For easier access to individual posts, you can refer to the Journal Entries Index Page where the posts are numbered/titled chronologically with the links to each post.

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 140: Valentina

December 1, 2013

Valentina was tiny when Sweetheart returned home with her.  I didn’t put the timetable together and hadn’t known that she was born about 6 weeks premature.  I hadn’t figured that Sweetheart could have possibly gotten pregnant the first night we ever slept together, but that’s probably what happened.  Based on the time table.  Valentina wasn’t born in a hospital so it’s amazing she even survived.  Part of me resents Sweetheart for that, it was careless.  I mean being all natural and alternative is one thing, but medical science has evolved for a reason.  Back before we had hospitals and knew about births, many women died in child birth.  Many babies were stillborn, or died if they were breech, or died if they were premature.  Valentina was cared for on the reservation where Sweetheart gave birth.  She was incubated in a sweat lodge and healed and brought to a healthy weight through ointments and rituals and diligent breast feeding.  It is amazing she survived as long as she did.

I don’t even know how Sweetheart got here from Arizona with the baby.  I don’t know if she took a bus, or got a ride, or hitchhiked.  I’m sure she didn’t take a plane.  But she got here, with no warning, and it shocked me, but I took on the role of a father to the best of my abilities.  I had a plan in place to make my life good, to be responsible, to go back to school, to man up in many ways.  I wanted to prove myself to Emma and show her I could be the man she deserves.  I wanted to conquer my addictions and become stronger than the consuming cravings for drugs and alcohol, and I was doing a good job.  I was headed in the right direction.

Then Valentina arrived and I had to adjust and reshape my plans.  I still maintained my ambitions, but included fatherhood in the mix.  I think I was doing a pretty damn good job too.  I was a good father.  I changed her diapers, fed her once Sweetheart began to express her milk, I held her, talked to her, sung to her, read to her, played the harmonica for her, took her to parks.  I tried to be even better.  I think that’s what most good parents probably do, because nobody’s perfect.  They recognize when they should do something differently, or if there is more they can do, and how to do things better.  I was on that path.  I was trying to be the best father I could possibly be.  And in the short time of her existence, I was getting better.

Friday night was a normal night.  We were all asleep.  Sweetheart was in my room and Valentina was in the bassinette, still small enough to be in a bassinette.  I was on the couch and Pete was in his room.  It was about 1am.  I woke up.  I think it was a time that Valentina would typically wake for a feeding or a diaper change.  She wasn’t sleeping through the night yet.  I’ve been told that breast fed babies seldom do early on.  People would say that we should mix some formula in with the breast milk before bed so her belly would be filled and she’d sleep through the night.  But Sweetheart didn’t like that idea, and I agreed with her.  Also, since she wore cloth diapers, that would mean she’d likely be wet through the night, and then she’d get a rash.  I didn’t mind waking with the baby, whenever she woke, no matter how many times, and neither did Sweetheart.

But it was 1am and Valentina didn’t wake, though I did.  I got up and went into my room to check on her.  She was cold.  She was grey.  I shouted “Oh my God Sweetheart wake up call 911!”  Then I pulled Valentina from the bassinette, layed her on the floor and tried to do CPR.  I was giving her rescue breaths and using my two fingers.  Sweetheart called but then told me to stop because Valentina would be brain dead if I brought her back.  I told her to fucking back off.  She said she wanted her to live but that was no way to live, she was a free spirit now, let her go.  She was crying hysterically.  Pete came in and saw what was going on and held Sweetheart while I continued with CPR.  She still wasn’t breathing and I almost threw up when I heard the crack of her little ribs.

I don’t know how long this went on before the EMT’s and police arrived.  They did what they could do and brought her to the hospital, but she was pronounced dead.  Cause of death believed to be SIDS.  They said that SIDS is a greater risk with premies.

We went home after holding Valentina for a little while.  I didn’t want to let her go.  I didn’t want to leave her.  I felt the hugest swell of pain and grief I’ve ever felt, it overtook me and stunted me, immobilized me, made me a zombie.  I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t cry, I could barely move, and I had no idea what anyone was saying anymore.

We got home and Sweetheart cried in Pete’s arms for a while before she finally went to bed.  I was glad for Pete because I wasn’t able to comfort her in any way.  If Pete wasn’t there, I’m sure I’d have pulled myself together for Sweetheart, but it was good I didn’t have to.  I did take Sweetheart to bed, tuck her in, ran my fingers through her hair and along her face, then kissed her head.  As the father, I resented her, though it wasn’t her fault.  As a person separating myself from her, I felt compassion for her.  I figured it must be harder on her than me.  She carried that baby and gave birth to her.  She had the immense bonding through breastfeeding.  And even though I had my own issues with her, it had nothing to do with Valentina.  Sweetheart was a good mom and she loved her.  With the pain I was feeling, I couldn’t imagine what Sweetheart must have been going through.

Maybe she’s stronger than me, because I just couldn’t handle it.  I went back out and sat on the couch with Pete.  He said, “how are you doing?”  I said nothing but all I could think in my head was I didn’t know what to do.  I couldn’t stay there.  I couldn’t leave the house.  I no longer felt safe inside of myself.  I thought if I stayed I might kill myself.  I thought if I left I would just kick the shit out of some random person, the first guy who’d look at me the wrong way.  I felt trapped and I didn’t know how to get out, but I knew I was dangerous.

Finally I said to Pete, “I need to go to the hospital.  Right now.”  So he took to the Emergency Room for a psych evaluation.


previous Grimm 139: Grimm & Hasty in Boston part 2

next Grimm 141: The Hospital & Pete

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 116-140 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 139: Grimm & Hasty in Boston part 2

November 26, 2013

Ok, now that I’m settled at work and it’s kind of slow, I’ll finish my story about me and Hasty.

So I was just lounging on the bed, we got two beds by the way, lounging on the bed watching tv with Gary Oldman (II).  I wasn’t planning to take Gary Oldman (II) swimming, or to Blue Man Group because she doesn’t like water and she wouldn’t like all that excitement of a big crowd.  Not really safe for her anyway.  But I love that she’s my service animal because I can take her anywhere I want.  In the city, she wears her special vest so I get fewer questions, but I still carry her paperwork.  She looks so official in her vest.  Cat On Patrol Gary Oldman.

Anyway, I hear Hasty’s laughter and freaking out so I go to the bathroom door and ask if everything’s ok.  She was like, “aaah! don’t come in!”  Ok.  But then I wanted to.  But I didn’t.

I was like, “are you ok?  can I help you with anything?”

Then she started laughing again and said, “it hurts but nooooo!”

It turns out that as she was waxing her feminine area–I’m referring to it as her feminine area in order to be polite while talking about Hasty–well, she seemed to have accidentally waxed some delicate parts together, that shouldn’t be waxed together.  Apparently if the wax cools down, it hardens.  That makes it complicated to remove.  I offered to help and I wasn’t even being a pervert, it was genuine, because I couldn’t imagine how she could help herself, then I began to imagine too much, and she said no anyway, so I told her to take a hot bath and let me know if there was anything I could do.

Eventually, she was agonizingly able to save herself, and we went down to the pool, sauna, and jacuzzi.  It was fun and we both got a lot of attention because we were speaking in accents.  People were asking us where we were from and details though, so we’d just say we can’t tell them anything because we’re spies.  Then we’d laugh, walk away, and avoid them.

After that we got dressed and ready to go to Blue Man Group at the Charles Playhouse.  I somehow scored front row seats and they gave us ponchos.  We got sprayed by water and paint and buried in toilet paper.  We were literally buried in toilet paper, it was awesome.  I wish the Charles was a bigger space though so they could have the orchestra like they have in some places like Las Vegas.  But it was a brilliant show and we had a lot of fun.  After, Hasty bought one of their used drumsticks with paint on it as a souvenir.  We decided against going out to eat for a few reasons.

1.  I didn’t want to leave Gary Oldman (II) alone in a strange place (the hotel room) for too long.

2.  We wanted to go in the sauna again.

3.  We wanted to hang around in our hotel bathrobes.

4.  Room service made us feel like royalty.

Also, it’s easier for me not to drink than when I go to a restaurant, then I’d want to at least order some wine.

The next morning we went back down to the pool, jacuzzi, and sauna again before having the continental breakfast.  We could either bring the breakfast to our room or eat downstairs.  So after swimming, we went and showered, then came down in our bathrobes and ate downstairs in the café while in our bathrobes.  We spoke in our accents so people just figured it wasn’t weird to do since they assumed we were European.  We learned that when Americans think you’re European, you can get away with a lot.

After breakfast we got ready to check out and go to the museum of fine arts.  It was still early, about 9am, so we decided to walk around in the common for a little while.  It was really cold Saturday though so we didn’t last long.

While we were there we split up to go to two different vendors, just to kill time for standing in line.  I went to get coffees and Hasty went to get roasted almonds.  Her line was shorter so while she sat on the bench waiting for me, she was accosted by some fucking freak.  I hadn’t seen it happen but when I went over to her she seemed kinda distraught.  She told me that he called her slutty because of her low cut shirt and asked if her husband, he had seen her with me, was ok that she was whoring herself out by putting herself on display.  When she told him I wasn’t her husband but a friend, he asked if she and her husband were swingers and said that it was wrong for men and women to be friends.

Of course, after she told me that, I had to go have a talk with him.  I said, “how fucking dare you talk to her like that and you need to apologize.”  He went on to say that I was a fag because I had blue hair and that people like us were what was wrong with the world.  I pushed him and said for him to apologize to Hasty.  But I pushed him repeatedly until he was backed into a tree.  He wasn’t retaliating.  He was scared.  That’s when the cops came over.

I began to explain what was going on, when the guy began on his rant about all that shit that pissed me off.  He said, “here’s the whore now,” when Hasty showed up.  She ran over when she saw the cops.  The cops looked at each other and I could tell they understood where I was coming from.  I said, “I just want him to apologize to her, then I need to fucking walk away because I’m about to kick the shit out of him.”

One cop said, “nope you can’t be doing that, you need to walk away pal.”  The other cop told the guy to apologize and made us go our separate ways after he checked our id’s.  The guy apologized and mumbled about sluts and fags as he walked away.  The cops told me the guy was nuts and I just need to let that shit roll off of me or I’d end up being the one to get in trouble, which is basically true.  Good thing the cops came along when they did or I’d have definitely gotten myself into some serious trouble from enforcing some regrets on that guy.  People like that piss me off and it especially pissed me off because Hasty and I were having a great time and he hurt her.  But as we were walking away she gave me a big smile and held my arm and said I was her hero and that was sweet of me to defend her.  I put my arm around her and we got on the T to head to the Museum of Fine Arts.

We spent the entire day there.  Well, until it closed just before 5, but my favorite part is always the Egyptian exhibits.  Hasty liked the John Singer Sargent exhibit that’s there right now and the Impressionists.  I love the Van Gogh’s.  If I was an artist, I would paint like Van Gogh.

Anyway, other than that incident at the common, our time together was perfect.  But even that made us glad to be who we are as people, because what it came down to was that guy was deeply lonely, and deluded by his own misunderstandings and confusion about people.  Our time in Boston was exactly what I think both of us needed.  And it was a good time without drinking, drugging, doing anything stupid, or jeopardizing responsibility.  It was perfect.

And so, my theme song for this journal entry, is dedicated to Hasty.  It’s “Perfect” or “Fuckin’ Perfect” by Pink, because Hasty is fucking perfect.


previous Grimm 138:  Grimm & Hasty in Boston part 1

next Grimm 140: Valentina

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.

Hasty is a character based upon herself at

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 116-140 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 138: Grimm & Hasty in Boston part 1

November 26, 2013

One of my favorite movie quotes is spoken by Robert DeNiro from “Taxi Driver.”  He says, “I don’t believe that one should devote his life to morbid self attention.  I believe that someone should become a person like other people.”

Now I know this is coming from a character of questionable vigilantism, the kind of guy lacking in social skills so severely that he honestly believes that taking a classy lady to a porn film on their first date is a good idea.  However, it makes sense.  I wouldn’t say that I’m morbidly self-obsessed, though I do have this internal world that no one sees.  It’s an intense world that overwhelms me.  I’ve been trying lately to learn to be a better filter of my abilities to know inside of people, and I think that’s a big part of my problem.  I think since I started blocking, it isolated me, I lost my place, and a lot of my problems began.  It made me less guarded, less aware, more self attended.  So I’ve been working on a balance and the ability to filter, but during the process, until I master it, there’s a lot going on inside me.

Anyway, essentially I want to be normal, like other people, and I don’t feel normal.

I’ve made amends with everyone, but I just get this sense of expectations and/or disappointments, as if they just want me to be one way that I’m not, or different from what I am, or just be myself, but shaped to their liking.  It’s like getting in a relationship, they love you, but once they get involved with you, they try to change you, especially the things they liked about you to begin with.

But I want to do some normal things and enjoy life, while avoiding irresponsibility.  So I decided to spend a little time with Hasty.  She accepts me as I am, no matter what I say or do, and yet somehow she miraculously seems to care about me at the same time.  That’s an usual balance where I’m concerned.  I think so anyway.  We have fun together, and it’s just easy.  It also helps that she’s married, since we’ve got the sexual boundaries in place, so again, no expectations, and it’s just pure friendship.  It’s kind of impossible being friends with girls without the sexual tension.  I mean, of course if Hasty wasn’t married, that would change things, but she is, so I’ll shut up.

I switched around my schedule, by the ok with Sharly, so that Hasty and I could go into Boston and spend the night in a hotel room. This was Friday night.  I wanted to stay over night because we had somewhere to go in the evening, then we could go out to eat or something.  The next day we could do something else, then head home.  She didn’t know my plans, she only knew to pack for overnight.

We got into Boston early, before check in, but we went straight to the hotel anyway.  Conveniently, our room was ready.  She asked what the plans were, so I told her we were going to see Blue Man Group.  She was so excited but said she wanted to go shopping to buy something special to wear.  Then she said since the hotel had a pool, we needed to also get her a bathing suit.  I said I didn’t bring a suit either, so she said I had to get one too.

The next day we were going to go to the Museum of Fine Arts, before we would head home.  She was so happy.  I think she’s the only person I can make that happy.  It makes me want to make her more and more happy until she explodes from happiness.  Well, I guess I don’t really want her to explode.

We went shopping.  I hate shopping.  But it didn’t take her as long as I expected.  She wanted me to get a speedo, but I hate them.  If you get hard, which I tend to do when I’m around half naked women aka women in bathing suits, there’s no hiding it in a speedo.  I ended up getting speedo shorts, which still leave nothing to the imagination, but somehow slightly more than a regular speedo.  We decided to spend the rest of our time in Boston speaking in accents.  I chose Italian, of course, and Hasty chose English.  With the Italian accent, for some reason, I felt more comfortable in the speedo.

After getting all her stuff, we went back to the hotel to order up room service while Hasty waxed her legs and feminine parts.  It took about an hour with her in the bathroom for most of it, while I watched tv.  She had to get all smooth so we could go swimming before going to see Blue Man Group.

At one point, from the bathroom, I hear her laughing hysterically and shouting “oh my god, oh no!”  Of course, my curiosity was peaked.

And so shall yours be, Invisible Journal Reading People, because I have to cut this story short because I have some shit to do before I go to work, but I will finish the story of my day with Hasty later today.

The theme song for this journal entry is “Sing Along” by Dave Matthews & Blue Man Group.  I’m not a huge Dave Matthews fan, but this song is fucking cool.  And listen, Invisible Journal Reading People, for my theme songs, lyrics are always important.  Keep that in mind.


previous Grimm 137: Dave is Stupid, Family Therapy, & Grimm’s Journal Theme Songs

next Grimm 139: Grimm & Hasty in Boston part 2

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.

Hasty is a character based upon herself at

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 116-140 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 13 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 137: Dave is Stupid, Family Therapy, & Grimm’s Journal Theme Songs

November 21, 2013

Sunday I decided to listen to my phone messages.  Everyone called more than once.  There was mom who was concerned.  There was Pete, who apologized and said that Sweetheart explained everything to him.  There was Sweetheart, who apologized and begged me to come home.  There was Danielle our DCF caseworker, who called every day.  There was Iona, who wanted to know if she did anything wrong and why didn’t I go to her if there was a problem.  Then I was texted by Paula, Ayla, Danika, Jay, and Jeff.

Then there was the call from Dave.  He leaves this voice mail asking if I still had the curse on him.  When I was in the process of calling everyone back, I decided to call him.  I told him to leave me the fuck alone because he’s a stupid douchebag and does stupid shit, so the curse stays.  He said, well what if some people came and convinced me to lift the curse.  I was like, “how would they do that?”  He said maybe they’d break each bone in my body, one by one, until I decided to lift it.  I said, that sounds like harm coming to me, so even their coming with the intention to harm me would activate the curse you fucking idiot, that’s stupid, see? stupid shit.  He was like, “oh yeah.”  Dumbass.

I called everyone else back too on Sunday.  But the DCF worker I called on Monday.

Iona has such a low self esteem it took a lot of convincing that I just needed time alone and it was no reflection on her that I didn’t go to her.  I told her I went to Sharly because then I’d be guaranteed responsible and actually go to work.  Also, Sharly is kind of like a friendmom, someone who has a good balance between roles.  She also doesn’t confuse those roles with being my boss.  I have a lot of respect for Sharly, she has solid boundaries and always seems to react to me in the perfect way.  She also seems to know me better than many of my friends even, somehow.  Iona couldn’t understand that Sharly’s is a safe place for me, anywhere else, the way I was feeling, I could’ve gotten into trouble.

I called my mom, reassured her, and texted my friends and Paula.  I made amends with Pete and Sweetheart, though it’s hard not to be aloof with Sweetheart, but I have to be congenial.  I really missed Valentina anyway, so it’s good I’ve been with her again.  Monday morning I went home with my shit, then went to Blues Monday.  After Blues Monday I called Danielle who wanted to have an appointment with me and Sweetheart.  We met with her Tuesday morning before I had to go to work.

She was not happy that I took off.  I didn’t say much, but Sweetheart was going on about this story that I was just visiting a friend in Boston, but I forgot my phone at home, it had only been a week.  Danielle decided to let it slide, but she wants us to go to family therapy.  Family, even though Valentina’s only a baby, because we’re not a couple, so we need to work together to create goals that would strengthen our ability to be proper parents.  It seems like an inconvenience, but I’ll do what I have to do.  Maybe it will help me strengthen my priorities.  I mean, I know I was pissed off, but essentially I shouldn’t have left town or avoided contact.  I should always be accessible because of Valentina, and she needs to be my priority, not myself.  I probably should have just gone to stay at my parents’ or Sharly’s straight away, then maintained contact and spending time with Valentina.  So yeah, I learned a lesson.  I was just confused and ashamed and couldn’t get my head around what happened because it really sucked.

Anyway, Sweetheart said that Valentina missed me.  I didn’t believe her, because I didn’t really think that she would notice I was even gone, but Danielle verified that babies notice, and care, and these are the subconscious years, so it’s in her psyche now that I tend to take off when I can’t figure things out, or when there’s a problem.  I run away like I used to when I was a kid.  I need to grow out of that.

We start family therapy today.  I don’t know if it’s obvious to anyone how hard I really am trying.  I guess I’m just kind of impulsive.  I react with passion and my nomadic nature kicks in.

I think I’m going to choose theme songs for my journal entries.  Today’s entry has two songs.  “Midnight Rider” and “Soulshine” by the Allman Brothers.  Absolutely perfect.


previous Grimm 136: Intellectual Falafel & The Haunting at Sharly’s

next Grimm 138:  Grimm & Hasty in Boston part 1

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 116-140 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 136: Intellectual Falafel & The Haunting at Sharly’s

November 17, 2013

Thursday, I went to the store straight from the train station and worked, then went to stay with Sharly and her girlfriend Lisa.  Turns out that every Thursday they have kind of a gathering.  It’s very cool.  It’s an intellectual, philosophical group of people who gather and create an artistic, kind of retro, kind of avante garde atmosphere.  They listen to jazz, eat falafel, drink lots of wine, and talk art, music, film, literature, poetry, theatre, and existentialism.  The lights are dim and there are lots of candles.  People sit on the sofas, chairs, cushions on the floor.  The house is old, lots of character in the structure, and it’s filled with antiques and books.  It’s decorated in what Sharly describes as a cross between Victorian English and Old French Cottage.  It’s awesome.  Sharly has great taste.  Gary Oldman (II) really likes her house.

The best thing is, I didn’t feel left out.  I tend to be quiet, especially with groups I don’t know, but they included me and asked me questions and got me adding to the conversation and even agreed with the shit I said.  It’s been a long time since I felt so smart.  I say this all the fucking time but it’s so fucking true.  I used to be the guy people went to for problems and people thought I was smart.  I got into drugs, got a problem, had some issues, now people look down on me, they don’t trust me, they think I’m unreliable, and they think I’ve lost all my freakin’ brain cells or something.  Maybe part of that is they know I sustained that brain injury from the Gangsta.  They must think I’m fucking stupid.  I’m still the same guy I used to be, but I’m having a hard time trying to prove it.  Sharly sees it in me, I know it, and she didn’t even know me before the drugs.  She’s always giving me chances.  So that’s why, I didn’t relapse at Sharly’s, though I was tempted.

She asked before if I thought I could handle it.  I confirmed with her that there would be only wine, no liquor, since that would make it easier.  She also got me several bottles of non-alcoholic wine.  The Grateful Dead “Dead Red” was the best.  I really fought against myself.  I didn’t want to disappoint Sharly, and I can’t take care of Gary Oldman (II) properly if I’m drunk.  I had to remind myself that I couldn’t just sneak one drink.  That’s a trap.  You think in your head that you’ll just have one, and then it’s impossible to stop.  That’s what makes it a disease.

So I was good, but Friday I had the shits since it was like drinking several bottles of grape juice.  Also, I didn’t get much sleep Thursday night, and here’s why:

My name is Wall Grimm, and this is the story of “The Haunting at Sharly’s”


We went to bed about midnight.  Everyone left except for me and James.  James is like 40s, black, and gay, and he was too drunk to drive.  Apparently he doesn’t usually get like that but he had just had some mysterious medical procedure and the results of the meds and the prep for the procedure lowered his tolerance.  He wasn’t really messed up, just didn’t want to risk driving.

Sharly and Lisa have two guest bedrooms, each with a queen sized bed.  I already had my shit in one of them so that’s where I went to bed.  The bed was so freakin’ comfortable, as was the room, the temperature.  I felt like I was in some kind of an inn or bed and breakfast.  Then as I was drifting off to sleep, I kept feeling this cool breeze brush against my face and neck.  But I was half asleep so I was ignoring it, until it eventually woke me up enough for me to roll over to see if something was there.  There was an image, a shape, right there beside me, practically on top of me.  It startled me so much I actually shouted and backed up, falling out of bed.  Then I went out into the hall and couldn’t find the hall light.  I was like, “Sharly!  Sharly!  Where’s the light!”

She and Lisa and James all came out.  They turned on the light, and I’m standing in my underwear pointing into the bedroom saying, “there’s, there’s….something…”

Sharly said, “Oh no I forgot about that.  We have a ghost here.  She’s harmless, just curious.”

I felt like such a pussy but there was no way I was going back in that room, at least not that night.  I needed time to adjust to the idea.  I said, “I don’t want to sleep in there.”

James said we could switch rooms.  Then I felt like even more of a pussy when I said I didn’t want to sleep alone.  James said he would sleep with me.  I said I wanted to sleep with Sharly.  She laughed and said no, she’s sleeping with Lisa.  So I said I could sleep with both of them, they have a king sized bed.  Sharly was amused, she could tell I wasn’t even being a pervert, I was scared shitless.  But she said no, so I said I’d sleep with James.

We went to bed and it took me forever to fall asleep.  It’s one of those old houses that makes lots of noise from the heat, and the structure settling.  I’d hear a noise and just look around.  I should have just kept my eyes closed.  Finally I saw something and woke up James.  He sat up looked and it was just a reflection from the moonlight coming in and the heat moving a curtain or something stupid like that.  He said lay down and relax, then he moved up next to me to hold me.  I said, “no I’m not comfortable with that, but thanks,” even though it wasn’t anything sexual, it’s just weird to be like that with another guy.  Not only that, it sucks to be the freakin’ coward who needs to feel safe.

I said I was going to have a cigarette.  I got up, dressed, wrapped myself in a blanket and went outside and smoked three cigarettes after taking 10 valerian capsules that Sharly has.  Not valium, but it’s what they make valium out of.  It’s the root of the valerian plant.  So I took ten of those, smoked three cigarettes, then I was wicked drowsy when I came in so I just laid on the couch still wrapped in the blanket and crashed for the night.  I just needed to get my head around the idea, and Sharly said the ghost was harmless.  It just startled me as I was half asleep.

But I’ve slept in my original room since Friday night and the ghost hasn’t bothered me.  I think it made her sad that she scared me so much.  That’s the sense I get from it.

Anyway, there’s other stuff I should be talking about I guess, like Sweetheart, Valentina, Iona, and Pete, but not now.


previous Grimm 135: Grimm The Lowly Not-A-Real Cowboy

next Grimm 137: Dave is Stupid, Family Therapy, & Grimm’s Journal Theme Songs

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 116-140 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 135: Grimm The Lowly Not-A-Real Cowboy

November 14, 2013

Still at the hostel.  It’s been good being here, being in Boston.  Everyone thinks I’m a foreigner though, a cowboy, because I wear my Eastwood and Stepping Wolves.  Then I talk and they know I’m local.  I’m thinking that the real cowboys wear different kinds of cowboy hats, but whatever.  I was at the common, sitting on a bench with Gary Oldman (II) having some roasted almonds from the vendor, and these girls, I guessed they were Emerson girls, sat down going “awwwwww” over Gary Oldman (II) not me.

Wait, step back.  I took Gary Oldman (II) when I left home.  Packed her food and everything.  At home, she uses a litterbox when I’m gone all day, but otherwise I take her out like a dog, and I’m trying to train her to use the toilet.  I had to have her in her carrier on the train.  Good thing I brought it, because I figured as much.  She doesn’t mind it, especially in the cold, because it keeps her warm.  Good thing she’s a registered service animal otherwise I couldn’t do shit like this with her.  She’s freakin’ adored at the hostel.

Anyway, so these girls sit down and start giving her all this attention.  She attracts the ladies as does Valentina.  The girls were like, “it’s so funny to see a guy like you with a cute, fuzzy little kitten.”  I didn’t know what they meant.  I thought they meant cowboy, so I decided to talk in a Texas accent.  The second I did they were all excited.  I didn’t realize Southern guys would have it made like that up here.  They said they didn’t realize that a cowboy would want to dye his hair blue.  I said, “me neither,” and they laughed like that was the funniest joke they ever heard.  That’s when I figured they wanted to fuck me.  When girls get all giddy like that, it’s kind of a signal sometimes.

They ended up asking me to go to a party, and I was right that they were Emerson girls.  I said no because then I’d have to use the accent all night and I’d be bound to forget.  I also don’t want to be around drugs or alcohol.  I also don’t want to be around a bunch of rich people.  I know some people get scholarships, but I know a lot of those people that go to Emerson have money.  I’m just a lowly not-a-real-cowboy.

The girls were practically begging me to go though, so I kind of regret not taking them up on their offer.  They started calling me the kitten rancher, then the kitty rancher.  Then one of them innocently said, “the pussy rancher.”  I just smirked.  It hit her friend after I smirked.  She gasped and said, “oh my god, do you know what you just said?”  She was like, “no what? –oh! oh my god!”  And her face turned bright red and it took them a while to calm down after that.  That’s when I reckoned they were probably Freshmen.  Note that I used the word reckon.  I think that’s Southern anyway, though they use it in England too.  You just don’t hear it around here.

Ok, back onto the hostel.  There aren’t too many people at the hostel.  There’s this cute redhead that looks just like Scully, and there’s a group of guys from Italy.  They call me paesano, even though they’re from Milan, almost as far from Sicily as you can get.  Last night the entire hostel popped popcorn and watched “Breakfast At Tiffany’s.”  Apart from Mickey Rooney’s offensive character, and Audrey Hepburn being a pain in the ass but getting away with it because she’s cute, it wasn’t bad.  Gary Oldman (II) liked the cat, but couldn’t understand why it was only named “Cat.”

Anyway, I talked to Sharly this morning and the conversation went something like this:

“Sweetheart wanted to fuck me so I did, but she was playing this game like I was raping her, so I kept stopping but she begged me to keep going.  I didn’t like the game, she was fighting and saying ‘no, no, please stop’ so I pinned her down and told her to shut up and enjoy it.  That’s when Pete walked in, got the wrong idea and kicked me out, so I left.  I don’t want to go back there.”

“What about Valentina?”

“I want to see her, but…Sweetheart.”

“You need to come home and clear things up and be a father.”

“I know.”

“Besides, I need you.”


“Shut up Grimm, I need you to work.”

“I know.  I don’t want to see Sweetheart though.”

Then she said I could come home and stay with her and her girlfriend until I straighten things out.  So I said I would.  I’m going to take the next train home, go right to the store, then after work go home with Sharly.  I haven’t talked to anyone besides Sharly.  I’ve kept my phone off and I have tons of voicemails, but I don’t even know who they’re from since I haven’t listened to them yet.

Sharly asked me, “Have you relapsed?”

I said, “No, tempted, but Gary Oldman [II] keeps me in line.”


So I’m going back but I’m no clearer as to what I want to do about Sweetheart than before I left.  I want Valentina in my life, but not Sweetheart.  And I can’t kick Sweetheart out and have visitations with Valentina because chances are Sweetheart will leave town.  She’s a fucking pain in the ass.  I think Gary Oldman (II) is sick of her too.


previous Grimm 134: A Very Special Grimm

next Grimm 136: Intellectual Falafel & The Haunting at Sharly’s

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 116-140 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

“The Journal of Wall Grimm”134: A Very Special Grimm

November 12, 2103

My mom told me that a long time ago when a sitcom would have an episode that touched on serious and mature subject matter, they would say at the beginning that it was a “very special episode.”

Well you Invisible Journal Reading People, there is some very special content today.

My name is Wall Grimm and Invisible Viewer discretion is required.


First thing, now and then I go through a phase when I don’t write so much in my journal, I guess I’m going through that now.  I think mostly I’m just too preoccupied, not very happy, apart from Valentina.  The best thing that happened this week was that we got the blood work results which proved that Sweetheart and I are Valentina’s biological parents.  Anyway, I’m going to skip all last week and go right to Sunday afternoon.

Valentina was at my mom’s who volunteered to babysit to give us a little break.  I get breaks when I go to work, so it was more for Sweetheart.  My mom’s confused and thinks we’re this couple, but we’re not.  Anyway, Sweetheart was sleeping in my room, I was lying on the couch reading but kind of falling asleep.  Pete said he was going to run some errands–get milk, cream, sugar, coffee, other stuff, and pick up some Chinese food.

I put the book down and decided to sleep.  I was wearing boxers and a t-shirt.  Now, my preference when I’m hanging around in my own home is to just be in bikini briefs, but not anymore.  Now when I’m wearing them, Sweetheart will kinda sexually harass me which feels stupid to say, but it’s annoying.  Especially since I’m trying to avoid a sexual relationship with her.  Except a couple times she gave me a blow job, but she offered and that’s hard to resist.

Anyway, while I was drifting off to sleep, she comes out in some lingerie thing and sits on me and says “hi.”  I didn’t say anything, but she began to rub her hands on my stomach and chest up my shirt and she says, “you’re so hard.”

I just said, “…uummmm…”

“You’re body.  Since you’ve been working out so much.  You’re hard.”

I kind of nodded, then she squirmed a bit and laughed.  She looked down and ran her finger on the tip of my dick.  I was hard and my dick was kind of peaking out from the top of my boxers.  I figured she was going to offer me another blow job.  But she said that she wanted me to fuck her and to fuck her really hard.  She told me to slam her so that she could feel it in the huge vagina she has after giving birth.  Then she slapped me, which was stupid and confusing.  But she was moving around on me and then ran off to get a condom.  It really is like a switch.  Dick/brain dick/brain dick/brain.  She slapped me, brain kicks in.  Then she grinds a little and runs for a condom, dick takes charge.

She comes back, pulls down my boxers enough to put the condom on me, then she slaps me again, harder than the last time.  I was like, “the fuck you’re doing!?”

She tells me that the night the cops came, my aggression and forcefulness turned her on.  She said it was sexy and powerful.

“….ummmm ok…so that makes you hit me?”

She said she was trying to get me to hit her back.  I laughed which annoyed her and she slapped me.  I said for her to stop because I wasn’t going to hit her.  But I did flip our positions and got her pinned down with one hand, and I started tickling her with my other hand.  I hate tickling honestly.  I hate being tickled, so I never tickle other people, or at least not longer than for a few seconds.  But she was annoying me, and watching her squirm was hot.  I didn’t do it for very long because one of her straps snapped and exposed her tit.  So I started licking and sucking her nipple.  I released her hands and moved to lie half on her so I could finger her while I did that, but she was already really wet.  We fooled around a little more until we were both crazy hot and then I got on her and started to fuck her and she begins to push me away and say “no stop, please no” very realistically.  I stopped and moved away and said, “I’m sorry, what did I do?”

She said she was playing and to come back.  I said I didn’t like that, but we started again.  I’m slamming her, then she starts up with the no, please don’t crying and pushing me away.  I stand up, put on my boxers and head to the kitchen for a drink.  She grabs me around the ankles and says “please fuck me, please, don’t stop, fuck me Grimm.”  And, ummmmm, dick switches on, “duuuhh okkay dokkay”

So I go in for more, she starts squirming and fighting and pulling my hair saying, “please, no, please stop” and I just grab her arms, pin them down, keep fucking her and I say, “just shut up already and enjoy it” and of course, Pete the Master of Timely Arrivals walks in.  He enters just as I say that, and then I go on to say, “it’s no fun for me if you keep fighting.”

Pete’s such a hero.  He pulls me off of her and tells me to get the fuck out.  I was so confused by the whole thing, I did.  I got dressed, packed up a bag of shit and left.  Sweetheart didn’t say a fucking word as Pete sat with her on the couch with his arms around her after he wrapped her in a blanket.  I was too confused to push the matter or defend myself either.

It was so messed up.  I don’t understand it.  She was acting like I was raping her and of course that’s what Pete saw when he came in, and I was just trying to have normal sex, because she clearly wanted sex.  I was just trying to get her to stop the play acting, but now that I’m away, it feels like I did something wrong.  I keep going over it again and again in my head and I feel ashamed and confused and I just can’t place how I feel.  I’m naturally dominant sexually I guess, but that doesn’t mean I like to force a woman to do what she doesn’t want to do.  There’s a difference.  And even if she’s asking me to play a game, well it felt real.  I just don’t understand it.

Anyway, so I took off, got on the train, went into Boston, and I’ve been at the hostel for the past two nights.  I haven’t called anyone, and I’ve ignored all phone calls.  Well I did call in sick with Sharly.  And yesterday we weren’t having Blues Monday, because it was Veteran’s Day so the guys were going to see some veteran friends and go to celebrations.  They invited me, I said I’d show up maybe, but I didn’t.  I wanted to because I wanted to honor the veterans, but I just walked around Boston aimlessly instead.  Kind of did the Freedom Trail, but with a half-mind and half-direction.

I don’t know when I’m going back.  The thought of going back makes me sick.  I don’t know if Pete knows the truth, and I’m sure I can get him to believe me if he doesn’t.  It’s Sweetheart.  I don’t want to see her.  I’m sick of her.  I want her to get out of my life.  But I don’t want to lose Valentina.  So I don’t know what to do.


previous Grimm 133: Reservation Birth, The Blues Feel, Gary Oldmanisms, & Lord Gary Oldman

next Grimm 135: Grimm The Lowly Not-A-Real Cowboy

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 116-140 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 16 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 133: Reservation Birth, The Blues Feel, Gary Oldmanisms, & Lord Gary Oldman

November 4, 2103

I haven’t been writing so much because I try to spend as much time with the baby as possible.  Once DCF is out of the picture, I have no doubt that Sweetheart will take off on me.  One thing I forgot to write is that Sweetheart and I had to get tested to see if we were the biological parents of Valentina.  The reason we had to do this is because Sweetheart gave birth on a reservation.  There was no hospital involved so Valentina has neither a birth certificate nor a social security number.  There’s no evidence of her existence or that we’re the parents.  We have to prove it otherwise the baby will be taken from us since there would be no way to avoid the speculation of abduction, though I know Sweetheart isn’t like that.  She’s a freak, but not nuts.  We haven’t gotten the results yet.

I’m going to Blues Monday today since Edie wasn’t there last week.  That was just awkward getting caught by Howard as I was trying to kiss his granddaughter.  The worse part was that she was shocked and rejected me.  I mean she was flirting with me wicked bad, wtf was I supposed to think?  She was all but grabbing at my balls.  I hate that.  Girls give you all the signals like they want to fuck you, then you make a move and they’re horrified.  It rarely happens to me, and honestly I think if we hadn’t been with her grandfather, she’d probably have kissed me.  Anyway, I hope she doesn’t come back.  She ruins the blues feel, distracts me from really feeling it.  Sex distracts me.  That’s just the way it is.

Ok so now I’m going to write about shit other than the day to day.  I think I’ll talk about Gary Oldman.

When you see Gary Oldman these days, this is pretty much what he looks like:


He looks so happy.  And that’s good.  This guy deserves to be happy.  I say that because he’s fucking awesome.  People ask me why I named my cat Gary Oldman, and I say because Gary Oldman is fucking awesome.  In polite company, I say because Gary Oldman is awesome.  He’s a top notch guy, there doesn’t need to be an explanation.

Honestly, I don’t know much about him or his personal life.  I can just tell.  And even though he’s huge, I still think he’s both underrated and underutilized.  He’s had a career that didn’t lay him out with a series of typecasts, there is that.  His roles have been diverse.  But still.  I think he needs even more recognition.  He needs to be Sir Gary Oldman.  Or Lord Gary Oldman.  Yeah, Lord Gary Oldman.  That’s what I’m going to call him from now on.

Ok, so here’s my Gary Oldmanism:


This is a quote I pulled from IMDB so who knows how legit it is, but I fucking love it:

“I had this idea of myself as a shy, kind, sweet chap. I was working with Winona Ryder and she turned to me and said, ‘Fuck, man, you’re really intense!’ I was so shocked, I went, ‘What do you mean? I’m not intense, I’m sweet!’ My passion and energy get mistaken for anger.”

I’ll explain in a minute why I like this quote, but first I have to say that obviously this is from “Dracula.”  I watched the movie again recently and the first thing I want to say is that Lord Gary Oldman is such a good actor that even his shadow can act.  He really looks the part of the time, and when he’s wearing those colored shades, he’s like the John Lennon of Vampires.  And Keanu Reeves, that guy is stupid.  Or his character is.  As he’s shaving and Lord Gary Oldman just levitates into the room like someone pushed him on a freakin’ skateboard, in a graceful kind of way, then he gets all freaked out when Keanu Reeves cuts himself shaving and the mirror smashes.  Then he levitates out and the door closes by itself.  Then Keanu sees him crawling around like fucking Spiderman.  Why doesn’t Keanu just get the fuck out of there at that point?  Well, maybe he plans to in the morning, but then the orgy vampires lead by the one and only Monica Bellucci, my personal Italian goddess, come along and yeah, I think I’d stay, even though they eat a baby after.  Whatever.  The movie had a campy kind of 70′s feel which made some of the really bad acting seem intentional, though it probably wasn’t.  Of course, Lord Gary Oldman was not in that realm of bad acting.  He’s the element that made the movie.  And the visuals were amazing.  But what the fuck am I doing, writing a review?

Grimm shuts up.

Ok why do I like that quote…

I like that quote because I kind of feel the same way.  I’m quiet and people think I’m so intense and I’ve been told I make people nervous.  But I’m quiet because I’m kind of shy, though I’m a friendly, polite kind of shy.  Until you piss me off.  I don’t know if I’m sweet, maybe, who knows.  And maybe I’m more private than shy.  I just don’t like to talk about myself.

Anyway, then he said this about being an alcoholic:


“I did a lot of stupid things. When you’re drunk, you think you can pull any bird in the room and they’ll just love the idea of it. You also think you can say anything you like to anybody without them taking offense. Actually, you need the sauce to fill whatever hole that’s there in yourself.”

And yeah, I relate to that for obvious reasons.  But it’s weird because I never put much of it into words before.  This makes so much sense, and it’s simple, but so perfectly articulated, that it’s really profound and reaches me more than anything I heard in detox.

Thank you Lord Gary Oldman, you’re the chap.


previous Grimm 132: The Cops, Grimm the Cop, & Xena the Warrior Princess

next Grimm 134: A Very Special Grimm


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 116-140 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 132: The Cops, Grimm the Cop, & Xena the Warrior Princess

November 1, 2013

Well one good thing about the cops coming the other night is that I finally got an idea for a Halloween costume.  I decided to be a cop.  Kind of cliché, but maybe not so much, since most people dress like monsters, zombies, vampires, and try to get clever with a play on words.  Anyway, more about Halloween later.

Back to the cops.

I kicked in the door and Sweetheart screamed, “no Grimm, please no!”  The cops came in as that happened.  I didn’t know they or Pete came in, but I heard, “Don’t move!”

I turned around quickly because I had no idea who they were and they pulled their guns on me.  wtf.  I had no idea why they were there, why they were pulling their guns on me.  It didn’t dawn on me that it was because of the “domestic disturbance” and apparently someone called about “domestic assault” because I was trying to force Sweetheart back in to the apartment and by holding her arm tightly in order to prevent her from going away, she was saying I was hurting her.

Now to the observer, I can understand how that may appear.  But people have no clue, I mean, if I let her go of her own free will, which of course she has a right to, I would probably never have seen my baby Valentina again.  There was that possibility.  She had no right to come back into my life, impose fatherhood upon me–which I accepted willingly and have been grateful for–only to steal my baby away.  That’s not fucking fair.  I just wanted to talk to her, to ensure I could still be a part of the baby’s life.  She was being selfish.

Anyway, the cops told me to put my hands behind my head, then move slowly down to the floor face down.  Then they frisked me, pulling my wallet, cell phone, and harmonica out of my pockets.  It was violating.  Fortunately they didn’t bind me with those plastic things, but they told me to sit down and shut up while they talked to Sweetheart.  I was lucky they wanted to hear the story first and didn’t just arrest me.  I thought Pete called the cops so I asked him why.  He said he didn’t so I figured it was a neighbor or bystander on the street.  I was so enwrapped, I didn’t even notice that anyone was around.

Sweetheart validated that she was leaving and I had every reason to be upset, and that I’ve never hurt her or the baby, and she’s confident I never would, and in fact she’s never felt more safe than when she’s with me.  Then what the fuck’s her problem??  She said she screamed when I busted the door in because the pounding on the door was scaring Valentina and she was going to open it, but didn’t want to go near the door in case it did crash in while she was there with the baby in her arms.

They left but they were going to file a report with DCF, the Department of Children and Families.  wtf.  The next day, Blues Monday, DCF showed up after I got back from playing with The Convoy.  And btw Edie wasn’t there, which was good, I guess I’ll be going back.  Have shit to say about that too, but not now.

DCF shows up and talked with us, together and individually.  They opened a case because Sweetheart is such a freakin’ bohemian they want to be sure there’s stability in the baby’s life.  They also opened one up because of my substance abuse history and the potential for violence I demonstrated.  They said it would only be a few months, just to monitor things.  Whatever, I’ve got nothing to hide.

So as it is now, I’m barely speaking to Sweetheart.  We’re as congenial as we need to be, but it’s all about Valentina, and I’m trying to make my role as a father even more pronounced.  The truth is, I want the baby and I want Sweetheart to leave, but in reality I know Valentina needs her mother.  Well enough about all that shit, it’s starting to piss me off.


I was a cop and I mustered up the courage to go to a party with Hasty, Patrick, Pete, and Iona.  Iona was a given, but I chose H and the P’s because I figured it would be easier with them to not cave in on the drugs or alcohol that might be accessible.  I did a great job too.  I just kept Valentina in my head, focused on her, did it for her.  I imagined her at my age with the same struggle and it kind of made me sad to think she might have to be like this.  So I figured maybe my parents feel the same about me.  It’s very intense being a parent and all the analytical and emotional things that go on with you.  The world is so different after parenthood.  In a challenging and beautiful way.

So I was a cop, and Hasty dressed up as Emily from “The Corpse Bride.”  Iona dressed like Xena the Warrior Princess which is an old show I’ve never seen, but Iona loves it, and I loved her costume.  Pete and Patrick were Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde.  Pete was Mr. Hyde.  Pete wore the cloak and the hat.  Patrick wore a lab coat and carried a beaker filled with a glowing green liquid.  He broke up some of those glow sticks and poured that shit in there.  We went to Danika’s party, and she was good, the booze was in a separate room with the door closed.  People could freely go in there, but it made it easier not to see it all spread out.  People had their cups and bottles in their hands, but I had brought a case of O’douls which helped a lot.  It wasn’t so bad.

The best part was sneaking off to have sex with Xena.  She got all wild and handcuffed me to the bed, which freaked me out at first until I remembered the cuffs were releasable, then it was really fucking hot.  Damn.  I think I’ll have her dress up as Xena more often.


previous Grimm 131: Working on Abilities & Valente Spirto

next Grimm 133: Reservation Birth, The Blues Feel, Gary Oldmanisms, & Lord Gary Oldman

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.

Patrick is based on himself at and Hasty is based on herself from

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 116-140 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 131: Working on Abilities & Valente Spirto

October 29, 2013

On Sunday I thought more about how I block my abilities, so I decided to go to the park and people watch for a while.  I wanted to practice turning it on and turning it off at will, so that I could block without thinking of it.  I like the ability to be more aware of what’s going on with other people, but I want to filter it.  I want less detail.  I don’t want to invade privacy and there are some things I just don’t want to know.  I didn’t take Gary Oldman (II) with me, because I didn’t want any distractions.

I sat there and it was kind of cold, but the thing about centering yourself like that, you build up this energy, basically your life force, and then you are warm.  It’s called Chi, or Prana, but I like to refer to it as Ka, which is Ancient Egyptian.  I also like to call it Numa, as it’s called by the Strega, the Italian Witches, but mostly I like Anima.  When I was a kid my mother used to call me Spirto, because I had a big soul, old soul, strong spirit, or I was very spirited.  She called me that basically for all those reasons.  She’d call me Valente Spirto when she was mad and Valspirto when she was amused.  She hasn’t called me that in a long time, because I changed my name to Wall.  So she struggles to call me Wall or Grimm and occasionally calls me Valente.  The Spirto never has the chance to come out.  I guess I’ve been blocking in that way too.

Anyway, when you focus, the energy just raises up, and it’s like you’re in this private realm that nothing can penetrate.  Yet you’re not trapped within it, you just feel balanced and calm, and you can freely interact with other people without disturbing it.  The more energy you build up, the more draining it can be, it’s just a matter of the strength of your abilities and how much practice you’re in.  For me it’s easy to do it, like I never stopped, and doesn’t drain me at all.  In fact, getting into that realm only took me about two seconds.

I’ve been blocking, but this energy you can also use when you’re angry.  People usually know when I’m pissed off and this energy kind of keeps them away from me.  It’s strong enough for them to sense the ‘fuck off’ kind of vibe I guess.

So yeah, I digress, after I was in my realm, I began to observe different people.  I saw a couple old guys on a bench.  I couldn’t hear what they were saying but they were having a quiet, congenial conversation, and they laughed a lot.  I knew that they were both widowers.  One of the men, his wife died last year.  The other wife died a couple years before that.  The first wife died of cancer.  The second wife died in her sleep of natural causes.  She had been in a nursing home, because she kept falling and he was afraid he couldn’t take care of her.  He hated doing it and believes that she would still be alive if he didn’t put her there.  But their kids stepped it and it was overwhelming with all sorts of decisions and everything was so fast and it seemed like so many people were talking all at once most times.  He tried to focus on what was best for her, but…

I was really getting lost in it.  Partly this is why I blocked it.  It can be distracting and can prevent me from direct interaction with people, while I get lost more and more deeply in other people’s worlds, delving into personal histories, seeing it all clearly like I’m reading a novel.  Anyway, I was about to get real deep and then a woman and her baby walked by.  Instantly I knew that something was up with Sweetheart and Valentina.  I ran all the way home.  It’s kind of awkward running in my Stepping Wolves, but I did it.  And when I got there, I saw Sweetheart half way down the street walking away from my apartment.  She had Valentina in the snuggly.  She was wearing a backpack and carrying the diaper back strapped over her shoulder.  She was fucking leaving me.

I made it to my front door and I yelled “Elaina!”  I never call her by her name but I did not feel like calling her Sweetheart at that point.  She turned and said she needed to leave.  I told her to “get over here” so we can talk.  She said no.  I said “get the fuck over here right fucking now.”

She walked over and told me she was leaving.  I said that she can’t just leave, that’s not fair, it’s my baby.  Then I said she can fucking leave if she wants, I don’t give a shit, but leave the baby with me.  She said no and started to walk away.  I told her to get inside so we can talk, but she said no.  I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her over to me.  She pulled away and started walking again.  I grabbed her again and I said get the fuck inside.  The baby started crying.  I opened the door and by keeping a grip on her arm, I forcibly moved her in.  Then there was the security door and the apartment door, both locked, that I had to contend with, all while I was just trying to get her in so we could talk.  There was no way we could figure this out if we didn’t talk.  That’s all I wanted.  I just knew for a fact that if I let her walk away, I’d probably never see my baby again.  And I was furious.  I can’t believe she was just going to fucking leave without talking to me first, no note, nothing, just like after she found out she was pregnant.  And she has the fucking balls to come back and I’ve accommodated her, and taken on the role as a father, and she was just going to leave again.

Anyway, we struggled for a good half hour during the entire process.  She was telling me to stop, I was hurting her, I was scaring her, and the baby was crying, but I only was grabbing her by the upper arms and kind of using my body to block her in while I unlocked the doors.  I wasn’t trying to hurt her or be so physical but I had no choice.  We needed to talk and getting her inside was my only opportunity for that.  And I was especially careful not to do anything that would hurt the baby.  I felt bad that the baby was crying and probably scared.  I wanted to hold her and tell her she was safe, but everything that I wanted to do that was peaceful and rational, Sweetheart fought against.

Once inside, she ran to my room, slammed the door and locked it.  I began kicking the door and shouldering it and I have to say it looks much easier in the movies.  It also appears easier on the body in the movies.  Since kicking it was sending shock waves up my legs and I bruised up my arm and shoulder pretty bad.  During the process I was shouting that she can’t lock me out of my own room and I only wanted to talk.  But I finally busted the door in, and Sweetheart and the baby were crying and Sweetheart said, “no Grimm, please no!” in this desperate voice as if I was going to kill her.

And it was at the point that the door bust in and they were crying like that, that Pete walked in with the police.  He didn’t bring them, someone called, he just let them up, figuring whatever they were there to investigate had to be some kind of a mistake.

But writing this is pissing me off, so I’m going to set my journal aside for a while until I can clear my head and finish my story.


previous Grimm 130: Blocking Abilities, Edie Gets Grimm in Trouble, Grimm Defends Sharly, & The Phallus Babi

next Grimm 132: The Cops, Grimm the Cop, & Xena the Warrior Princess

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Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 116-140 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

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