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” 115: Wall Grimm’s Priority Shit & Aromatherashit

September 16, 2013

Ok I’m going to recap on my priorities.  My name is Wall Grimm and this is a self check in on getting my shit together.


1.  I need to square things with Paula, and make a choice that reflects what’s best for both of us:

Well, we’re done, I moved out and I’m living with Pete.  Though Paula calls and texts me often.  She wants me back, but I’m kind of with Iona, but we’re not in a committed relationship.  So I guess this priority is taken care of.

2.  Work more and be responsible for Sharly:

Done.  This week I begin my 12-8 shift, M-F.  And she’s leaving me alone in the store again as well as giving me more responsibility.  She says she may have me train for some managerial work, which says a lot.

3.  Look for a career, not just a job:

I have almost two years of college done, but I’ve begun to look into programs so I can at least work towards my B.A.  I’d have to start next semester.  I also have to consider whether or not I want to go full time or part time, and what my major would be.  I’m thinking psychology or writing.

4.  Quit smoking:

Still down to 5, more if I have the urge to drink.  Smoking at this time is keeping me in line.  This is a longer term goal.

5.  Start working out again:

Running 3-5 miles in the mornings before work and on the weekends.  Still doing 300 sit ups and 100 push ups, give or take.  Maybe I’ll increase if I have the time.

6.  Get a regular sleep schedule:

This one I’m doing because I find myself going to bed earlier most nights in order to avoid the temptation of going out and drinking and drugging.

7.  Take good care of Gary Oldman:

Definitely doing this, especially now that she’s my Emotional Support Service Animal.  I just don’t take her anywhere that might not be the best environment for her, like the bar the other night.  Though I don’t do so much bad shit these days, so she is with me 99% of the time.

8.  Start referring to Gary Oldman in my journal as Gary Oldman II or just Oldman so I don’t get confused, even though it makes me laugh to write Gary Oldman in certain sentences such as “Gary Oldman likes to bite.” :

Knocking this one of my list, because I don’t really give a shit anymore.

9.  Read more:

Ok what the fuck, this is a hard one.  I haven’t gotten very far with Steppenwolf because of my brain issues from the Gangsta.  But even before that, I was so fucked up all the time, I didn’t read much.  I haven’t read a book in about a year and that just sucks.  I like reading.  I guess I’ll have to set the time aside to do it.

10.  I suppose I’m expected to make ammends to people I’ve wronged, based on the 12 step programs I was involved in, but I haven’t been really doing any of that.  And yeah, now that I’m thinking about it, maybe I should go to AA or something so I’ll put that on the list:

Go to AA meetings:

Um, oops.

Ok so that’s where I’m at.  I guess there are two priorities there that I can take off my list.  That’s my shit.  Speaking of shit, I love when I eat papaya because later when I take a shit it smells like papaya.  Last night I had a papaya shit.  It is now what I refer to as aromatherashit.  I was like, “hey Pete come here and smell this.”  He didn’t know what I was talking about, so he came to the bathroom.  He was like, “wtf you’re asking me to smell your shit??”  I said no it smells like papaya.  He said, “no it smells like shit.”  But yeah, I was pretty impressed with it, so whatever.

So I had this great shit, felt like I dumped about five pounds of it into the toilet, then I went to bed.  And when I hit the bed I was like ohhhhh yeahhhh because sometimes your body just feels so awesome once you hit the sheets.  Mine felt extra good because of the emptiness from my aromatherashit.  I love that feeling.

I guess that’s it.  I think the last thing is that I am going to try to make one last effort with Emma.  But I’m going to wait until I’m enrolled in school.  I don’t know when she will finish school, but she wants to move to Spain or Italy.  I would go anywhere with her, if she’d have me.


previous Grimm 114: Special Agent Hasty McPudding and the Microchip

next Grimm 116: The Temptress

For a chronological list of links to all the journal entries, refer to the Journal Entries Index Page

For posts that aren’t journal entries, feel free to explore the Categories in the left side bar or the other pages above, including the Character Directories which list the posts each character is mentioned in.

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“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 114: Special Agent Hasty McPudding and the Microchip

September 14, 2013

Last night was Friday the 13th and Hasty, Patrick, Pete, and I were up for something crazy.  However, we’ve done the scary shit, we wanted something different.  So we decided to dress up like government agents and go into a bar in Boston.  Yes a bar.  However, I had no intentions of drinking.  I just wanted to see if I could be in a bar and not drink.  I thought the opportunity was a good one being with those three, they’re very supportive.  Also the government agent thing I hoped to use as a distraction.

And yeah we decided to do this, but on the way into Boston, we realized it might be kind of cruel to do this since there’s all that war talk and we recently had the bombings in Boston.  Some people might have thought some serious shit was happening and we didn’t want that.  So we decided to blantantly make it a joke.

First we dressed pretty much like 3 Mulders and a Scully.  Hasty was a very hot Scully btw.  Then when we got to the bar and walked in, everyone stared because we really stood out, and we looked authentic, until we started doing stupid shit.  I approached this girl and said, “exuse me, there’s something that needs to be investigated here.”  I took her straw from her drink and looked through it, tapped on it, said, “hello?” to it and put it up to my ear to listen.  I tossed it on the ground, “False alarm, don’t be nervous.”

Hasty had a swarm of guys around her saying, “I want to believe.”  And she was just saying, “There has to be a scientific explanation.”

Then the four of us began a conversation that went something like this:

“The secret quota fumigated the microchip.”

“But where is the microchip?”

“When the shit hits the fan no one comes out clean.”

“That man over there looks like Special Agent Macaroni.”

“I hear he’s the best agent in the A.N.U.S.”

“What’s anus?”

“Atomic Nipples and Unruly Sheep-fuckers.”

“Is he a sheep-fucker or is he in the infiltration department?”

“He’s a mole.”

“I hear he wears women’s underwear.”

“I wear women’s underwear.”

“That’s because you’re a woman, Agent Hasty McPudding.”

“That’s very true, agent.”

“Ok let’s get back to the emergency at hand, the microchip.”

“I think I swallowed it.”


“Well we’ll just have to cut you open.”


“Either that or when the shit hits the fan, then we’ll find the microchip.”

And it progressively got stranger and more juvenile but we were sure to throw in a lot of goverment and scientific type jargon.  We looked authentic but soon had a crowd around us listening to our conversation and knowing it was a joke.  There was this hot girl with an amazing body so I looked at her and said, “I think the microchip is hidden somewhere on your person.  You need to come with me so I can do a full cavity probe-I mean search.”

I took her by the arm and she actually came with me, but I didn’t know where I was going, I didn’t expect to get that far.  She said, “so are you going to probe me?”  I told her that first I need a cigarette, so she came out to have a smoke with me.  She said, “normal people have a cigarette after probing.”  She was funny, but she was throwing off my game.  She made me start thinking about sex so I wanted to sneak off and fuck her.  The problem was that it was distracting me from playing government agent which I was fully invested in to the point that I was ok being in a bar without drinking.  Now I’m thinking about sex and it won’t be as easy to be distracted from alcohol anymore.

Not long after we went out of the bar to smoke, Pete came out to check on me and her friend came out to check on her, since she just exited the bar with me–a strange guy posing as a government agent telling her she needed a cavity search.  I can see why that would be disconcerting to her friend.

It took every ounce of my will power to lean over to Pete and tell him I was having a hard time in the bar.  I had to battle that demon that tells me I can sneak drinks and no one will ever know and who cares if they do find out, at least it will be after I have a drink.  So I fought that and told Pete and he was glad I told him, so he went in and got Patrick and Hasty.  They came out and I said bye to the girl and her friend but they said, “don’t go, stay and hang.”  But I had to.

Then we went to a coffee shop, acted strangely, and took turns talking into pens.


previous Grimm 113: Wall Grimm’s Newest Epiphany

next Grimm 115: Wall Grimm’s Priority Shit & Aromatherashit

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

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“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 113: Wall Grimm’s Newest Epiphany

September 12, 2013

Iona has been spending most nights with me in my apartment with Pete.  Pete doesn’t mind, he expected I’d have company like that.  Since we lived together before, he knows I keep busy and now he minds less since he has his own room and isn’t sleeping on the couch.  Besides it’s his apartment that I moved into, not vice versa.

Anyway, so I was sleeping with Iona last night and I dreamed of Emma.  It was a romantic dream, and passionate, and realistic.  In my dream we were, well I won’t say fucking because it’s Emma so I guess I’ll say we were making love.  We were making love and it felt so good, but in the midst of it, I woke up to Iona giving me a blow job, which was hot to wake up to that.  I was disoriented at first thinking it was Emma and that my dream was real, but there wasn’t much thought going on in my head because my blood flow was busy elsewhere.  It all translated to blow job at that point, regardless who was giving it.  Iona is very skilled at blow jobs.  She told me once that she’s always kind of been insecure about her body so she’d usually give blow jobs to satisfy the guys and avoid having her body being seen or touched.  I said that was kinda sad but she said it made her feel good about herself that the guys enjoyed the blow jobs.  Selfishly, I’m glad she got all that practice.  Otherwise, I try to convince her that she has a beautiful body, and we have a lot of sex, so I guess she’s grown somewhat confident around me.

So yeah, I awoke to this amazing blow job and came really hard and then she cuddled into me after and said, “Did you like that?”  Hell yeah.  But after the burning, tingling, fucking ohhh yeahhh mmmmmm wore off I got sad because I was dreaming about Emma, and I wished that it was her.  Then, as I decided to give Emma one more shot and began to plot and scheme some way to at least get her to talk to me and at the very least just work things out and build the friendship again, Iona told me she loved me.

She said, “I love you cowboy.  I know you don’t love me, but that’s ok.  I just love you and I can’t help it.”

I said, “I wish I did love you, you’re perfect.  But I never love anyone.  I love one person, that’s it.”

“You mean girls, not family or friends.”

“Yeah, just one.  Wish it was you.”

“You just wish that because it’d be easier for you and more convenient.”

“Nah,” I said, but it kind of sounded true.”You’re perfect for me.”

“You just like that I call you cowboy.”

“Something like that.”

“I never loved anyone either.  Just you.”

And then I had an epiphany, which in my self-centered world was never able to break into my consciousness.  People fall in love all the time with that one person they can never have.  They can’t have them physically and/or emotionally, whatever.  But there’s always that one person that everyone has that they want and love and worship and pine for.  As the story goes in life, we usually never get that person.  Instead we move on and find love once we let go of the dream.  We fall in love with someone else that we can have.  Rare are those relationships when the person you pine for reciprocates mutually the love you have for that person.  If I got Emma, it would be one of those few miracle relationships.  But in thinking this, my idea is that the mutual love would always have to exist from the very beginning upon first meeting.  You can’t just grow to have that kind of love, it just has to happen naturally.  So I’m thinking that this kind of relationship with Emma is impossible, because I don’t think she ever loved me like that.  Maybe she could grow to love me and I would definitely settle for that, but I would always love her more and on a deeper level.  I’m ok with that, so I’ll still give it one last effort.

And then I thought of Iona and wondered if she has that kind of love for me, which it sounded like she does.  And I felt bad and obligated to love her but that just made me want to push her away and end it or make it just about sex with no emotional intimacies.  It would be easy to do that with her, just use her for sex and A+ blow jobs, but I don’t want to be that guy anymore.  I only used the girls who were willingly used with no expectations, at least this was my perception.  Maybe I’ve just been selfish and blind.  Iona would be willingly used but heartbroken in the process.  She’s an open book.  I pride myself on being so insightful, but long ago I blocked out those insights because it’s too heavy to carry around all that shit, especially as an inherently compassionate person.  It’s the compassion I demolished in order to block out the psychic recognition of other people’s thoughts, feelings, experiences.  I became cold and careless as a defense mechanism.  Iona enlightened me to this last night.

I wanted to tell her all these ideas but then I’d have been so exposed and open and I’d regret it later.  No one knows me that well and I like it that way.  I don’t know if anyone knows how I really think, what goes on in my mind.  I like to talk about external shit like movies, music, books.  I enjoy philosophical conversations.  But I reveal nothing about myself and so everything that I ever say is superficial.  Except when I’ve told Emma I love her.  And that brings me back to the subject of love.

I don’t even love people in a friendly way because that’s too much of a burden.  I care about people and I try to be respectful, when it doesn’t get in the way of my selfishness, but otherwise I remain detached, because I can’t handle the intensity of having that much concern or empathy.  This detachment is contrary to my nature.  What the fuck is my problem?

So Iona tells me she loves me and she’s only ever loved me and that’s how I feel about Emma.  I hate the thought that I might cause anyone to pine like I pine for Emma.  But after all this thought, my only response to Iona is, “Well thanks, you’re a sweetheart.”


previous Grimm 112: Gary Oldman (II)’s Important Job

next Grimm 114: Special Agent Hasty McPudding and the Microchip

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 94-115 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | 19 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 112: Gary Oldman (II)’s Important Job

September 9, 2013

Every now and then I go somewhere and they won’t let me bring Gary Oldman (II) in, which pisses me off, but I understand.  So on Friday, my mother registered her as an Emotional Support Service Animal for me because I told my mom that Oldman helps to keep me out of bars.  She also helps to keep me responsible, because I have to prioritize her and make choices based on what’s best for her environment.  This is especially true if she comes with me every where.  I didn’t take her to the Zombie Picnic though because I thought it’d be too scary for her.  I did take her for ice cream, so she went viral with me.  The Kilted Cowboy with a Kitten on his shoulder.

Anyway, Oldman is going to be getting a tiny service animal vest which is awesome.  I don’t think I’ll have her wear it unless I’m going somewhere that wouldn’t otherwise allow her in.  I might carry it with me sometimes if the day is unplanned.  She is already wearing a leash but the vest is more material and she might not like it.  She’ll also have an ID card in case she refuses to wear the vest.

One thing my mother needed was a note from my psychiatrist that I haven’t seen in a long, long, long time.  He was just someone I saw rarely but I saw a regular counselor but I don’t anymore.  I have to be diagnosed with a significant mental illness in order to qualify so he needed to talk to me, since it’s been a long time.  He squeezed me in for an appointment on Friday, which is rare in the psychiatric world, but my mother has amazing persuasive powers.  I kind of take after her in that way.

So yeah I went in there and decided to talk more than I ever have before to any professional.  My objective was to be able to get Gary Oldman (II) to be with me whenever, and wherever.  This means that even when I’m in an establishment, she can be walking around on her leash, and not always have to be on my shoulder.  I put her up there to keep her safe though, and also because she does like it.  And yeah so after talking with me, the psychiatrist diagnoses me with PTSD.

When we were leaving the office, my mother was like “PTSD?  What do you have PTSD from?”  I said “nevermind.”  But she stopped walking and I kept walking, so she said “Grimm, stop.”  I did and she approached and said, “What happened?  What happened to give you PTSD?”  I told her I had already talked about it once today and I didn’t want to talk about it anymore, then I walked away towards the exit of the building.  When I turned back she was wiping away tears and fighting back more.  And she wonders why I tell her nothing, even from when I was a kid, I never told her anything.  Why would I want to hurt my mother and make her cry?  That’s what would happen if I told her half the shit I should be saying.  But it ain’t happening, no way.

I had to turn back and hug her and say, “It’s ok mom, I’m ok.”  And she apologized for not being a good enough mother to keep me emotionally healthy.  I told her I’m my own person, she’s not responsible for bad choices I make.  Then she said that she was sure I didn’t choose to be a victim.  “Mom, why would you say that?  What makes you think I was a victim?”

She replied, “I feel it.”

And I know what she’s talking about because I feel things too, we’ve got the Romani blood, and we have special abilities, which I think is a part of my problem sometimes.  I constantly need to block other people’s energies from breaking in my spiritual shield and affecting me negatively.  It’s weird but yeah, very valid.  She has that too.  However, I said, “I’m no fucking victim, I can tell you that much.”

Then Gary Oldman (II) as she was sitting on my shoulder gave me this look like she was so confused by my mood shift.  And she has these funny little eyes that don’t always line up so she looks confused half the time.  So I laughed because she’s fucking cute as hell.  My mother laughed when I did and said, “see that, she does emotionally help you.”

“Well no shit mom that’s why we’re doing this right? ….sorry.”  I hate when I talk to her like that, but sometimes she doesn’t make any sense.  My mother’s a strong woman, so telling her shit wouldn’t break her.  But she’s this intense, passionate Sicilian, so it’s just kind of overboard, with the “Oh my God, my God” and “Mama mia” and the arms flailing.  When my mom’s upset it’s like being in an opera.  And she’s an awesome mom, but I just don’t want to make her cry, that’s all it comes down to.  Even when I was a little kid, there were things I just couldn’t tell her because I didn’t want to make her cry.  And now I have Gary Oldman (II), my Emotional Support Service Kitten.


previous Grimm 111: Gunslinging Grimm the Kilted Cowboy Goes Viral

next Grimm 113: Wall Grimm’s Newest Epiphany

For a chronological list of links to all the journal entries, refer to the Journal Entries Index Page

For posts that aren’t journal entries, feel free to explore the Categories in the left side bar or the other pages above, including the Character Directories which list the posts each character is mentioned in.

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“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 111: Gunslinging Grimm the Kilted Cowboy Goes Viral

September 7, 2013

Thursday I got out of work at 5ish and I went with Iona, Morgan, and Danika to get some ice cream.  They were calling me the Kilted Cowboy because I was wearing my kilt which I haven’t worn in a long time.  I left it at my old apartment and when Pete moved out, he brought all my shit with him.  He’s a good friend.  So I was wearing my kilt with my Stepping Wolves and my Eastwood.  Hence the kilted cowboy.  Iona still calls me cowboy anyway.

Morgan brought along her new camera so she was photographing and videoing everything.  She and Danika had gotten their ice creams and sat at a nearby picnic table while we were waiting for ours.  I got mine and Iona got a frappe so that took the longest.  I got an ice cream cone, three huge scoops of chocolate.  Once Iona got her frappe, we started walking towards Morgan and Danika.  Morgan was videotaping.  And the next sequence of events she posted on her fb and Youtube and though I hate the fucking expression, it actually did go viral to the point that she’s gotten calls from ad companies and shit like that including people who want to interview me.  No freakin’ way.  I’m not interested in being an internet sensation–another expression I hate.

My name is Wall “Gunslinging” Grimm the Kilted Cowboy and this is the sequence of events that have exposed me globally.


If I begin by saying a huge wind came and you invisible journal reading people recall that I’m wearing a kilt, you might think you know what happened.  Well that’s part of it, but not all.

This huge wind whooshed through the parking lot.  There were tons of people, families, children.  Iona and I approached Danika and Morgan, who was videotaping our approach.  This huge wind came and since it’s been a long time since I’ve worn a kilt and I have my slow processing issues from the Gangsta, my first thought was, “shit, my hat.”  So I put my hand on my head to hold my hat on.  Morgan and Danika laugh and you can hear Danika saying, “oh yeah, don’t lose that hat cowboy” and Morgan said as my kilt blew up, “look at that gun,” to which Danika replied, “he’s a gunslinger” at which point you not only hear them laughing but other people nearby laughing or saying “oh my god” and stuff like that.

So the wind blows, I grab my hat, the wind blows up my kilt and my other hand has the ice cream cone in it.  When my kilt blew up I tried to stop it with my ice cream cone hand, but I missed as it whipped up.  Then the next part happened so fast.  I missed the kilt but I realized that I wasn’t wearing underwear so maybe I should cover my junk.  Keep my hat, cover my junk, the people behind me would just have to deal with the sight of my ass.

I bring my hand down, miss the kilt, bring it to conceal my amenities, but within those seconds I could feel the scoops of my three huge scoop ice cream cone about to fall off the cone.  I wasn’t willing to give up the ice cream, so as I moved my hand down I switched my grip from the cone to the ice cream itself, with the bottom part of my hand holding the top of the cone.  Then I could feel the cone was about to fall, so I pressed the ice cream against me to hold the cone. In other words, I smushed the ice cream against my balls.  Then the cone dropped.  And this was very clear to everyone as the wind continue to blow the kilt up.  I let go of the ice cream and finally brought the kilt down with my arm and held it there.  Then I went over to Morgan, who was still filming, and Danika, while Iona went to get me a new ice cream cone and some napkins.

Danika and Morgan were laughing so hard, they were like, why didn’t you just take your hat off and bring that down in front of you.  I was like, shut up.

And now the video is all over the internet, global, millions of hits, or something like that.  There’s a version that has my junk clouded over, then there’s the version at 18+ sites when you can see it all.  Thanks Morgan.  So now I’m Gunslinger Grimm, or the Kilted Cowboy, or the combination of the both.  And the term viral, just means that the internet is a disease that spreads.  I really don’t like technology very much.  But I do have a sense of humor so I’m not embarassed, in fact, I’m proud of my junk, I’ve got nothing to hide.  And the ice cream place gave me a new ice cream for free, because they saw the whole thing.  But they put it in a dish, bigger scoops than before, two huge scoops and the cone sticking up in the middle.  Funny.


previous Grimm 110: Rejected Grimm & Cappuccino

next Grimm 112: Gary Oldman (II)’s Important Job

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 94-115 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 10 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 110: Rejected Grimm & Cappuccino

September 4, 2013

I called Amy Monday because I felt like doing something, but Iona couldn’t go since she had plans with her family for Labor Day.  I asked Amy if she wanted to go for a hike or something.  She said no for two reasons:  1.  It was kinda rainy.  2.  She doesn’t even know me so she’s not making plans for us to go off into the middle of the woods alone.  She wanted a public place so we decided on Barnes & Noble.  She also said she wanted to meet there in the front of the store.

So I got there a little early and was kind of frustrated that I forgot to bring Steppenwolf.  I wanted to read while I was waiting and I didn’t want to have to buy a new copy.  Instead I just smoked a couple butts off to the side and people-watched.  When I saw her, I said, “Hey Amy.”


I put out the butt, approached her, and leaned in for a quick kiss.  She kissed back, with her eyes open, mouth kind of stiff.  “What’s wrong?”

“How old are you??”


“Oh my god.”

I was like, what’s the problem?  She said I was way too young, and I looked even younger than 24.  I thought I told her my age when she mentioned she was 35, but now that I’m thinking about it, I think our conversation was interrupted by John when he wanted to get a smoke off me.  Then we just resumed talking but a change of subject.

I told her that I just was in a relationship with a 50 year old woman.  She had this weird sympathetic look and said, “That’s so wrong.”


“She’s old enough to be your mother.  And I’m old enough to be your…college professor.”

“College professor?”


Turns out she’s a literature professor at Boston College, and I am the age of many of her students.  She said I looked older with the zombie makeup on and had assumed I was around 30 also because I just “seemed” older.  I asked her if she thought she could get passed it.  She said definitely not, she was impulsive, caught up in the theatrics of the Zombie Picnic, she made a mistake.  I was like, well let’s go to the King Richard’s Faire this weekend and get caught up in the theatrics of that.  She laughed like I was five and said, “you’re very sweet, but no.”  I knew then that she just viewed me as if I was a student of hers.  She put those boundaries up clearly.  Boundaries, boundaries.

She apologized and said she made a mistake and should go.  I was like we should just go in and have a cup of coffee.  It was kind of disconcerting to be rejected because of my age.  Or just to be rejected at all by anyone besides Emma.  She succumbed to my request and we went inside.

She got a decaf latte.  I got a cappuccino.  Cappuccino’s kind of suck because you get the cup and it feels pretty much empty since it’s 3/4 foam, yet the foam tastes so freakin’ good.  I like to put vanilla, chocolate, and cinamon on it.  Then I stir that into the foam and eat the foam a tiny bit at a time with the wooden stirrer.

Amy did most of the talking, because I don’t talk much, but I like intelligent conversation.  Yet I don’t like to talk about myself at all since I’m with myself every day so the subject is kind of redundant and monotonous.  But then she threw out there, “so tell me about yourself.”


She laughed and said again, “you’re very sweet.”

She kept those boundaries up well though, I knew there was no breaking them.  I could tell that right off, so I didn’t try to.  I also figured I’d never see her again, so I decided to use this situation to my advantage.  I told her about Emma, vaguely, and asked her for advice, in a subtle way that wasn’t really asking, but it was more like I was directing her to offer some.

She told me that if a girl doesn’t want a guy, there’s no real pursuing it.  The more a guy pushes, in most cases, the more distance the girl will put between them.  And this is especially true if they were friends.  Because girls value their friendships with their guy friends, and don’t like the lines to be crossed.  So I was like, “basically there’s nothing I can do.”

She said that it sounds like Emma and I need to talk.  We need to communicate and resolve our relationship because we’ve been friends for so long it would be a shame to waste it.  I agreed with that, but the problem is, she pused me away as a friend.  I’m also having a difficult time maintaining a friendship with her when I can’t just put my arms around her whenever I want.

Amy said, “I don’t know.  You need to talk.”

Anyway, so Amy and I spent over two hours at Barnes & Noble.  She had worn kind of a low cut shirt, but was persistantly holding her arm across her chest since she found out my age.  Finally I told her that it was obvious she was uncomfortable being with me and I was just going to leave, no big deal.  She decided to leave as well so we walked out of the store together.  I walked her to her car and asked her to kiss me one more time.  She said no.  I said, “did you like kissing me when I was a zombie?”  She hesistated but said yes.  I said just one kiss and then we’ll go our separate ways in life.  She decided to oblige me.

I gave her a nice kiss, slow and gentle, but passionate.  She asked if I ever kissed Emma like that, I was like yeah.  She said, “then the girl is nuts.”  I said no, that I was just a loser, in all honestly.


previous Grimm 109: The Zombie Picnic

next Grimm 111: Gunslinging Grimm the Kilted Cowboy Goes Viral

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 94-115 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 109: The Zombie Picnic

September 1, 2013

Yesterday, Hasty, Patrick, Pete, Danika, Ayla, John, Jeff, Jay, Morgan, Randy, and I had a Zombie picnic.  Iona couldn’t come because she was working.  We all dressed up and got special effects makeup on to look like Zombies and went to the park.  We went to a wooded area that had tons of rocks and boulders to hang out on and we put a sign that said “ZOMBIE PICNIC” by the area where people walk.  And, we parked on a high road that no one really uses so nobody saw us coming.

It was cool deciding what kind of Zombies we wanted to be.  We picked types of people and dressed like that person, then we had to decide what kind of injuries we had or how decayed we were.  Hasty opted for a Zombie bite on her breast.  I had a bite on the arm and I was dressed as a baseball player, except I had no hat because we figured it would have fallen off.  I gave myself from about a few weeks to a month’s worth of decay.  We tore up our clothes a little and dirtied and bloodied them.  We’d been planning this since Thursday.  We each did our own costume and we each made some bloody looking food for the picnic.  Morgan went to the Halloween store and spent tons of money on a dead body, one of those fake ones for a decoration.  She carved out parts of the corpse so we could put the food there.  She carved out the chest where I had all the vegetarian stuff.  It was seitan and tofu.  She carved out the abdomen where there were sausages and beans.  Parts of the legs and arms had chicken.  And the brain area had a trifle kind of pudding cake thing for dessert.  Everything either had a sauce that looked like blood or was colored with red food coloring.  We were all drinking cherry juice.  It was really disgusting.

Some people paused and tried to figure out if we were real.  Other people just knew we were fake and thought it was awesome so they took pictures.  Some people tried to have a conversation with us to ask us questions about what the food was and everything.  We just moaned at them because we didn’t want to blow our cover.  We stayed in character.

I stayed in character until I went around behind a big boulder for a moment alone with a cigarette.  Then I heard a woman with little kids passing by the group and she didn’t sound so sure whether we were real or not.  It’s amazing how quick people are to believe in the possibility of zombies.  They think they doubt it, until they see a zombie, then they’re like, is it real?  This is exactly what the kids were asking her, “is it real?” and she was like, “…no…” completely unsure.  So as they began to pass by me, the little kids caught sight of me, and I said “it’s fake.”

They had this second of relief and humor on their face until their mother was startled by my voice and screamed, which in effect startled them, causing them to scream.  They ran a little bit away and turned.  The woman had a friend straggling up behind.  Is straggling a word?  It sounds stupid.  Anyway, she was straggling and laughing.  She was like “this is brilliant.”  I said, “wanna join?”

“No,” she gestured toward her friend, “we’re walking.”

“See you on your way down.”

And then she gave me that look that women give when they’re kind of flirty and replied, “maybe you will.”  I read into that, but I was thinking, I look like a zombie, that’s weird.  But I guess the zombie girls were kind of cute in their own way so I get it.  Morgan was a kickass zombie.  She was a witch from 1600’s who had been turned into a vampire, but then killed and reanimated to be human again centuries later, only to be bitten and become a zombie.  Yeah scientifically it doesn’t make any sense, and she left out the werewolf, but whatever.  I was just a baseball player.  I wanted to be a Red Sox player but it was too expensive to buy a jersey then destroy it, but in retrospect I kind of regret it.  I’d say I’m too short to be a Red Sox (sock), but I’m taller than Pedroia anyway.

So yeah we just moaned and devoured this corpse and it was hilarious.  We’d talk and stuff and it was hard not to laugh, but whenever someone would walk by we got back into character.  Those women with the little kids came by and they were laughing but kind of rushing by, then I approached in a staggering kind of zombieish way, moaning.  She paused, and I walked over to her like a person and I said, “stay.”

She hesitated and looked at her friend.  Her friend was like, “stay if you want, we’ll be down by the playground.”

So she stayed.  She was a little uncertain, since not only were we a group of strangers, but we were a group of zombie strangers.  She asked if we were a theatre troupe.  We said no, we were just strange.  Creative, but strange.  She said she thought it was awesome.  Her name was Amy and she was 35, but she seemed more like 25, in looks and in behavior.  She was tentative about eating the food so she smelled it at first and then began to eat it thinking it was really good.  And she ate my food, because she’s vegetarian too.

We spent about three hours there, we even went on a Zombie Stroll, and we had wanted to do a Zombie Bonfire but we were kind of sick of being in the makeup by the end of three or so hours.  Amy hung around with us that last hour.  She and I were leaning against a boulder picking the heart and lungs out of this corpse and eating it, and I leaned in and kissed her.  I guess I’m kind of forward like that, but when I get the vibe I go for it.  She began to kiss me back but then she started laughing because she said it was bizarre kissing a zombie.  I smirked but then kissed her again.  We were kissing when her friend came back with the little kids.  She was like “what are you doing?! are you nuts?!”  Amy laughed, “I guess so.”  She had zombie makeup and blood all over her face.  She gave me her number before her friend dragged her off.

Anyway, so we packed up the corpse and then we took off.  We were in the Mystery Machine, all crowded in.  We drove to a different park, parked the van, then all came out of the back in a small horde, wandering around and moaning for a little while.  Then we went to the mall.  Can’t be a zombie and not go to the mall.  Security kicked us out, said they’d have us arrested for disturbing the piece or performing without a permit.  It was a compliment to know we were professionally disturbing.


previous Grimm 108: An Altered State of Humor

next Grimm 110: Rejected Grimm & Cappuccino

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 94-115 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 108: An Altered State of Humor

August 30, 2013

When I was 11 years old, it was Easter Sunday, and an uncle got me drunk off my ass.  He wasn’t my blood relative, just the husband of one of my aunts on my mother’s side.  They had gotten a divorce a few years back but he still came to all the holiday celebrations.  Later in life when I was in high school, I’d end up at his apartment sometimes getting high.  He was always pretty cool, definitely a hippie. So on that Easter Sunday, he was slipping me some champagne and an occasional glass of straight vodka.  I’d slip into the hall with him and he’d top off my drinks.  My mom was telling me to stop drinking.  I’d say, “but it’s only my second one.”  That was regarding the champagne.  The vodka I tried to pass off as water.

I don’t remember how much I drank or how long this went on but the next thing I remember was waking up on the floor by a couch in a pool of my vomit, and beginning to vomit more.  I must have gone to crash there, or I was really drunk and maybe my mom brought me there to lie down.

Anyway, then people grab my arms and hold them around their necks and kind of drag me off to the bathroom.  One was my uncle, the ex-husband, the other guy I didn’t know.  I was like “who the hell is this guy??”  My mother said, this is your aunt’s new boyfriend.  The aunt who divorced the other guy.  I was like, “oh hey nice to meet you” but I was so drunk I don’t know if the words came out all right.

Speed up to age 15 when I had a diferent uncle die.  The day before the wake, a few friends of mine and I planned to get a case of beer.  Three friends were supposed to come over my house and we were just going to hang around in my room and get drunk.  We planned it all out.  I was home alone for a little while so I called a cab company to deliver the beer.  When the guy got there, he was like, “um, I’m gonna need to see some I.D.”  I said, “I don’t have one, but you’d better hurry up and give me that beer before my dad gets home.”  That threw him off I think because he was like, “oh, yeah, ok.”  He gave me the beer and I gave him the money including a decent tip.

I took one of my dad’s coolers from the basement and I put the beers in there, filled it with ice, and stuck the cooler in the back of my closet.  Later when my friends came over, we all each had only one beer.  They didn’t stay long but while they were there I couldn’t figure out why they barely drank, because not one of them finished their beer.

The next morning I was thinking to myself, I better get rid of this beer.  I had put the three unfinished bottles standing up in the cooler, they were nearly full.  I started with those and drank them down right away because they were kind of flat by the next morning and I wanted to drink the good shit.  Then I started drinking the rest.  I was drinking one right after the other.  Meanwhile, my family was preparing for my uncle’s wake.

Again, I don’t know how long I was drinking for but I do remember fragments of the wake.  I remember sitting there very quietly, kind of brooding, but really fucked up drunk, and imagining in my head that I probably appeared fine because maybe people thought I was in mourning.  Some people spoke to me and I guessed I was speaking fine, but I was probably very clearly drunk.  I had to take a piss at some point so I went downstairs at the funeral home.  At the bottom of the stairs, printed on the wall was the word “RESTROOMS” and on the opposite of that wall were the men’s and ladies’ rooms.  Well I saw RESTROOMS so I started pushing on the wall, thinking it was a doorway to lead to the bathrooms.  Yeah, very fucked up.  A woman was like, “uhh the bathrooms are right there,” and pointed behind me.  I laughed hysterically for a minute, “bwahahahahahahahaaaaa I thought the wall was just a big door!”

I don’t remember anything after that until I got home and I was puking my guts out and saying to my parents, “I’m not an alcoholic.”  Then I told them about the beer in my closet and I said, “you can have the rest of the beer, Dad.”  He was like “well thanks but there’s only one beer left.”  Basically I drank almost 22 beers.  I finished one beer the day before.  One beer was left over.  Three beers had a few sips out of them, so they were just about full beers.  So I was puking and saying to my parents, “don’t worry I’m not an alcoholic,” even though they didn’t raise the issue.

Yeah so those are just two examples of heavy drinking when I was a kid.  There are many more stories.  I’ve always thought they were funny.  I’ve always thought the drug stories were funny.  Like the time when I was 14 and my friend and I smoked some pot laced with opium.  We were driving the winding, rural roads with no streetlights, heading to a party.  We were speeding and I remember my door flew open for some reason and I half fell out of it, my middrift and up hanging out, I was facing the road.  I was laughing, it was awesome, the pavement looked so cool.  We made it to the party and we were sitting in a big chair, the two of us squeezed in, just staring up at the ceiling.  A girl came over with blue glitter and sprinkled it over our faces saying, “it’s opium, it’s opium, it’s opium.”  We went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror to wipe it off, but it was like rivers of sparkling blue just flowed out of our eyes.  Every time I got high after that, I hallucinated bigtime.  I’ll have to describe those sometime.  I had flashbacks for about 7 years, I think it’s only been a couple years since I haven’t had one.

Anyway, these stories were always pretty funny to me.  My friends and I would laugh and joke about this shit.  But now, given that I got out of detox earlier this year, and I struggle to not drink and drug, I think my sense of humor is changing.


previous Grimm 107: Swimming Naked, Moving Out, & Being Boring

next Grimm 109: The Zombie Picnic

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 94-115 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 107: Swimming Naked, Moving Out, & Being Boring

August 28, 2013

So I went to the beach on Saturday with Hasty, Patrick, and Pete.  We went to Hampton and we pitched a tent and built a fire on the beach, it was cool.  We had about 15 people joining us around our fire.  We went swimming at night which is always freaky.  I’m always afraid there will be a shark or jelly fish or something, because night is often when they come in since there are less people.  Well, at least that’s the way it used to be, now sharks consider people food so they come in whenever they want.  Lots of sharks and shark attacks at the Cape this year.

But yeah a bunch of us swam at night and even went skinny dipping, so I got my naked swimming in.  And the cool thing about swimming in the ocean at night, whether or not you’re naked, is how black the ocean is, you can’t see anything in the water, that’s what makes it so freaky.  You can’t see anything where you’re standing or when you look out.  It’s awesome, but potentially feeding time.  Hasty and I got out of the water at the same time at one point and then just stopped and looked at each other, facing each other.  Then we laughed like little kids and were like, “we’re seeing each other naked heeheehee.”  And yeah, seeing Hasty naked was the highlight of my summer.

Anyway so yeah, got back from the beach on Sunday, then told Paula I’d be moving in with Pete some time this week.  But that’s only temporary because I want to find my own place.  Then she says, “oh but what about Gary Oldman, because she need consistency and routine, not jumping around from place to place.”  I figured this was a ploy to get me to stay at least a little longer, but I replied, “She’s the cat of a gypsy she has to get used to it.”

Paula then said, “you’re not a gypsy, I don’t know why you keep saying you are, you’re not off out and about in caravans or living that kind of life.”

I was like, “I have Romani blood, enough said.”

That really pissed me off because it was like she was trying to obliterate part of who I am.  Then I was determined to leave more than ever.  She could sense it so she cried.  She’s not the mature, older woman I thought she was.  Did I do this to her?  I didn’t really do anything.  She’s just gradually broken down.  I feel bad, but I don’t know how much to blame I am.  I think I’ve tried to be honest, even if I wasn’t fully invested in the relationship.

Anyway, I’m sick of thinking about it, so I’m moving on.  Today is Wednesday.  I moved in with Pete on Monday.  I didn’t have much shit that I wanted to take with me.  Just some clothes, cat supplies, my Eastwood and my Stepping Wolves, some cd’s, journals, shit like that.  I had a backpack and two boxes.

It’s actually cool being back with Pete and I’m glad to be back working at the bookstore.  It’s kind of like my life is getting back on track in a backwards kind of way, as in going back in time.  At some point I’ll have my own place again.  I like living alone, but who knows, maybe it’s better if I don’t.  I mean, if I feel like going to the liquor store, who’s going to stop me if I can’t stop myself?

I kind of miss Paula’s yard though and her firepit.  At Pete’s he doesn’t have a yard like we did at my old place because he lives in a complex.  Paula calls me every day and she wants to see me sometime this weekend.  I told Iona that I’m not ready for a committed relationship so if I end up fucking Paula I won’t be cheating.  But I think Iona likes me too much and she’s very insecure.  I don’t like to be the basis of someone’s self assurance.  Her friend with the great tits texted me yesterday when I was working and Sharly said she had the feeling that I was being set up.  In other words, she thinks that Iona was there and was testing me.  The girl was like, “ur hot btw.”  I texted back, “yeah u too.”  I don’t care if Iona is testing me or not, like I said I don’t like to mess around with the friends of the girls I’m involved in.  That’s a boundary I try to keep because crossing it is a huge mistake.  Unless of course they’re shooting for a threesome.  A guy can dream…

I haven’t picked up Steppenwolf in a while, so much for reading.  I will, I’ve just been too distracted.  As I’m reading it, I feel like I read it before a long time ago, it’s so familiar.  Maybe some of the descriptions just kind of remind me of me, even though I’m not a 50 year old guy.

Pete and I saw “We’re the Millers” last night and that movie was pretty funny.  Jennifer Aniston is hot as hell, damn.  That guy Ed Helms is pretty funny and I think they’re doing a remake of “Vacation” but I don’t know.  Chevy Chase can’t be topped in that role.

Shit, I’m just rambling.  Boring, boring, fucking boring.  My name is Wall Grimm and I’m boring today.  All work and no play makes Grimm a dull boy.

I’ll just say one more thing, then I’ll shut the fuck up before I write anything else that my future self will be annoyed by.  Last night the sky was aqua and the clouds were pink.  It was like a painting.  Freakin’ beautiful and inspiring.  It made me want to do something great.  Do something in the world that I can be successful with.  Not having a day to day job, but I want to write and just get the most from life.  I don’t want to waste anymore time sidetracked by addictions or even sex.  I have shit to say to the world.  I have a lot of shit to say.


previous Grimm 106: Adriana21

next Grimm 108: An Altered State of Humor

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 94-115 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 29 Comments

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