night I experienced it for myself.

There’s usually a couple people following everything more than everyone else.  One is the quiet one, like I used to be.  Ron Fucking Swanson.  The other is the one who can have spurts of verbosity but no matter what, just laughs a lot.  That was me last night.  Ron Swanson on Snake Juice.

When you’re laughing at people when they’re stoned, they think, because you’re laughing so much, that you’re stoned out of your mind and so they laugh at you, though they are likely more stoned since they didn’t even realize you were only laughing because of how stoned they are.  Or it could be opposite of that, and you don’t even realize it.  However, when I’m stoned, I’m always convinced I’m in a state of perfect acumen.  When I’m stoned, I’m super aware of what’s going on, but last night I felt like I had no control over my body, like I’d forget it exists since I was so enwrapped within my own mind.  I’d have to break out of my mind from time to time, and try to pay attention to what I was physically doing, since my body language is the culprit that would expose how high I truly am, when I’m experiencing presence of mind rather than presence of body.  Things I say make sense.  But because people don’t always follow what I’m saying, usually because they are too stoned, they assume I’m not making any sense, and my awkward physicality only validates that opinion.  Of course, one needs to be stoned in order to think this way.

But then, what I wrote above is a rough example of the kind of shit I say when I do speak, so who the hell can blame anyone else for not following me.

To be continued…

I have no theme song for this journal entry.  Instead, I’m going to take a moment of silence to reflect upon the teachings of Ron Fucking Swanson.



previous Grimm 218: Valentina, Internal Battles, and the Distraction of Jessica Lange

next Grimm 220: This Journal Entry Has a Title

This is the snake juice scene, with Ron Swanson dancing at the end:

For a list with links to all the previous journal entries go to:

Check out the Character Directory Pages to learn about characters mentioned in each post.


Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 211-235 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 218: Valentina, Internal Battles, and the Distraction of Jessica Lange

December 11, 2014


I need a vacation from people.  I used to like time to myself, and spent lots of time alone.  I’d take off and travel on sporadic, spontaneous, and random occasions.  But now I have three roommates, so I am never home alone.  I sometimes go in my room for solitude, but if Pete or Cola haven’t taken Bogart out, then he’s at my door all confused as to why I’m in there with the door closed.  He’s like a dog or a cat that way.  Something unusual throws off the routine and he gets all disoriented.

I lived alone for a while and when I was home I’d talk to myself.  I think people often talk to themselves, so it’s not a weird thing.  But here with three roommates, I find that at times when I would normally talk to myself, I catch it before I do it, so now I’m just mumbling an awful lot.  They say, what? what are you saying? what are you mumbling about?


I am Grimm the Mumbler.  Mumbling Grimm.  I used to be a Ramblin’ Man, but now I’m the Mumblin’ Guy.

I’m not complaining, just kind of expressing one aspect of my world that isn’t perfect.  Generally my life is good these days.  I’m busy which prevents me from thinking about things that might bring me down, like Valentina.  In that way, never being alone is probably a good thing.  External distractions are a manner by which I avoid internal destructions.

It was a year ago on November 29th that Valentina died.  I’ve been trying to ignore it, but everyone knows about it and they’ve got that concerned look in their eyes.  Except Bogart, of course, who is clueless, which is better than concerned.  No one has brought up the subject, I think they know I am avoiding the topic altogether.  I think about her every fucking day.  I think about how she would be growing, learning, developing new skills, and reaching milestones.  How she would look at me, smile, laugh, how it would feel to hold her, what she would smell like.  How my entire world would revolve around her and she would be my ultimate priority for the rest of my life.  How she would grow up and I’d have to beat up all her boyfriends and no one would ever be good enough for her.

I think of her every day, so I never expected that the anniversary of her death would be this intense.  This time last year I was in the institution.  Today is the anniversary of when Bogart arrived at the same institution and we met.  I had anticipated raising a little girl, but ended up “adopting” an insane man-puppy-dog.  The universe births strange designs.

Anyway, I’ve been struggling to avoid thoughts and discussions about Valentina, but it’s hard to contain.  That’s why I’m writing it here.  It’s too painful to keep to myself anymore, yet it would be even worse to talk to anyone about it.  I think if I did it could only be Pete.  He saw me at my worst and my weakest, so he knows, and I wouldn’t even need to say much.  But I can’t do that because I think I would just crumble and disintegrate.  Although being alone might set me off on a familiar path of self destruction, despite that I’ve accomplished so much and I have a lot of people relying on me, and my entire world now is set on a solid and dependable foundation.  Yet I feel myself needing to get away, to run away like I used to, to escape somehow.  This bothers me because my responsibilities are keeping me here, which means there are few choices in the way of how to escape.  As a result, I’m thinking about drugs and alcohol.  My abstinence had stabilized in terms of my ability to maintain it, and most times it was relatively easy.  Temptations were overcome by weighing out the consequences and affirming self-pride.  However, I’ve been feeling callous about all these positive things I’ve created in my life and in my self.  I’m beginning not to trust myself anymore, which is always disconcerting.  When you’re not able to trust yourself, then you are the least safe.

I guess it was bound to happen at some point, since I’ve been consistently less self absorbed, more reliable and mature, back to being the go-to-guy.  The go-to-mumblin’ guy.  A crash seems inevitable.  That’s not an excuse, because I’m going to keep fighting it.  I just had to let all that out.  And, I’m well aware that whatever I’m battling within myself would be far worse if I did relapse, because then I’d have to contend with negative thoughts pertaining to personal worth.

Distractions help a lot.  Things outside of me protect me from what’s inside.  Things like the people I need a vacation from, school, work, Blues Monday, or “Walking Dead” and “American Horror Story”.

Therefore, my theme song for this journal entry is “Gods and Monsters” by Lana Del Rey, but the Jessica Lange version.  Jessica Lange is captivating.  I can’t take my eyes off her when she’s on the screen, she’s so freakin’ beautiful and talented she drives me crazy and she’s 60 something years old, but I want her.  I want to make love to her, because you don’t “fuck” a lady like that, you make love to her.  I think this is Jessica Lange’s last season on “America Horror Story” which sucks, because I can’t imagine the show without her.  Anyway, I never heard of this song before I saw her sing it on the show, so I looked it up.  I’m picking it for my theme song because I think the lyrics are appropriate for what I’ve been going through lately.  There are some great lyrics that didn’t make it into the version for the show due to language.  I would’ve liked to hear Jessica Lange sing those lyrics though.  She’s so fucking hot.  I think I’m in love with her.  I’ve never even heard the original Lana Del Rey version, but as far as I’m concerned, the song only exists as sung by Jessica Lange.

And ummmm while I’m on the subject…..Jessica Lange, will you marry me?



previous Grimm: 217: A Sh*tload About A Lot of Sh*t

next Grimm 219: (untitled)

This is the scene from the show:

This is the iTunes version which has additional lyrics:

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Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 211-235 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 84 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 217: A Sh*tload About A Lot of Sh*t

December 6, 2014

I miss Gary Oldman.  So I’m going to do a Gary Oldmanism today.  But right now I’d like to list Astrid’s strange tendencies.  She didn’t play the game that night, but she’s got some tendencies worth documenting, so I’m going to do that here and now.


*She’s always talking about shit, as in bowel movements.  She talks about when she has to go, when she doesn’t have to go, what the consistency is, what the experience of going was like, and she will even want to have you come look at her accomplishment in the toilet.  She has IBS so it’s a huge part of her life that she will share freely.  I guess I’m getting to know her inside and out.

*She will eat Burger King and McDonald’s even though she’ll suffer for it later.  (see above)

*She drinks only one kind of wine, from a box.  She drinks it with an ice cube even though she keeps the box in the fridge.  She never finishes a glass, or cup, or mug (see tendency about dishes below).  Instead she sips and the ice cube melts and then she tops off the glass and adds another cube.  So as she’s walking around with a glass, or cup, or mug…it seems like she’s drinking a lot, but she isn’t really, especially since it’s watered down.  She never gets drunk or even buzzed.

*She doesn’t have many dishes, or glasses, or mugs, or silverware.  What she has is always in her sink.  She hates doing dishes.  I don’t blame her there.  She cleans them out when she wants to use them, and now and then she does everything that’s in the sink.  Sometimes I do them for her.  Now and then she’ll throw it all away just to empty the sink.  Somehow she accumulates more.  She doesn’t own any coffee mugs.  I bring her coffee every morning and she always returns the mug I bring the coffee in, mostly I think just to get it out of her sink.  Sometimes she uses it for a couple days to drink wine out of before she returns it.

*She likes a clean house though whenever she does housework, especially laundry, it hurts her back.  Her decorations are always symmetrical.  She’s an organized person yet somehow she loses everything.

*Her car however is a mess.  But I imagine it would be hard for her to clean it out, since bending and leaning like that would aggravate her back.  I should clean it out for her sometime.

*She is an extremely generous and kind hearted person occasionally to a fault.  Some people take advantage or deceive her.  She is often hurt by other people, trusting in the goodness of people, or caring about them too much to worry about the consequences of being so invested in helping them.

*When she paints her nails, it takes her an entire day, or days.  She constantly adds new coats, then when it’s not perfect, she takes it all off and starts over.  Then she complains for days after that it looks bad.

*She’s always running out of toilet paper.  (see shit tendency above)  I supply her with a roll about every other day.  When she buys toilet paper, for some reason she will only buy one roll at a time, instead of buying a whole package.  And though it’s an item she needs so much, she will often forget to buy it when she goes to the store.  I buy more toilet paper than we need, as I account for supplying some to Astrid.

There’s more, but I’m done with Astrid for now.  It’s time for a Gary Oldmanism.


Lord Gary Oldman said:

“There’s 99% crap across pretty much everything.  And then there’s that one plateau where I want to be.”

Ok, so that makes sense, but I’m going to analyze it a little.

The definition of crap is:

Shit as in excrement, the act of taking a shit.  Then there’s the bullshit aspect of it: nonsense, falsehood, exaggeration. Then I was intrigued by this next definition (because yes I looked up the definition of crap): propaganda.  And last but not least, it means trash or junk.

Then I had to look up the definition of propaganda, not because I didn’t know what it is, but in order to thoroughly apply meaning to my Gary Oldmanism.  According to, propaganda is:

“Information, ideas, or rumors deliberately spread widely to help or harm a person, group, movement, institution, nation, etc.”

According to, the definition of plateau is:

“A land area having a relatively level surface considerably raised above adjoining land on at least one side, and often cut by deep canyons.”  Which I’m sure is the definition he meant in a metaphorical sense.

He certainly did not mean: “A period or state of little or no growth or decline.”

Unless if that were the case, and crap were to mean propaganda, I could rephrase what he said and it would go something like this:

“There’s 99% of information which is deliberately intended to harm people across pretty much everything.  And then there’s that one period with no growth where I want to be.”  Which would mean he is self deprecating. (yes I mean deprecating, not defecating, this version of his statement has nothing to do with excrement)

 Or he could have said:

 “There’s 99% people shitting across pretty much everything.  And then there’s that one land area where I want to be.”  If he wanted to avoid getting shit all over himself, or maybe he’s talking about the land area where there’s the most shit and that’s why it’s elevated, if he had a fetish or something.

But obviously Lord Gary Oldman meant:

“There’s 99% bullshit across pretty much everything.  And then there’s that one place risen above all that where I want to be.”

Which is pretty cool.  I try to take my Gary Oldmanisms and apply them to my life, so we’re going with the latter one here, since it’s reflective of what I believe to be his intended meaning.  Lord Gary Oldman is right.  There’s so much fucking bullshit in the world, and I also want to be above all that.  Of course, it’s different for him being famous and having to deal with media and Hollywood and all that crap, shit, bullshit, junk, nonsense…  But for me, I feel I’ve done a pretty good job.  The hardest thing for me has been rising above my own bullshit.  I’ve bullshit myself, I’ve bullshit other people, my actions have at times stemmed from pure bullshit motivated by bullshit.  That’s a lot of bullshit.  I’ve had to grow up a lot.  I grew up very young, too young, but all that did was make me more immature, if that makes any sense.  I was more reckless, fearless, unconcerned about consequence, and self absorbed as a result.  I think if you’re forced to grow up early because of family and having to take on an adult role, you mature sooner.  But if you are forced to grow up as the result of trauma and circumstances beyond your control at a young age, then you just are sooner aware of the adult world and as a child you’re not equipped to handle it so you think you’re real mature, but you’re just kind of a dangerous monster, mostly to yourself, and you’re set on a path of one bad choice after another since you don’t really care about anything, because it all becomes bullshit.  So there’s that kind of bullshit to rise above too, which is more a matter of perspective.

And that’s all I have to say about that.

My theme song for this journal entry is “My Name is Mud” by Primus, because it seems oddly relevant and Astrid likes Primus, as do I.


previous Grimm 216: Bogart and Ashley

next Grimm 218: Valentina, Internal Battles, and the Distraction of Jessica Lange


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Check out the Character Directory Pages to learn about characters mentioned in each post.

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 211-235 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 32 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 216: Bogart and Ashley

December 4, 2014

It’s time to tell the Grimm tale of Bogart and Ashley.  Things were going fine, but largely based on sex.  Problems began as Ashley gradually realized that Bogart was not capable of taking her out on his own.  I had to play chauffeur/chaperone a lot of times.  Once, I took them to the movies and dropped them off, but waited outside in the parking lot.  I had given Bogart money so he could pay for tickets and get snacks.  This was a test to see how independent he could be.

Apparently, at one point during the movie, Bogart left the theatre to go to concession for more popcorn.  While he was getting popcorn, he decided to spend the rest of the money, which was meant for dinner afterwards, on candy.  He never returned to the theatre.  Who knows what he was doing, but she finally came out and he was playing a video game with a twelve-year-old.

She was annoyed and they came out early before the movie ended.  Good thing I was waiting in the parking lot.  She wanted to go home, and on the way to her house, I had to pull over for Bogart to puke since he ate so much candy.

There were a few instances like that, when she was beginning to feel like their time alone together, when not involving sex, was more like she was babysitting him, than dating him.

The last straw was when she was over to watch the 4th season of the “Walking Dead” with us, before the 5th began.  She hated that show, but I got the feeling she wanted to spend time with me rather than Bogart.  Bogart was getting the same feeling.

So we were watching the show and she was disgusted by the gore, but asking me lots of questions about the characters and plots and stuff.  “…Things…stuff…” (credit Rick Grimes).  Bogart was getting jealous and told her to go in his bedroom so they could have sex.  She said no, she’s watching the show.  He began to pace, very agitated, and got more insistent that she go in his room with him.  I knew he was feeling jealous so I didn’t want to defend her by telling him to leave her alone, since he could easily get into one of his delusional and paranoid states and I’d rather not turn him against me.  Pete felt the same way about it as he remained quiet.  But Cola, who Bogart actually does treat like a woman, even though he’s baffled that she’s physiologically a man, has a different rapport with him, and is kind of motherly to him.  She told him that a lady has the right to choose what she wants to do.

This stunted him briefly, but it was kinda too late, since his agitation already got him in an irreversible state.  He said, “no! she’s mine!” and he grabbed Ashley roughly by the arm, pulled her up off the couch to take her to his room.

That’s when it was time for me to step in, once he got physical with her like that.  So I broke her free from his grip and stood in front of her, facing him and said, “you can’t force her to do what she doesn’t want to do and you should never lay your hands on a woman like that,” trying to be as diplomatic as I could be.  But he lost it.

He walked away then paced for a second, then walked in circles, in this rage.  Meanwhile, Cola got Ashley and told her she was going to take her home.  Once they left, Bogart turned and punched me so hard, I flew off my feet, bounced off the coffee table and hit the floor.  He broke my nose and aggravated my already damaged brain from the Gangsta.  I was completely dazed.  Plus hitting the table like that hurt my back.

Bogart went in for more while I was on the ground, but Pete stepped in, even though Bogart terrifies him at times, and said, “Bogart, no one here ever wants to do anything to hurt you.  Ever.  We’re all on your side.”  This seemed to catch Bogart off guard.  It’s not something anyone has probably ever said to him in the past when he was raging.  He’s never raged on me or any of us, so it was brilliant that that’s what Pete came up with to say.  I’m sure in the past others might have said things like, “calm down, stop, don’t do that, he didn’t do anything wrong.”  Essentially those words would just be trying to control him, when he’s in an uncontrollable and irrational state, or they would be defending the other person he’s attacking, and that defense would feel to him like a personal attack.

Rather, what Pete said was just a statement of truth that Bogart could recognize and believe, so long as he wasn’t hearing any voices contradicting that.  But Pete’s words stunted him, confused him for a minute, then he stormed into his room and slammed the door.

Once Cola got back from driving Ashley home, Pete took me to the hospital just for x-rays but my back was ok, as was my brain which was what I was worried about.  I was just very dazed, with a broken nose but there’s nothing you can do about that except clean up the blood.  Bogart never came out of his room the few hours that I was at the ER.  But Cola had checked on him, speaking through the door to make sure he was ok.

When Pete and I returned home, Bogart must have heard us because he came out immediately.  He trotted out stating that Ashley was a “cow” and a “slag” anyway and that I’m a tough bastard but I looked like a “git” because of the bruising around my eyes and nose and the split across the bridge.  Then he wanted to watch the “zombie program” some more and basically behaved like nothing happened.

Ashley has never come back and he never mentions her, he only says he wishes he was still having sex and that he wants another girl to have sex with all the time.  He’s definitely not heartbroken.

And so that’s the story.  Bogart is not cruel or selfish.  He’s just kind of like a 2 year-old.  The world revolves around him, he applies “mine” to things he wants, people become obstacles when they get in his way and they’re no longer people to him, just walls to break down.  His medication seems to keep the voices and delusions away for the most part, or strengthens his ability to ignore them and separate them from himself.  But with the 2 year-old mentality and the delusions at work…well the combination can be dangerous.  But he’d never hurt someone out of cruelty, he’s not a sociopath, he’s just an innocent.  Which is why it’s good he trusts me, then he doesn’t get paranoid.  I don’t think he ever had to deal with jealousy over a girl or that possessiveness.  It’s something we all feel at times.  He just couldn’t handle it.

I didn’t get mad that he hit me, because I understood what he was going through, and I was just an obstacle and a cause as far as he was concerned.  So I didn’t feel mad, I felt bad.  Bad for Bogart.  But I also feel that in the end it was a good experience for him.  It was real life bull shit, real life emotions, shit he needs to experience in order to know how to exist in the world.  And we talked about it afterwards.  I try to address stuff when I know he’s in the right frame of mind to take in important subject matter.  I reiterated what Pete said, that none of us would ever do anything purposely to hurt him, but I also told him he needs to respect other people, mostly women, who seem to always be objects in his eyes.  Women to Bogart seem to be like some kind of foreign species he can’t figure out but that doesn’t matter to him anyway since he only wants to fuck them.  That’s kind of a pubescent mentality.  He’s a whole range of ages, none of which are mature.  But I’m not one to talk about maturity.

Anyway, my theme song for this journal entry is “Take Me to Church” by Hozier, just because it’s a fucking awesome song.


previous Grimm 215: Grimm’s HyperSynopsis and Apple Bottom, Served with Eggnog

next Grimm 217: A Sh*tload About A Lot of Sh*t


For a list with links to all the previous journal entries go to:

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Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 211-235 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 215: Grimm’s HyperSynopsis and Apple Bottom, Served with Eggnog

December 2, 2014

Ok here’s the speediest overview of everything that’s gone on since I stopped writing in my journal:


sex before getting the girlfriend, lack of sex after getting the girlfriend, need for sex, masturbation, girlfriends (me with Solenne and Bogart with Ashley), loss of girlfriend (Bogart), school, studying, homework, Blues Monday, work, “Walking Dead”, “American Horror Story”, Halloween, Bogart’s birthday (he is now 23), unusually hot weather, snow, Thanksgiving, I quit smoking, exercise, Pete got a boyfriend, “The Lego Movie”, singing “Everything is Awesome” nonstop for a week after seeing “The Lego Movie”, buying Bogart Legos after seeing the movie, ordering a Wubble Bubble Ball off the “tele”, causing household damage with the Wubble Bubble Ball, Wubble Bubble Ball explodes, getting sick (me and Cola), Hasty visited (as you know, journal, just adding it in for consistency), computer issues, discovering that Christopher Lee has a heavy metal band (he’s 90-fucking-2!), missing Gary Oldman, missing my journal (don’t get all sappy on me), Bogart recently completed a Peer to Peer class at NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness) which helped him learn strategies of living with mental illness, I attended the NAMI annual convention which helped me a lot with regards to supporting Bogart, this list is getting longer than I planned I’ll finish quickly: foliage, hiking, lack of sex, running, need for sex, daylight savings, masturbation, lack of sex (this lack includes hand jobs and blow jobs), lots of kissing, masturbation, blueballs, cold showers don’t help, I hate cold showers, perpetual erection, the need for sex, Wubble Bubble Ball explodes (there’s no connection between the need for sex and the Wubble Bubble Ball exploding, Invisible Journal Reading People have sick minds).

I guess that kind of sums things up a little.  I missed a few things, but whatever, I’ll get to important stuff eventually if I feel like it.

But yeah…getting back into the flow of it…here’s some more stuff with slightly more elaboration:

I’ve been aiming to get healthier so I decided to get a juicer figuring that would be a good thing to do or a way to get started, but I didn’t know where to find one.  I called Job Lot and asked the girl on the phone if they had juicers.  This was the conversation:

“Do you have juicers?”

“What kind of juicers?”

“…….The kind you put fruits and vegetables in and make juice.”

“No we don’t, but we have juice already made.”

(too baffled to respond or even laugh) “……ok, thanks.”

hang up


Ok so after procuring myself a juicer at Bed, Bath, and Beyond, I decided I needed new running shoes, so I went to Bob’s where I bought myself a pair with memory foam.  Putting those sneakers on is the closest thing I can get to sex these days.  They make me moan and go mmmmmm, man that feels so good.

Contrary to juicing, quitting smoking, running and exercising more, and making a bunch of other healthy choices, I decided that I love eggnog, which is kinda like liquid sex for me lately, and so I’ve been having it in everything.  Coffee, cereal, oatmeal, and other random stuff.

Speaking of lack of sex, Bogart hasn’t had sex since Ashley left him, which is another story for another time, and he’s been looking at me funny lately.  He’s not gay or bi but he accommodates for his own needs.  As he’s said in the past, if he were to close his eyes and do a “bloke” from behind without any extra touching, he wouldn’t know the difference.  I get the idea, but I’m never that desperate.  So one morning during breakfast, I’m in my bikini briefs as I often am while in my own apartment, toasting a muffin, a homemade eggnog muffin, and I get this creepy vibe so I turn to see Bogart with a warped glare in his eyes as he looks me up and down.

“Get that out of your fucking mind, Bogart.”

Cola, who was seated at the table said, “It’s always on my mind, Caballero, but you never stop me.”

“Well I didn’t know that, and you don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m more discrete, of course.  But you should know these things.  What about your psychicisms?”

“I tune them out with daily distractions.”

“You’re a daily distraction.”

Then Pete walked in apparently having heard the entire conversation, “I concur.”

I poignantly expressed, “wtf” then turned around to ignore the presence of these people while I buttered my muffin.

Cola added, “Well you parade around in your tiny little underpants showcasing that nice round Italian apple bottom of yours.”

Pete did a spit take with his coffee.

I left the room with my muffin.

I otherwise deny that conversation existed, but I’m documenting it here now so I can frame Cola one day.  C-O-L-A Cola.

And otherwise, as promised, I’ll be filling people in on everyone’s STRANGE TENDENCIES on occasion.  Since Cola didn’t play, having been sick, I think I’ll make some up for her.  But for now, here are mine:

-I hate the number six for some reason.

-When I’m using the microwave I make the number I’m punching in end in the number seven.  These are the times I often use: 1:47, 2:37, 2:47, :47, :27; then there’s the triple digit times: 1:11, 2:22, 3:33, etc.

-I pick my nose.

-I hate driving around looking for a parking place, so I park far away because I’d rather walk a distance than look for a closer spot.

-I moan when I take a good shit and if it’s a real good one, I will reflect for an hour or longer about how good it felt to take that shit.

-I bite my nails, sometimes after I’ve picked my nose.  But that’s ok, I usually wipe my fingers on my shirt before I put them in my mouth.

-I don’t like to have sex (when I used to have it) or jerk off while Gary Oldman II is in the same room with me.

-When I’m alone and reading, I like to read aloud in an Italian or a Romanian accent.  Sometimes if it’s slow at work and no one’s in the store, I’ll do it then too, until someone comes in.

And I guess that’s it, so until next time, adieu.

My theme song for this journal entry is “The Impossible Dream” by Christopher Lee, of course.


previous Grimm 214: Super Attractive Grimm’s Commentary and Philosophy of Introspection

next Grimm 216: Bogart and Ashley


For a list with links to all the previous journal entries go to:

Check out the Character Directory Pages to learn about characters mentioned in each post.

This journal entry features Hasty from


Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 211-235 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 23 Comments

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