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” 155: The Blues and The New

January 16, 2014

It was great to go back to Blues Monday.  That helped a lot and the guys were real supportive.  At one point I was outside having a butt and Howard joined me, though he doesn’t smoke.  He said, “I bet it’s hard to be where you’re at, surrounded by too many memories, so if you need a place to stay, you got a place to stay with me and Daisy.  Right now, or sometime.  Anytime.  As long as you need.  No rent, nothing.”  I said thanks, I’d think about it.  Then he added, “I know we’re old and you’d probably rather be with your young friends, but you’d eat well, have peace and quiet.  We have a spare room.  And if it helps your decision, you’d be doing us a favor.  You could help around the house doing things we have a hard time with these days.”  He said this last bit with the pride of a guy who has never needed anyone in his life, the swallowed pride.

To me that sounded ideal because if there’s a way I can live rent free with none of those kinds of expenses, that would help me a lot.  Plus, if he needs my help, I can do it in a way that he doesn’t have to swallow any more pride or suffer any indignities, based solely on his age and the fact that he physically can’t accommodate the internal status of himself as a man.  I said, “Well I like the sound of that.  I just need to check with Pete to see if he can manage without my contributions.  He has, I just don’t know how much he struggles without it because he doesn’t complain.”

So that was Monday.  I talked to Pete yesterday and he said he’d do all right.  I made sure he was being honest about that.  I think I need a change of scene.  I was thinking about it anyway and the only options I could come up with, which wouldn’t cost me too much money, were living with my parents or moving back in with Paula.  I’m not going to live with my parents because then they’d be hyper vigilant about my activities and moods, whatever.  Moving back in with Paula would mean I’d go back to being her kept boy.  I’m going to call Howard today and take him up on his offer.  Maybe I can move in on Saturday after I visit Bogart.  It will be pretty awesome living with Howard I think.

I never showed him my lyrics to the song I wrote for Emma, but if I live with him, maybe we will have time to work on the music for it together.

Anyway, that was Monday.  Tuesday I had my first day of school and had all my classes in one day.  There’s a level of organization I’m going to need that hasn’t been utilized in long time, but I think it’s going to be a good semester.  Emma is my motivator.  I think she’s not interested in me because I am symbolic of this place she wants to leave.  I’m her past and she doesn’t see me as her future.  She wants to start a new life somewhere and she doesn’t see me fitting into that.  So I need to show her that I’m starting new too, and I have ambitions and the ability to follow through with making them happen.  Plus, I’m a gypsy so I can just pick up and go wherever she wants, whenever she wants.  That’s another thing about moving in with Howard, I’ll be able to save money to maybe make a life with Emma somehow.  Yeah, I’m dreaming, but I have to be ready for anything.

Also on Tuesday, I ended it completely with Iona.  I wish I could just have sexual relationships with girls without love getting involved.  Paula fell in love with me as did Iona.  I wish we could just be friends and have sex and that’s it.  But even if girls start that way, they end up getting emotionally attached and become possessive.  Iona is different though.  She’s not possessive, or she doesn’t act on it.  She’s been good about our not having a committed relationship, and she even understood when I wanted to end anything romantic we have left.  We said we’d stay friends.  I hope we do because she’s a cool person.  I just feel like I definitely want to start new and fresh in many ways.

Wednesday, after my first day of school, I already had a day off.  No classes.  I worked most of the day and it was good to be back at work and see Sharly again.  She also offered me to stay at her place, but I think it might be quieter at Howard’s and it’s completely new for me.

When I was working yesterday, this little girl and her mother came in to look around.  They asked me if we had books on fairies.  So I showed them where the books were.  Later when they came to pay for stuff, that little girl was so freakin’ adorable and polite and sweet, I grabbed one of the mini books we have on a rack by the counter, one about fairies, and I gave it to her.  I said she could have it for free because she’s so polite.  I think she’s about five years old.  She was all happy and then her mother gave me this look like she just fell in love with me and then I noticed she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.  She was thanking me and as they left she said they’d definitely be back.  Later, I took another one of those little fairy books and I went back to see Sharly.  I told her I gave one to a little girl and so I was going to make a slip with the ISBN # and she could take it out of my pay check.  She said to make the slip but don’t worry about the money this time.

When I do things like that, I realize that I like to make people happy.  When I’m going through my own shit and all self absorbed and shit, it’s hard to think of anyone else.  So I think I’d like to just fucking move on from so much of the shit that’s been going on the past couple years and focus on other people for a change.  When I move in with Howard, I’m going to help them out as much as they need and more.

Then maybe, eventually, I can help Bogart when he gets out, not sure when that will be.  But I don’t think I really want to subject Howard to Bogart.  Maybe Bogart can live with my parents.  Ok, that just made me laugh.

All right, today’s theme song is “Instant Karma” by John Lennon, since I dreamed about him the other day, meaning a transitional time in my life, and because this song makes a lot of sense.


previous Grimm 154: Wall Grimm’s List of 20 Curious Events

next Grimm 156: Grimm the Boring Old Guy & Retrospect is Always Too Late

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 141 - 155 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 154: Wall Grimm’s List of 20 Curious Events

January 13, 2014

Ok well, tomorrow I start my classes, kind of nervous about that.  I don’t trust myself to follow through.  I’m convinced I’m going to fuck up somehow, but I just have to try and trust myself.   I have all of my classes tomorrow, it’s the biggest school day of the week, but the schedule isn’t so bad since I’m only taking four classes.  I have Applied Statistics from 8-9:15, Abnormal Psych from 9:30-10:45, General Psych from 11-12:15, and Intro to Cognitive Neuroscience from 2-3:15.  I’m not really supposed to be taking Abnormal Psych until I complete General Psych which is a prerequisite, but I waivered in through my advisor.  She also had me register with the Disabilities Center and I’ll give all my professors the notification of my processing issues, and the fact that I just had a recent trauma with the death of Valentina.  Anyway, all my journals are not going to be consumed by my school life, I’m going to vow that to myself now.  Because I know that school will feel all consuming, and I don’t want it to take over this world.  So enough about it.

Yesterday we had services for Valentina, but I don’t want to talk about that.  Today I’m going to Blues Monday, so I’m glad about that.  Mostly I’m glad to be with Gary Oldman (II) again.  Otherwise, it’s just life as usual.  I think I’ll write about some interesting things that have occurred since I’ve come home.  They might not be that interesting essentially, but I’ve only been home for a week, so give me a fucking break, Invisible Journal Reading People.

My name is Wall Grimm and here is a list of 20 interesting things that happened since I’ve come home:


1.  I was going for a walk with Gary Oldman (II) and someone asked me for my autograph.  Who knows why.  I didn’t ask.  Maybe I look like someone famous I don’t know about.  I just gave her the autograph anyway.

2.  I’ve been working regularly on my novel and that’s interesting to me.  If it’s not interesting to you Invisible Journal Reading People, that’s your problem.  Why are invisible people reading my journal anyway?  It’s supposed to be private.

3.  I went to visit Bogart and he was so excited he punched me in the eye.  ‘Nuff said.

4.  I shaved.  That’s really interesting because it’s been a while since I’ve used a real razor, not an electrical one.  My face is so smooth, I can’t stop touching my own face.  And I got a real haircut, so the combination of a hair cut, clean shaven face, and a black eye really does something for the esteem.

5.  Ayla came over last night and gave me a blow job while Pete was out with Sweetheart buying some food.  That’s extremely interesting to me.  It’s been a while.  I think the meds have worn off.

6.  I had a dream about John Lennon.  I dream about him sometimes, usually during transitional periods in my life.  Yeah, it’s weird.

7.  I went running, because I hadn’t worked out much for the past month so my body was sore for lack of exercise.  So I went running, slipped on some ice, fell over the rail of the bike path into the road, a car swerved to avoid hitting me and nearly missed another car.  No collisions and everyone was safe.  But that was nuts.

8.  I went on facebook.  That’s more weird than interesting because I haven’t been on in so long.  There was so much there for me waiting for my activity.  I almost cancelled my account, until I remembered that Emma’s my friend on fb, so I decided to delete all the activity and comments from long ago, and start fresh.  Still inactive but maybe I’ll just fb stalk Emma for a while.

9.  I saw Dave at the park.  When he noticed me, he took off in the other direction.  He’s still terrified of the curse I put on him.

10.  When I was walking down the street one day, I passed a bar.  I mean I literally passed it by without noticing it until I was passed it.  I stopped and thought that was amazing.  I’m always tempted to go in, and they never go without notice.

11.  I was showering and got soap in my eye.  I tried to wipe the soap out with the towel hanging on the curtain rod.  The curtain rod fell and I tried to catch it but I couldn’t see.  I slipped and fell over the side of the tub.  I fell onto the toilet, knocking off the back part of the toilet which smashed on the floor.  I continued to fall and landed on the floor.  Pete opened the door to see what was going on and he smashed the door against my head.

12.  The landlord gave us a new backing for the toilet and fixed the shower curtain rod.

13.  I went to see “Anchorman 2”.

14.  I ate 2 gallons of chocolate ice cream in one sitting.

15.  My thumb hurts for no reason at all.  I think it has anxiety because of all the school assignments it will need to be utilized for.

16.  This week has been extremely cold with below zero wind chill and single digit temps, and it has also reached 60 degrees.

17.  I went back on fb a second time in one week.  But this time it was to jerk off to an image of Emma.

18.  I was at the library and I could see up this girl’s skirt who was up the stairs ahead of me.  It was on one of the 60 degree days, otherwise I’d wonder why she was wearing a skirt.  She was wearing lacy blue panties and she caught me looking.  She moved to the side, held her skirt and continued up the stairs faster.  Oops.  I should have avoided getting caught.

19.  My karma from that was I came home one day to find that my fly was down.  It was a day I had decided to go commando.

20.  I wrote a song for Emma.  Maybe Howard can help me put it to music.

Anyway, I’ve been feeling more like myself, and I’ve just been doing shit and keeping myself busy.  I stay home as little as possible.  I think I need a new apartment.  I don’t like being home much.

My theme song today is “Walking Contradiction” by Green Day because this song makes no sense but at the same time makes a lot of sense.  Kinda like me.


previous Grimm 153: Depressing and Boring Grimm, & a Gary Oldmanism

next Grimm 155: The Blues and The New

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 141 - 155 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 153: Depressing and Boring Grimm, & a Gary Oldmanism

January 10, 2014

I can’t bring myself to wear the necklace Sweetheart gave me with Valentina’s ashes in it.  It seems wrong to me.  I feel like I want all of her ashes to be together.  And I don’t want to spread them anywhere, I want them buried at a plot so I can go to her grave.  I wish she hadn’t been cremated.  But that’s all my fault since I escaped all that decision making.  I dealt with my grief in a different way, by not dealing with it at all.  At least Sweetheart was doing what she had to do and took some action in the process, so I won’t say anything to her about it.  I probably will wear the necklace sometime, when I’m ready.  We’re going to have services for her on Sunday.  First we’re going to have a private Shaman/Gypsy/Hippy/Pagan/Vagabond kind of thing.  Then we’re going to a church.  Then we’re going to have a reception.  Being Sicilian, I’m used to having a wake, but she’s been cremated, so it’s weird to not have that.  Unfortunately for me, I need to see the body in a casket in order to accept the death.  If I don’t have that, it’s difficult for me to know the reality of it, and it takes me longer to grieve because a part of me denies the death ever happened.  My parents and Pete are helping me and Sweetheart make the arrangements.  I honestly don’t feel equipped at this time to pull it off, but I’m sucking it up and doing it because I don’t want to be so weak.  I also forgot to cover all the mirrors.  My family covers all the mirrors after a death because the deceased person’s soul can be captured in the mirror when a loved one looks in it.  But that hasn’t happened, I just know these things.

Anyway, onto less depressing things.  Tomorrow I’m going to see Bogart and I’m bringing him a carton of cigarettes.  I’m also going to Blues Monday, which is great because I definitely need that.  Yesterday, I registered for my classes and I bought my books and supplies.  I already completed a lot of my requirements and electives, so I just get to focus mostly on my Psychology major.  I scheduled my classes to avoid Mondays, and I’m only taking 4 classes to start since it’s been a while that I’ve been to school and I don’t expect too much from myself at this time.  The cool thing is, I have Wednesdays off too.  This is my schedule:

Intro to Cognitive Neuroscience – Tues/Thurs 2-3:15

General Psych – Tues/Fri 11-12:15

Abnormal Psych – Tues/Fri 9:30-10:45

Applied Statistics – Tues/Thurs 8-915

That gives me time to work as well, but I don’t know how much yet.  I haven’t been working so I haven’t made money, and I haven’t paid rent.  Sweetheart’s not financially contributing for that matter either.  I got a loan for school, but once I turn 25 in August, I’ll qualify for a grant so I can go for free, which is good.  So it’s just this semester.  I start on the 14th and until February, I’m going to work long days on Wednesdays, and go to work from School on Fridays.  In February I may increase my hours.  I definitely need to give Pete money.  He’s not asking for any, but I should, even to cover for Sweetheart, but I don’t make that much, so we’ll see.

Ok this journal entry is fucking boring.  Life and reality and boring shit.  I went from depressing things to boring things.  That’s me lately.  My name is Wall Grimm and I’m depressing and boring.  And the world is very quiet without Bogart around.

I feel old.  I never felt old before.  But going to the college yesterday to take care of this shit…damn.  A bunch of fucking 18 year olds all over the place and I realize I’m freakin’ six years older than these other students.  wtf.  When did that happen?  I guess I should plan to grow up soon or something.  And for some reason that comment just made me horny.  I’m feeling horny for the first time since Valentina died.  Ok now I’m not horny anymore.  When I had relatives that died, I used to feel weird jerking off after for a while because I thought they could see me.  But it’s hard to go more than a day without jerking off.  I did go without for this month or however long it’s been.  Very strange for me.  I even saw Iona on Wednesday and couldn’t do it.  I didn’t try so it wasn’t like I was impotent or anything, just my libido.  Like I said before, maybe the medication had something to do with it.  But I stopped taking the medication the day I got out of the institution and it takes a while to get out of the system.  Now I’m horny again, just jumping in and out of horniness.  I think I’ll call Iona and go to her place, so when the horniness jumps in, I can jump on Iona.

I think I’ll end with a Gary Oldmanism.

My name is Wall Grimm and here is a Gary Oldmanism:


Gary Oldman said, “What other people think of me is none of my business.”  Or so the internet claims he said it.  I like this quote and I’m going to draw on its powers.  These past couple of years I’ve gotten harder and harder on myself, and I’ve figured people just see me as a loser and irresponsible and unreliable and etc. etc. etc.  Maybe they don’t.  Maybe that’s just how I see myself.  I didn’t always see myself that way, only these past couple of years.  And even if others see me that way, it doesn’t fucking matter.  Fuck them.  Fuck them all.  I know who I am.  I know what I’m capable of.  I’ve just been in a rut.  But I’m coming back.  And I don’t need to prove anything to anyone.  Except maybe for Emma, but that’s a whole different story.

Anyway, it’s none of my business what people think of me because it should have no bearing on how I see myself or how I think or behave.  I am the ruler of me and I don’t need to apologize when my mistakes only affect me.  If I hurt other people, then I should apologize.  But otherwise, I just have to live my life to the best of my abilities, get out of this rut, and be who I am, true to me, without hurting anyone in the process.  And for that matter, it’s none of my business what I think of me either.  Who cares what I think.  I have no say in it.  I can be a real asshole at times.  I have to learn to ignore myself in that sense.

Thanks Gary Oldman for more words to live by.

Signing out,

Wall Grimm

The theme song for this journal entry is “I Wanna Be Your Dog” the Gary Oldman version of Sid Vicious, because I was just talking about Gary Oldman, and I want to be Emma’s dog.


previous Grimm 152: Going Home

next Grimm 154: Wall Grimm’s List of 20 Curious Events

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 141 - 155 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 152: Going Home

January 7, 2014

My parents picked me up yesterday.  Bogart was distraught, but he was glad when I said I’d visit him on Saturdays.  He said hopefully his mom won’t visit because he only wants to see me.  But after he released me from his enormous and tight hug that seemed to last forever and prevent me from breathing properly, and after he rubbed the tears off his face and the snot from his nose with his sleeve, he grabbed my face and called me a cunt and a wanker and said he loves me.  Then he slapped my face in an Italian kind of way even though he’s Cockney and told me if I don’t come back he’ll hunt me down when he gets out.  This was followed by an overzealous bout of laughter after which he told me he was joking.  He said he’d understand if I didn’t come back because why would anyone really want to visit him anyway.  Like I said, he’s getting better, but he’s still fucking tragic.  As I was leaving, he pulled me aside and told me that my mom has great tits.  He said it in the only way he knows how to be discrete–just by pulling me aside, but his big mouth still could be heard by anyone within the vicinity, which included my mother.  I was like, shut the fuck up I don’t want to be hearing that shit.  He laughed, called me a bugger and a cunt and said, “goodbye me Constable.”  Then he saluted me and walked away.

Once we were outside the doors of the institution, my parents were commenting on how sad it is that he’s so troubled, since he seems like an otherwise good kid.  My mother added that it’s been a long time since she’s heard anyone say anything like that about her so she was flattered.  I was like, shut up mom.  She said that as a young woman, all anyone, men in particular, care about is beauty, so she had to always prove she had a personality and brains.  But as she gets older, she doesn’t feel the need to prove anything anymore, so now it’s nice to know people still think she has great tits.  Yeah, my mom used the word tits.  I groaned and told her to shut up again.  She and my father thought it was funny.

They took me out to eat at my favorite Italian restaurant and asked if I wanted to do anything else after.  The truth was that I just wanted to go home, but I also didn’t want to go home.  I didn’t want to see Sweetheart.  I wish she wasn’t there.  I wish I had my own place.  Or that she wasn’t there.  Going home to Pete is fine, because he knows how I am and is just a peaceful presence, and he leaves me be when I want him to.  He knows how to talk to me and how to approach me, or just how to be around me so that it’s good to have his company and at the same time have my privacy and solitude.  In the past if I was ashamed about something stupid I did, then I didn’t want to face him.  But I’m not ashamed of anything now.  I just didn’t want Sweetheart there because she is the hugest reminder of Valentina, and I’m not ready to confront that situation.  I’ll handle it, I just need to do it my own way, but she is a reminder that I can’t deny.  With her around, there’s no avoiding the memories and the grief.  Even writing this is difficult.

But my parents took me home and Pete and Sweetheart welcomed me.  Pete took the day off from work so he could be there.  He’s a great friend.  At first it wasn’t so bad.  We didn’t talk about anything in particular.  Instead, Pete had bought season 2 of “American Horror Story” and we watched the entire season.  It’s his sense of humor that it takes place in an institution because he knows I’d think it was funny too and the show’s undeniably fucking awesome.  And I’m in love with Jessica Lang now.  Her acting talents turn me on and she’s a very hot older woman.  Watching the intensity of her character is like witnessing a masterpiece being created before your eyes, like Michelangelo sculpting “Pieta” right in front of you, with every grace and skill that artists can possibly capture, and the final piece is beyond beauty and stirs the soul like nothing else.

Once we finished the final episode, I was kind of ready to just go to sleep, so Pete was putting away the left overs of the Chinese food we had ordered.  I was sitting on the couch and kinda missing Bogart and Kristin and even Sadie.  I even missed the guy who was always trying to grope me that never bothered me again after Bogart attacked him.  He was just another character in that world with his own shit.  The psychology of the mind can also form lamentable works of art that make statements about the human condition.

While Pete was busy, Sweetheart went to her room, which is really my room, and returned with a necklace for me.  She handed it to me and said that the little “vase” on it held some of Valentina’s ashes.  She has one too.  The rest of the ashes are in a small urn which she brought out to show me.  She said we can have some kind of spiritual rites to release her now that I’m out, and we can spread her ashes wherever I want, but that she and I would have the necklaces, so a part of Valentina would always be with us.  I hate to say that it made me sick.  My baby was just ash now, not even ashes all together, but broken apart and meant to be dispersed.  I wasn’t ready to handle that or wrap my head around it.

I looked at the necklace in my hand and Pete walked in and just stopped in his tracks when he saw me there looking at it.  Sweetheart was talking, I don’t even know what she was saying, but Pete hushed her by gesturing with his hand for her to stop speaking.  I put the necklace on the table by the lamp and went outside to have a cigarette.  When I returned, Sweetheart had gone to bed and Pete asked if I was ok.  I said yeah and just laid on the couch and said I was going to sleep.

One of the best things about returning was that Gary Oldman (II) was really excited to see me.  She was meowing and jumping all over me and curling up on my lap and following me everywhere.  I thought she would hate me for abandoning her for so long.  But she was just happy that I was back.  Innocence and unconditional love, just like Valentina.  So I laid on the couch and she was sitting on my head when Pete was assured I was ok and he went to bed.

About a half an hour later, I sat up and held the necklace, looking at it, and I began to cry.  I hadn’t cried since the night she died.  But I cried last night and the pain was immense.  It was too much.  And here I was on the couch, slumming in my own apartment.  I got up and Gary Oldman (II) followed me to Pete’s room.  I opened the door and stood in the doorway.  Pete asked if I was ok and I started crying again.  I asked if I could sleep in his bed.  He said of course and was collecting himself to go sleep on the couch, but I told him to stay, since he has a queen size bed, there’s room.  So I got into bed with him, on my side with my back to him, holding Gary Oldman (II) and the necklace, and I just cried myself to sleep.  Pete was good, he didn’t say or do anything.  He knows me, and knows if I needed to talk I would have asked to talk.  But he just let me cry myself to sleep.  And it felt more painful to cry than to hold it in.  I thought it would be like a release, but it wasn’t, because there was too much to let out.  Crying just made me more aware of how much was there, and how much pain I was in.


previous Grimm 151: Preparing to Leave & Seasons in the Sun

next Grimm 153: Depressing and Boring Grimm, & a Gary Oldmanism

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 141 - 155 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 151: Preparing to Leave & Seasons in the Sun

January 5, 2014

I’m leaving the institution tomorrow.  Once I’m out, I’m going to stop taking the medication they’re forcing me to take here.  As I’m thinking about it though, I think it’s helping.  I don’t have the anger or the agitation, and the depression has levelled to the point that I think I can function.  When I first got here the depression was debilitating.  My moods just feel stabilized and I’m kinda mellow.  I think I’d rather attribute the change to just being here and getting things in perspective.  I also kind of think that Bogart had something to do with it.  I mean, I think I’ve helped him, at least a little, but he’s also helped me to realize that I’m not so mentally bad off as I thought.  So I’ll stop with the medication and see what happens.  I don’t like the idea of taking pills on a daily basis.  Or maybe I just like popping pills too much and I’m paranoid it will lead me to bigger and better drugs.  Psychiatric medication is basically pills to make you feel better.  But so is ecstasy or cocaine or opium or whiskey.  The difference is the addiction and the come down.

A part of me doesn’t want to leave because it has become a whole other world for me here.  I feel like I’ve gone through the looking glass or like I’ve slipped through some veil and all I need is a doorway like a wardrobe and I can come and go as I please.  But that’s not the case.  There are mythical creatures here, spiritual beings, demons, monsters, ids, and egos encompassed in a range of psychoses and manifested as a parallel world in a Neil Gaiman novel.  Yeah, this is like Neverwhere, the world beneath the London Underground.  And it’s going to be hard to leave Bogart behind, as if the demons will at last be able to consume him once I’m gone.

Kristin seems kind of sad that I’m going and told me she’s going to draw something for me as a source of protection from the evils out there.  She’s less crazy than she is intense and brilliant.  Sadie still has been asking to see and touch my dick.  I still say no, but now and then I catch Bogart holding his pants open while she looks down inside.  He has this big, proud grin on his face like he’s all pleased with himself.  He’s gratified at being mischievous and also because she says, “ooooh it’s so big.”  I have to tell him that it’s not appropriate and stop him from letting her touch him.  I think once I’m gone, he’ll probably get a blow job out of her.

He never got Kendall Goth Girl.  He kind of freaked her out because he just comes right out with whatever is on his mind.  She preferred me because I never speak, but I’d not engage her in anyway, we never talked at all because I’d walk away.  She told Bogart that she’s a virgin and wants to stay one.  But he gave her a pack of smokes so she would show him her tits while he jerked off.  That happened yesterday though she wouldn’t let him touch them.  I think eventually it will go further.  She doesn’t have anyone visiting and bringing her cigarettes.  Neither does Bogart for that matter.  Only his mother comes, he doesn’t seem to have anyone else, not even any friends.  No one has the patience to see past his manic personality and get to know him.  He said he had friends he’d go to bars with, but based on what he says about them, it seems they only like to see how far he’ll go with the trouble he can cause.  They instigate him for kicks.  Now that he’s here, he’s no fun anymore for them.  When his mother comes, she doesn’t bring him anything, not even cigarettes.  Instead, she just comes and talks about his disorder and treatments and what works what doesn’t and how he’s acting while she’s there.  He hears enough of that from the staff in the institution.  She kind of pisses me off.  Makes me grateful for my own mother.  When I have people coming to see me, they bring me a carton of cigarettes.  I haven’t smoked a pack per day, but I share them with Bogart and give him three packs.  When I come on Saturdays to visit him, I’ll bring him cigarettes.  So basically I supplied the smokes that enabled him to see Goth Girl’s tits.  Maybe he’ll get more if he gives her two packs at a time.  That has nothing to do with me, it’s her own ethics being skewed.  She’s just suicidal, he’s got a significant mental disorder and truthfully has a hard time distinguishing between right and wrong most times.

The electroconvulsive therapy seems to be helping him though.  He’s less manic and his subjects are less sporadic.  I keep thinking that when and if he’s able to get out, maybe he can come stay with me.  But I don’t know if I can control him or if I can trust him to stay out of trouble.  It’s strange to think that there are Bogarts wandering around on the streets freely.  He’s like a combination of a rabid wolf, unpredictable and dangerous; and a lost puppy bouncing around all over the place, jumping on people, and looking for a home.

Regarding my own life, I requested that only Pete come yesterday with no one else.  I needed a debriefing of what to expect when I get home.  He told me that Sweetheart is still at our apartment and for some reason that made me sick.  I don’t have anything against her at all, but I don’t want to face her.  She’s a grating reminder, and I also don’t feel up to dealing with her own grief, since it pertains to mine.  I’ll do my best, but it will be really difficult.  When I think of that, I don’t feel ready to be out.  I’m afraid I’ll slip back into the darkness that brought me here.  But I have to try because I have a life to live.  Here has become an escape from that.  I have to man-up, go out there and get my college degree and live and move on and face shit.  Going to school will help to distract me.  I miss Gary Oldman (II) and she needs me.  I need to make things work out so people stop concerning themselves with me.  I need to be the go-to guy again.

Pete also told me that Valentina was cremated and no services were performed for her yet.  I actually went to the bathroom and puked when he told me that.  They were waiting for me, which is a good thing essentially, but I don’t know how I will be able to handle it.  Like I said before, it’s harder to deal with shit when everyone around you is looking at you through compassionate eyes expecting you to fall apart.  I hate that, though I appreciate it.  But I can’t believe she was cremated.  Of course I never thought about it, what they would do, about services, what would or wouldn’t occur while I was here.  I couldn’t think about it even if I wanted to.  I guess part of Sweetheart’s decision to cremate her was spiritual, but it also was on behalf of me, to hold off on the services until I would be ready to say goodbye.  I will never be ready to say goodbye, but we need to let her spirit go.  I just wish I could hold her one more time.  I wish I could hold her.

The theme song for this journal entry is “Seasons in the Sun” by Terry Jacks, because it’s probably one of the saddest songs ever written, and I’m afraid to go back and face everything and feel this way again.


previous Grimm 150: Stupiditum Disorder Impulsive Type & Sunshine in a Bag

next Grimm 152: Going Home

*note from Sage: the Terry Jacks version is below, however sometimes the video doesn’t work because YouTube says I’m in the wrong country to play it, hmmmm.  So I’ve also included the Nirvana version here:

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 141 - 155 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 150: Stupiditum Disorder Impulsive Type & Sunshine in a Bag

January 3, 2014

I’m going to leave the Institution on Monday.  It will be roughly a month since I’ve been here, but I’m not sure if I’m ready to face the world.  However, I had enrolled in school and Pete told me that classes start on 14th, but I haven’t even registered for my classes yet.  Going to school could be a good thing for me, keep me busy.  I can’t change my hours at work until I know what my schedule is.  Fortunately, I already almost have 2 years of college under my belt.  I’ve gotten all the requirements out of the way for the most part.  Funny thing though, I’m majoring in psychology, and I’ve been in a psych ward more than once.  I think that will help me do well at the job though, down the road.  It will allow me to incorporate humanity into my practice.  I also won’t fall for all the bullshit some clients tell they’re therapists.  I heard that you can’t be a good psychologist or someone in that field unless you’ve been on the other side.  They usually recommend counseling as a simple way of getting the feel for what a patient experiences.  Well I’ve been pretty far on the other side, so maybe I’ll be a fantastic fucking counselor or whatever I want to be.

When I get out, I’ll have about a week to get organized, register, buy the books, and alter my work schedule, then classes start.  I want to be sure I still have my Blues Mondays, and I want to be able to come back on Saturdays and visit Bogart.  After getting out, I’ll be dealing with those technicalities, and then I’ll commence school, so I’ll be too busy to have to face anyone.  I don’t want compassionate looks or scrutinizing glances.  I don’t want a consoling hand on my shoulder or arm or back.  I don’t want people to look at each other when I walk out of the room.  I mean, it’s nice that people care, but that stuff just embarrasses me and makes me feel pathetic.  Though, I guess if they didn’t do that shit, then I’d wonder if anyone cared at all and just feel bad for myself.  So I’m thinking now that people obviously caring is better, even if it makes me feel like a loser that they have to experience that kind of sympathy for me.

I haven’t been reading too much either, which is disappointing, but the fact that I’m working on a novel makes up for that.  And I’ll be doing plenty of reading in school.  What’s it going to take me, a year to complete Steppenwolf?  That is pathetic.  I blame the drugs and the Gangsta.  My therapist here told me I could register with the department at the college that helps people with disabilities.  I can take Gary Oldman (II) for classes, I can ask for more time on assignments I think…I’m not sure what I’d need, if anything, but she said that if I find I’m having trouble, we can figure out what accommodations will work best.  My disabilities would be: mild brain damage from the Gangsta that affects processing, substance abuse is a disorder which counts as a disability, depression because of Valentina, and PTSD, which still plagues me, oh and stupidity.

I think stupidity should be a disorder.  And I’m not talking IQ or being cognitively impaired, I’m talking about being just plain stupid, as in doing stupid shit, saying stupid shit, and being stupid to the point that you fuck up in life on a daily basis.  I would call the disorder, Stupiditum Disorder.  The more extreme cases would involve people who do the stupid shit without knowing that it’s stupid, the clueless people.  The first disorder is people like me who do it, but know it’s stupid, or recognize immediately when they’ve put their feet in their mouths, or at least learn from their mistakes.  The extreme group doesn’t recognize their own stupidity and doesn’t learn, and often they blame others and circumstance when fuck ups happen.  This group would be diagnosed with Stupiditum Oblivium Disorder or a milder version is Cluelessness Syndrome.  My case is more the Stupiditum Disorder, but when there’s the impulsive element, when otherwise you would think first and not say or do the stupid shit, but you lack or need to strengthen the impulse control, then it’s referred to as Stupiditum Disorder Impulsive Type.  That’s me.  It used to be reckless, but since the Gangsta, I have executive functioning problems and impulse control.  The mother fucker gave me ADHD.  Nah, I don’t really have that, but those are pretty much the symptoms.  Any behavior that prevents a kid from sitting still in the classroom, shutting up, and being a drone, is a symptom of ADHD.  If you’re not a programmable robot, you get diagnosed.  And you get diagnosed by teachers who have no degree that qualifies them to diagnose the common cold let alone a disorder listed in the DSM-IV.

My name is Wall Grimm and I went off on a tangent and engaged in a rant.  That means I have Tangentis Syndrome with Ranting Features.  Or ADHD (a damned hard dick) or KMFAS (kiss my fucking ass syndrome).  Yeah, majoring in psychology….good times will be had by all.

The theme song for this journal entry is Gorillaz “Clint Eastwood” because when I walk out of here, I’m walking out with this attitude while I’m wearing my Stepping Wolves and my Eastwood.  That’s how it’s gonna be.
“I aint happy, I’m feelin glad
I got sunshine, in a bag
I’m useless, but not for long
The future is coming on
I ain’t happy, I’m feeling glad
I got sunshine, in a bag
I’m useless, but not for long
The future is coming on
It’s coming on
It’s coming on
It’s coming on
It’s coming on”

–Gorillaz “Clint Eastwood”


previous Grimm 149:  De-Christmasifying, Missing Stuff, Reflections, & Grimm and Bogart Basket Cases

next Grimm 151: Preparing to Leave & Seasons in the Sun

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 141 - 155 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 27 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 149: De-Christmasifying, Missing Stuff, Reflections, & Grimm and Bogart Basket Cases

December 26, 2013

Well, I got through Christmas.  We didn’t have anything Christmas related here because of varying religions and also people often have tragic memories or views pertaining to Christmas.  The facility was decorated with generic seasonal stuff, mostly snowmen and Wintry things.  I could have gotten out on a pass to see family, but I didn’t want to see or talk to anyone.  It’s one of the main reasons why I’m in here.  I did not want to celebrate Christmas when it would have been Valentina’s first.  I had already gotten her some presents.  She and Gary Oldman (II) are the only ones I bought for prior to all this.  I would have gotten other people things, but it was still early yet.  I’m kind of a procrastinator shopper, but I do put a lot of thought into gifts.  When I get out, I don’t want presents.  I want to forget that Christmas occurred at all.  That will defeat my purpose.  Maybe it’s avoidance, but I don’t want to face it.  I told Pete to tell everyone to return anything that they got for me.  I know he understands and that he will.  My parents will have a hard time with that though.  I understand.  In their own way, they have to mourn me as a result of my mourning of Valentina.  When does grief become selfish?  Is it selfish of me to deny them the holiday with their son, in order to spare myself the grief of the death of my baby so close to Christmas?  Pete will talk to them, and hopefully they understand.  Maybe if they want to give me stuff, they can save it for my birthday or they can just unwrap it and give it to me little by little randomly throughout the year.  I think I’d be ok with that, even though deep down inside I’d know they were Christmas gifts.  That’s the best I can do to compromise.

Speaking of Gary Oldman (II), I miss her a lot.  I’m beginning to want to get out just to see her.  I feel awful that I’ve abandoned her.  Maybe she will hate me.  I think I will get out after New Year’s, because I really need to see her.  However, then I will feel guilty about abandoning Bogart.  I miss Howard too actually.  And I miss my harmonica.  I was thinking about something the other day.  I realized that there is so much media in the world today, online and everything’s reported on the news.  Little stories that are simple events in peoples’ lives, but have some kind of impact as a result.  Back in the day, these events were experienced by people, and they’d share the stories through word of mouth, passed down from person to person.  Someone would experience something cool and just tell it repeatedly.  They’d live their lives and as they got older, the story would become one of those great moments in their lives that would never be forgotten.  It would become a part of them.  Then, people who are Howard’s age, would encounter new people in life, like Howard encountered me.  And they share these stories that aren’t on the internet and have never been heard before, it only comes straight from the source.  There’s an incredible value in that, I think.  The world can benefit from hearing these things via internet, but something’s lacking when 100s of people are sharing the stories on Facebook.  It’s not personal, it seems less real, less intimate.  It seems like people just wanting their fifteen minutes of fame, so it seems less genuine.  They get sponsors and donors and college funds and publicity.  That’s not the same.  Not the same at all.  They get rewarded beyond their own internalization of the events.  Rewarded for living life.  Because life is just filled with random good and bad things.  Shit happens to everyone.  Some people make it global knowledge.  Others keep it amongst their intimate circle of friends.  I like Howard’s stories.  I like how pure they are, how genuine and raw.  I’m not a huge fan of the internet and Facebook and all that stuff anyway.  I’m kind of a retro guy.  This is why I don’t include any of it in my novel I’m writing.  And I can share some of my stories through Amon-Re, which is a disguise in a way, but comfortable for me.  It’s complex and there’s some irony in that I’m sure.  But I prefer it to sharing my daily activities on Facebook.  It’ll go in my writing, or in my journal, and that’s that.

Regarding Bogart, he’s going to continue getting the treatment three days per week for 6 weeks.  Then to prevent recurrence, he will get it once per week.  If they are fully effective, he might get out after the 6 weeks, and receive the treatments on an outpatient basis.  That depends on why he’s here though.  He told me he believes he committed a crime, but he’s confused about the circumstances.  Clearly, whatever he did, he was not mentally capable of making proper decisions, which is another reason why his mother is his guardian when he’s 22 years old.  In that way, he’s kind of not accountable.  He’s the kind to physically assault someone without being aware that it’s a bad thing, or understand consequences of the effects of that for himself or the victim.

Anyway, I actually think the treatments are working.  He agrees and says they aren’t as bad as he feared they would be.  He says he feels like crap for several hours after, and not quite himself for the rest of the day.  But the next day he feels normal, and he is definitely becoming less manic, less distracted, and he says the voices have gone away.  He still has his quirks, and he is still socially inept in many ways.  But I think that’s because his disorder prevented him from learning how to have social skills, prevented him from being human.  If he gets out eventually, I wonder if I’ll ever see him again.  I kind of want to.  I kind of feel like adopting him in some figurative way.  But I don’t know how possible that is.  I can’t foresee how the treatments will work and what he would be like outside of the institution, or how I could just live a normal life without having to be on top of his activities 24 hours per day.  I mean, would he be dangerous for Gary Oldman (II)?   I know for a fact he’d never hurt her intentionally, but I wouldn’t put it past him to cause her some injury because of something stupid he might do, some careless thing that he’s clueless about.  Again, ignorant of consequences or common sense.  He has no common sense whatsoever.  He needs social skills training.  I just decided that.  And I’ve been doing that in terms of Kendall Goth Girl.  But Bogart’s sex life and approach to girls and getting laid is a whole other story.  Let’s just say that if it weren’t for his looks and his accent, I don’t think his approach would otherwise get him very far.

The theme song for this journal entry is “Basket Case” by Green Day, because it’s so relevant for so many reasons, and because old school Green Day is fucking awesome.


previous Grimm 148: Dr. Keitel the Fraud, Bogart the Nutter, and the Goth Girl

next Grimm 150: Stupiditum Disorder Impulsive Type & Sunshine in a Bag

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 141 - 155 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 148: Dr. Keitel the Fraud, Bogart the Nutter, and the Goth Girl

December 23, 2103

A few things about some of the patients:

1.  There’s the guy who tries to be sneaky and jerk off by me and also attempts to grope me.  Well we were all up getting our lunch one day and I was in front of him, Bogart was beside me, and the guy reached around and grabbed my dick.  I turned around and shoved him and said “don’t ever fucking touch me again.”  Bogart grabbed the guy by the throat and pushed him up against the wall.  I had to tell him to stop, I could have easily punched the guy or something, but he’s like 70, I can’t do that.  Bogart let him go and he ran off and we didn’t see him for the rest of the day.

2.  Sadie still asks to see my dick.  But yesterday, again I said no, but Bogart finally said, “oi, ya can see mine if ya wan’.”  She said ok, so he held open his pajama pants and she looks down and says, “oooh it’s big.”  He was real happy about that.  She asked if she could touch it and he said yeah, but I had to intervene because that’s not right.  He called me a wanker and laughed.

3.  There’s this guy who reminds me of Christopher Lloyd in “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest”.  Looks like him, talks like him.  I asked him if he’s ever heard that before and he said no but he’s been called Reverend Jim.  He’s always trying to trade stuff for cigarettes.  Either so he can get cigarettes or to give someone else cigarettes.  I think he takes the cigarettes for himself in order to use as a trading tool for other people, since I’ve never seen him smoke.  It’s like he thinks he’s in prison or something, but the problem is, no one really has stuff to trade here besides stupid or personal things.  He showed me a collection of things he’s got in his room like underwear, socks, chap stick, books, photographs, stuffed animals.  Nothing is of use to him.  Trading seems to be just his hobby.

Now onto Bogart.  Bogart got the treatment Friday and he got it again this morning.  The only difference I notice is that it seems to be making him angry and feel defeated.  He wants to spend more time in our room because he’s embarrassed about the treatments.  I try to tell him that nobody knows or cares what’s going on, but he’s convinced they think he’s a “nutter”.  Yeah, he’s worried that crazy people think he’s crazy.  There’s no explaining to him the lack of sense in that.

He seemed so confident when I first met him.  Confident and happy, but manic.  Now this place is breaking him down.  He only reveals this insecure, fragile part of himself to me.  He’s not very self aware in general, but he’s self aware enough to put on a façade for the other people.  I did get him out of the room today and we hung out in the common room after he rested from his procedure, so that’s good.

His mother came on Saturday to visit and told him she researched Dr. Robert Keitel from Greenfield Psychiatric, Experimental Unit and figured out that the guy was a fraud.  She had no idea who could have known so much about Bogart or his case, but she never thought for a minute that one of the patients could possibly be involved.  After determining his lack of existence, she never made the phone call to stop the treatments.  I’m still thinking that I made an impressive attempt though and luckily Bogart agrees.

Anyway, whatever happens, I just want Bogart to be ok.  I wish I could believe that he will be able to live a normal life and function like a normal person–even though I know “normal” is not an appropriate way to express it, it’s what people understand–but the truth is I don’t think he will.  Whatever.  I’m going to try and ignore that pessimism and just hope that maybe the electroconvulsive therapy will be effective for him after all.

Regarding Kristin, she designed me this chart and didn’t explain it, but was certain I’d understand it’s purpose.

protection chart

Then she gave me this scrap from one of her notebooks with some of her own rejected words.  She thinks the words that she decides she doesn’t like, will prove useful for me.

words by kristin

Lastly, she gave Bogart this drawing she did of him, but again, he didn’t like it and passed it on to me.  It kind of looks like him, but it’s dark and kind of freaky so I understand why he doesn’t like it.  He has a more amiable presence and appearance for the most part.

bogart drawing

And, on a positive note, this cute goth girl arrived not too long ago.  She was being shown the common room and Bogart and I looked at each other, then we started laughing because we recognized that we had the same exact look in our eyes.  I haven’t laughed since we kicked each other’s asses.  I also haven’t thought about sex in a while, but that girl set something off.  My dick woke up as if from a long sleep and was like, “huh??  what??  what’s going on??”  Anyway, her name is Kendall.

So now it’s a matter of whether or not sex is possible here, and if it is, which one of us she’ll want to fuck.  With Bogart around, I admit I’ve got some competition.  But now that I’m thinking about it, I think I’ll let Bogart have her for two reasons.  My name is Wall Grimm and these are the reasons why Bogart can have the goth girl.


1.  I will be getting out of here sooner than him, if he’s ever able to get out.  I’ll have plenty of options when I get out.

2.  I definitely don’t want him to decide that he does want me to bend over because if he doesn’t get laid soon…well, he needs sex, that’s obvious to me. ‘Nuff said.

The theme song for this journal entry is “Paranoid” by Garbage because the cute goth girl looks exactly like Shirley Manson.


previous Grimm 147:  Grimm the Go To Guy

next Grimm 149:  De-Christmasifying, Missing Stuff, Reflections, & Grimm and Bogart Basket Cases

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 141 - 155 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 17 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 147: Grimm the Go To Guy

December 20, 2013

Shortly after I called Bogart’s mother, staff came in our room, took Bogart, and he came back with instructions about prep for the shock treatment.  He returned and said something like this, “wot da fock! it dinnit work, it dinnit work! its goin’a ‘appen! fuck fuck bugger wot we goin’a do Constable, ‘elp me stop it!”  He went on and on with a lot of words, basically repeating himself.  I still don’t know if I’m spelling the accent right, but you get the idea, Invisible Journal Reading People.  I tried to explain she hasn’t made the call yet.  He was determined to eat after midnight and before the procedure.

So when Wednesday morning came around, and there had been no opportunity for him to eat or drink anything yet besides grape juice, they came to get him.  It was a fight.  We were in the common room waiting for breakfast when they came for him.  He ran and fought and they didn’t want to sedate him prior to the anesthesia, but they called in more forces to attempt to contain him.  He was shouting out to me to help him.  I tried to step in and tell them to stop so I could talk to him and calm him down.  They wouldn’t listen to me, since I’m just a patient, and I myself was eventually hauled off and restrained, then sedated, because they thought I was antagonizing him.  He ended up strapped down on a gurney, shouting and crying before they wheeled him away.

He returned several hours later, in a wheel chair, brought into our room and helped onto his bed.  I asked if he was ok, they said it’s normal if he’s a little out of it for an hour or two, and that he’s having some muscle spasms which can happen sometimes, but they will wear off. Then they left.  He was lying on his side with his back to me so I went over to see him.  He was kind of twitching and just staring, and not looking at me.  I said, “Bogart?  Look at me.  How you feeling?”

He looked at me, not with the same vitality he always has, kind of weak, and he said, “they raped me.”

I said, “no they didn’t, they couldn’t have, you just had a procedure, you’re not serious, are you?”

“Feels like they raped me.”

“Physically feels that way or emotionally?”

He didn’t answer.

“Bogart, it was really traumatizing what you just went through, because you fought so much, it was against your will.  That is violating, so I’m sure you emotionally feel that way, it makes sense.”

“…yeah…”  Then he whined, “me ‘ead ‘urts. it ‘urts so bad.”

I got him a wet face cloth and put it on his head.  I suddenly felt like we were prisoners.  Not like in jail, but in some kind of unjust imprisonment situation.  Like hostages or prisoners of war.  It was us against them.  We were alone.  I tried to help but I have no voice, they won’t listen to a mental patient.  They don’t bother to individualize.  I mean, I’m mentally coherent, I’m just depressed.  But all the patients are treated the same regardless of the psychoses.  I’m treated just the same as the guy who eats his own shit.

Bogart leaned over and began to vomit on the floor.  This resulted in his shitting his pants.  I couldn’t move him while he was puking because he was resistant, but once he was done, I helped him up, walked him to the bathroom, helped him undress and get in the shower.  I tossed his clothes on the bed then I went and told the staff to come clean up the mess.  I went in the bathroom with him and shut the door.  He wanted to shower with the curtain open so he could see me.  He wasn’t really washing himself, instead he was just sitting on the floor of the shower, leaning against the shower wall.  He didn’t want me to leave.

After a little while he began to talk.  He said, “I don’ like to be raped.”

I just said, “yeah.”

Then he told me about when he was in England, his mother’s boyfriend used to rape him when he was a kid.  It went on for years until, when Bogart was about 11, he killed the guy.  He told me he cut the guy’s throat while he was sleeping.  Then he added that he was so angry, that he ended up cutting off the guy’s head and threw it outside into the street.  That’s when he first started receiving psychological treatment.  He said before that, he was quiet and timid.  He said the voices began telling him to kill the guy several months before he actually did.  The voices started years before that.  They were his friends, but he says that now they’re mean and cause him trouble.

His mood changed for a minute when he thought about sex.  He said there are no girls worthy of fucking besides the poet girl, I don’t think he knows her name is Kristin.  But I was like, “no, don’t even try.”  He mocked me saying she’s my girlfriend, but it was with a sense of humor.  I was like, “no. just no sex here.”  He said that he’s not “bent” but he’d fuck me anyway because I’m the prettiest thing here.  I told him to fuck off, that’s not happening.  He told me if I bent over, he could just close his eyes and pretend I was a girl.  I think he was serious.  “Fuck off Bogart, don’t even think about it.”  “Let me know if ya change ya min’.”  “Not happening.  Don’t bring it up again.”

I let him sit there until I peaked out and saw that they finished cleaning up everything, and they had hospital pajamas there for him folded on the bed.  I helped him stand and held his arm while he washed himself.  If I didn’t hold his arm he would’ve have fallen over.  When he was done, I shut off the water and handed him a towel and held his arm while he dried off.  He dressed while sitting on the bed, then laid down and fell asleep.

Bogart is a complete tragedy.  But by helping him and being there for him, it’s been benefiting me.  I’m beginning to feel less depressed.  I know that life is a series of good things and a bunch of shit.  It’s too painful to think about Valentina, but I know I will be able to get passed it, never forgetting, but I will be able to move on in my life.  I’m not sure when.  But having Bogart as a distraction helps to prevent me from dwelling and sinking deeper into that depression.  He’s given me a focus, and helping him makes me feel like the Grimm I used to be, before I got so heavily into drugs and became self absorbed.  I used to be the go to guy.  Then I was the guy no one could rely on.  I want to be the go to guy.  And though Bogart is a mess, at least he makes me feel like that again.


previous Grimm 146: Wall Grimm aka Dr. Robert Keitel of Greenfield Psychiatric, Experimental Unit

next Grimm 148: Dr. Keitel the Fraud, Bogart the Nutter, and the Goth Girl

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 141 - 155 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 20 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 146: Wall Grimm aka Dr. Robert Keitel of Greenfield Psychiatric, Experimental Unit

December 19, 2013

I think I want to get out of here after the new year.  I just don’t want to be around friends and family for Christmas.  It would have been Valentina’s first Christmas.

Prior to coming here, I was practicing filtering and controlling my abilities and I was making good progress.  But here, I’ve had to block all over again, because if I allowed the inner workings of the people here to enter into my psyche, then I will probably go insane.  However, that was in the beginning.  Now I’m learning to make it stronger than ever.  I’m finding that if I focus on creating and maintaining a shield around me, I’m able to know more and more people’s thoughts and experiences, without it penetrating me.  I understand what’s going on with them, know things, and the negative or unstable stuff just bounces off my shield.  But whatever, just more boring shit to write in my journal.

Kristin drew this picture of me, but it doesn’t look anything like me.  It says, “and the answer is in his knee.” hmmm

kristin image of grimm

Then she drew this picture for Bogart, it’s a manic dragon.  But he gave it to me because he doesn’t trust it.  He thinks it might have some kind of energy that will make bad things happen in his life.  He also doesn’t want to be manic anymore.

manic dragon

Then she gave me this poem.  She’s pretty intense.

other poem

Regarding Bogart, on Tuesday I had an idea.  First, I ruled out trying to talk to the doctors and staff on his behalf.  I’m just a suicidal/homicidal/recovering substance abusing/sex addicted/depressed patient with PTSD who appreciates a decent latte.  They would never listen to me, no matter how much sense my argument would make.  If they’re pushing for shock therapy for Bogart, then they truly believe that’s the best next approach in terms of treatment for him.  The first thing I needed was my cell phone, which the staff had.

I went to the staff/nurse station and asked if I could take it to my room to copy down all my contacts from my phone for the people I want to call.  We get to make 10 minute phone calls almost whenever we want, but the calls are monitored in terms of frequency and time limit.  They don’t want anyone monopolizing the one phone reserved for the patients.  The nurse said it was great that I finally wanted to use the phone, that I felt like talking but I couldn’t have it in my room, I could sit outside the station.  I said that it was a lot of numbers and I’d rather relax on my bed to do it since it will take some time.  She said no.  I was prepared for that, so I said ok whatever and sat down to do it.  That was Bogart’s cue to come over and do his thing.  He started talking to me, right by the nurse’s station, and barely took a moment for breath.  Talking and talking and finally the staff told him to go into the common room.  He said ok and left, but came back a minute later.  This happened three times, and the third time he began talking ceaselessly to the staff, since they were right there.  At that point, they caved and told me to just take the phone to my room, since they know he pretty much goes where I go.

Bogart and I went in there and I instructed him to be sure to shut the hell up.  I also had to explain that nothing I was about to say was true, that it was all lies to get what he wants.  I had to be certain that he wouldn’t believe the things I was about to say because it would probably make things worse for him if he did.  Then I dialed *67 to block my number and called his mother.  I told her I was Dr. Robert Keitel (as in Robert DeNiro and Harvey Keitel) and that I was calling from Greenfield Psychiatric, Experimental Unit.  I said, “my job is to review the cases of patients whose treatment has not been successful.  Many times the final alternative is electroconvulsive therapy, which is essentially inducing seizures.  Repeated seizure can cause brain damage, I’m sure you know.  Basically, the reason why I’m calling you, is to give you the opportunity to retract your initial agreement to use this treatment on your son Neil.  If you do so, there are any number of alternatives we can recommend in order to better help Neil and to avoid permanent injury to his brain.  If this brain damage occurs, the symptoms prior to convulsive therapy tend to be aggravated.  Also, on the more manic and aggressive patients, their psychoses tend to become significantly more pronounced.”

After bullshitting my way through a series of questions about the alternatives and how I learned about Neil’s case, blah blah blah, I convinced her to call his doctor to cancel the treatments.  She asked me what she should say to explain why she changed her mind.  I said, “you don’t need to tell him you spoke with me, in fact, I’d rather you didn’t.  Unfortunately in medical psychiatrics, it can often be run as a business, and in such cases as Neil’s, he would essentially be only a number.  You see, they need to use this therapy on a certain number of patients per year and gain success from it, in order to uphold the standards of it’s treatment.  For every failure they should have at least two successes.  It’s really all about the insurance companies and, well, money, to be blatant about it.  In other words, if you mention that you’ve spoken to me, then he might discourage you from following through with your new decision.  Since we offer safer, more effective alternatives, we are sort of in an adverse position against the psychiatric profession.  It could put some medical companies out of business.  However, that’s your choice if you want to mention me, but you probably would regret doing so.  What you can say is that you have rethought the matter and have chosen to do further research on the subject, and on alternatives, prior to agreeing to that therapy.”

Of course, I had no idea what I was talking about, but when you’re making shit up, it’s easy to make it sound good.  All the while I was talking to her, Neil was pacing around the room with his hands over his mouth trying not to laugh or speak.  He was very anxious and elated and in the most hyper and uncontained state.  It was the greatest struggle I’ve ever seen anyone make just trying to be quiet.

When I got off the phone with her, he looked at me, I said she was going to call the doctor to cancel the treatments.  He jumped across the room, almost freakin’ flew, and landed on me on the bed.  He grabbed me and was squeezing me so I almost couldn’t breathe.  Before I could push him away, he got up, grabbed my face, pointed directly at it, and said, “ya fuckin’ bugger! wot a mate! best I ever ‘ad! pure bloody genius! brilliant brilliant brilliant!  cheers cheers cheers me Constable!”

Anyway, Bogart can’t say I didn’t try.  Also, I don’t know much at all about psychiatric treatment, shock therapy, or Schizoaffective Disorder, so who knows whether or not the procedures would be best for him.  I tend to trust doctors.  The injustice only came in because he had no say in the matter.  But there’s only so much I’m able to do to help him, which is pretty much along the lines of nothing at all.

Theme song for today’s journal entry “Flagpole Sitta” by Harvey Danger, which was actually my favorite song when I was about 9 or 10 years old, something like that.


previous Grimm 145: Temporary Grimm Paper & the Manic Dragon

next Grimm 147:  Grimm the Go To Guy

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 141 - 155 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

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