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

May 7, 2014

 

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

WALL GRIMM’S FUTURE POTENTIAL DOMESTICISMS

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

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

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

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

5. My ideal situation would be living alone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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previous Grimm 183: Grimm the Abstract Gypsy Caballero Personal Protagonist http://wp.me/p41c99-Pb

next Grimm 185: Iona, the Theme of Random, & Psychotic Mental Vomit http://wp.me/p41c99-Qq

For a chronological list of links to all the journal entries, refer to the Journal Entries Index Page http://wp.me/P41c99-J

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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Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 171-185 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 182: The Tale of Jean Nicolas Valiquette

April 30, 2014

 

Thursday Cola took me to a luxury hotel.  I didn’t even know where it was because I was hungover and sick, so I slept most of the time during the ride.  She had rented a car and brought Gary Oldman (II)’s cat carrier, and I even slept through Gary meowing as we drove.  I think she was feeling a little confused and confined.  Gary Oldman (II), not Cola.  Cola doesn’t ever seem like she gets confused.  We spent most of Thursday in the room because I felt like crap, and Cola ordered up soup, crackers, toast, tea, coke, and gingerale throughout the day until I was finally feeling better.  The shower in the hotel was incredible and the showerhead had various settings.  So I felt good enough to let the massaging setting run on my balls while I sat in the shower and jerked off.  That was a nice release.  I can’t remember the last time I got laid, but apparently I had sex with Iona this week, I just don’t remember, so it doesn’t really count.

Before Cola went to Iona’s, she had gotten some of my clothes from Howard’s which is when she also got the cat carrier.  She got my bathing suit too which is the shorts kind of speedo that Hasty made me get when we went to Boston.  We went down to the indoor, heated, possibly Olympic size pool on Friday when I was no longer hungover and my cold was nearly gone.  Cola wore a two piece bathing suit.  It had a kind of silicone sewn in the breast and ass areas, which gave her the appearance of having more of a figure.  I was actually surprised by her waistline, since she is anatomically a guy, it was strange that it was so thin.  But she told me that way back when she used to wear a corsette, she made it especially tight in order to make her waist permanently smaller, and it seems to have worked.  She will wear a corsette now and then when she’s really dressed up.  It seems to me that she’s always dressed up.   She said I haven’t seen anything yet.

The bathing suit had one of those skirt type bottoms which concealed the bulge from her male anatomy.  She had all waterproof makeup, and a bathing cap with wig hair sewn in so that it would stick out a little.  We swam around and went in the sauna and Jacuzzi.  At one point we were hanging out on the lawn chairs by the pool and she says, “Now that is hot, Wall Grimm, look at that.”  I look and she’s pointing to some European looking guy.  I’m like, “don’t point out guys to me, don’t say ‘that’s hot’ and make me look up at a guy.”  She told me I should be bisexual because I’m so open.  I was like, “nope” no interest in any of that.  Then she started going on about how I’ve kissed Pete a couple times and let a guy grope me when I was on ecstasy.  I told her that she read the context in my journal and so she should know it has nothing to do with any kind of bisexuality.  She asked if I ever had any sexual experience with a guy that I didn’t document in my journal.  I said no.  She said that I did.

I was like, “What makes you say that?”

“I know there’s something, Wall Grimm.  But it wasn’t pleasant.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about.  But I won’t say it, because then you’ll tell me to fuck off and you know I don’t like that.”

“Well too bad, because I’m telling you to fuck off right now.  Just because you read most of my journals, doesn’t mean it’s any of your business.”

“You’re endearing.”

She then went off and came back with two virgin piña coladas.  I asked her where she got all the money for the hotel.  She said she was a prostitute.  I was like, “Really, Cola?  No, don’t do that.  You don’t have to do that anymore.”

She told me I was a sweet asshole.  Sweet that I let her stay with me at Howard’s and went with her to get her stuff from her apartment with her jerk ex-boyfriend, and sweet that I implied I’d help her out so she wouldn’t have to prostitute herself.  She said I was an asshole for believing that she’d ever prostitute herself.

Apparently Cola is wealthy.  This is something she doesn’t want me to tell anyone else.  She comes from a wealthy family in the Berkshires.  Cola went to Princeton and Yale and achieved her Master’s by age 22.  I asked what she studied, she said “college boys”.  So I don’t know what her degrees are in since I didn’t pursue it after that.  After she returned home, she started a gallery.  Cola is a painter and sculptor.  She has her own gallery in the Berkshires and her art sells at extremely high prices.  Her artwork has been exhibited in museums all over the world, even including The Louvre.  She started the gallery and was able to travel for exhibits and promotion because of her parents’ wealth, but has established herself as renown enough to have her own wealth, independent from her parents.  Her name is Jean Nicolas Valiquette, and goes by Nicolas at home and with family, and by Jean Nicolas in the art community.

Two years ago, she left that world because even though she was able to paint and sculpt, which is her passion, she felt it was all a façade.  The prestige and elitism, and the circles she was enmeshed in, became meaningless.  She’s grateful for her success, but says you can’t really put a price on art.  Her gallery is managed by her parents now and she has not created new pieces in the last two years, which has raised the value of everything she’s already created.  That wasn’t her intention, she just wanted to live a real life.  And she no longer wanted to pretend she was something she’s not.  She moved around here to be true to herself, be the woman she always felt she was, no longer having to hide this part of her.  She used to only wear women’s lingerie beneath her male clothing, but she moved here and has become a woman through and through.  She has no interest in a sex change because she said that God is the greatest artist of them all who never makes artistic mistakes, so she considers her body to be like a Michelangelo in that respect.  She only embellishes, but doesn’t change.  She has become her own art, as she paints and sculpts herself.  It’s what’s inside that matters, in all people.  You can’t put a price on people like you can’t put a price on art.

She allows herself a minimal stipend of her wealth per month, and lives only off that amount, which she didn’t reveal, but it’s apparently a scraping by amount even for one person.  This of course was after she bought all the women’s clothing and accessories.  She says she prefers to live around real people because rich people don’t really understand life or what life is truly all about.  And she says that she’s a better man now as a woman than she ever was as a man.

Cola is 32 years old.  She says she splurged on me because she likes me and she’s never felt connected like this to anyone before.  She’s says I’m her first, true best friend and she felt connected even before she read my journals.  She appreciates the honesty and rawness of my existence.  And after she said all that, and more, I decided that she has to be one of the most fascinating people I’ve ever met.  She doesn’t like anyone in her new world to know her wealth because she says that people use you when you have money and/or prestige, and relationships are never genuine.  But she knows I’m not like that and she trusts me more than she’s ever trusted anyone else.

Anyway…wow.

And now we’ve been back in town since Monday morning when I went directly to Blues Monday.  We’ve returned to Howard’s, and I’m back at school and work.  I did miss a visit with Bogart on Saturday though, and he actually called me whining about it.  Otherwise, this is definitely on my list of top 5 retreats/escapes from life.  It was healthy, after I sobered up, and actually rejuvenating, whereas most other times I return feeling depressed, useless, or guilty for one reason or another.  And I have Cola to thank for that.  C-O-L-A Cola.

My theme song today is “Changes” by David Bowie, because the lyrics remind me of Cola now that I know her story.

 

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previous Grimm 181: The Trannie, the Drunk, & the Cat with an Attitude http://wp.me/p41c99-Nr

next Grimm 183: Grimm the Abstract Gypsy Caballero Personal Protagonist http://wp.me/p41c99-Pb

For a chronological list of links to all the journal entries, refer to the Journal Entries Index Page http://wp.me/P41c99-J

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

 

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 171-185 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Blog Tour 2014 – The Writing Process

1.  What am I working on at the moment?
 
I have been working on further revisions to my novel The Opera.  I had completed revisions last Summer and have sporadically been submitting to agents.  However, it’s been an enormous challenge to find agents whose interests seem relevant to the storyline.  No one seems to be looking for the sort of novel I wrote.  It’s also been difficult for me to identify the genre of the novel.  I struggle with query writing as it is, and this novel feels impossible for me to describe and properly represent within the brief context of a query.  As a result of these obstacles, I’ve decided to further revise.  Now that I’m more familiar with publishing industry, I hope to strengthen my themes and be able to effectively define the storyline.  It may seem strange that I can’t categorize my own book, but it just doesn’t quite fit into the scope of what is being sought by agents, nor is it classifiable enough to label.  I don’t think it falls under any specific genre.
 
2.  How does my work differ from others of its genre?
I have been submitting the novel as literary/commercial fiction, however when I have researched the definitions of these categories, there are elements that my novel either has or lacks which defies these types of fiction.  I write realistic fiction, realism, which tends to be dramatic, often brutal.  Dennis Lehane is the only author whose works I can think of to compare my genre to, not that my talent is comparable to his.  In terms of my own writing, the best example is my novel Amon-Re which I’ve been posting here on this blog.  If anyone can think of a genre for that, enlighten me.  I think literary and commercial fiction are both too broad and too restricting.  The Opera has similar elements to Amon-Re.  My stories tend to be character driven and include themes of substance abuse, street life, homelessness, and childhood sexual abuse.  I like plots and scenarios to be realistic and I sometimes present lifestyles and experiences that are not necessarily reflective of societal norms.  Often the realities focus on worlds within a darker side of life that many people are never touched by in their own lives.  Despite this fact, I try to make the protagonists identifiable in order for readers to comprehend and empathize with their motivations.  I have a strong leaning towards psychology, so I try to ensure my characters remain true to their individual natures and that their choices make sense.  I also enjoy establishing a philosophical and introspective narrative.
 
 
3.  Why do I write what I do?
I’ve always had a leaning toward dark themes, even as a child.  I used to want a puppy when I was a kid, which isn’t unusual, yet I used to imagine that I would come across an abused puppy that I would adopt.  Of course, I didn’t want any puppy to suffer, rather I was aware that there were animals out there that were abused, and in my own child mind, my imagination enabled me to end the abuse and rescue the puppy. I think I’ve always been fascinated and disturbed by the potential cruelty in people.  I couldn’t comprehend it at a young age, but I wanted to.  I never did come to understand why some people can be so cruel, however this need for explanation led me towards looking at things from a psychological perspective.  I hadn’t yet learned anything about Freud before I figured out that some behavior is the result of opposing circumstance.  In other words, I recognized that people exposed to cruelty could themselves become cruel.  I write from this standpoint, that victims can become victimizers, but they can often become survivors.  My characters are the survivors, whether or not they survive in the end, and they are never intentionally cruel.  They often think and feel very much the way I do.  I also incorporate a lot of my own experiences in my stories, whether they are based on observation or immersion.
 
 
4.  How does my writing process work?
I tend to begin with the character.  My protagonists are always male.  The personality comes first, then the physical features develop in order to solidify an image.  Along with the personality comes the nature of this person.  Then I determine a history.  Once the character is established, I begin to imagine various scenarios the person experiences, or people he can encounter.  These imaginations recur and alter and shape in my head, incorporating the history, and then the story is ready to be documented.  One thing I’ve learned through revising The Opera and especially now that I am posting Amon-Re, is that my best work comes from getting out everything, including it all, and being superfluous, then whittling it down.  I used to think it was all important and all good, but I’ve only just recently learned that it’s not.  I think it’s extremely useful, however, to put the extra stuff in at first.  It’s amazing how a few pages can be transformed into a sentence or a paragraph.  It may seem frivolous, but for me I find that it makes a story whole.  There are subtleties and curiosities and unspoken things in real life.  Not everything is explained.  Some things are only hinted at or alluded to.  I think it helps to make a story rich.  The key is to not become so attached to the extra stuff that you can’t let it go because that can sacrifice the integrity of the story.
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I was invited to participate in The Writing Process Blog Tour by James Courtney and Kaisy Wilkerson-Mills at http://citystatewritings.wordpress.com/  Their blog tour post: http://citystatewritings.wordpress.com/2014/04/21/2014-blog-tour/
The tour will continue with  http://fieldofthorns.wordpress.com/  and  http://thisoldtoad.com/ who will post on May 5th.
Categories: NOTES FROM SAGE DOYLE | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 16 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 181: The Trannie, the Drunk, & the Cat with an Attitude

April 24, 2014

 

Iona let me crash at her place for a few days, and she even let me drink.  She didn’t want to me to drink of course, but I convinced her that I’m just taking a break from life, I’ll stop again, I just need this break, and I also convinced her to get me to the store to buy me more Jameson’s and chianti.  I’m a lightweight these days.  And I got cigarettes too.  I’ll quit smoking again as well.

I’m relapsing yeah, but I’m doing it responsibly.  I’m not just disappearing like I tend to do.  I told Howard I was staying at a friend’s for a few days or so.  I contacted all my professors and told them I’m really sick.  That’s not a big deal because I’ve barely missed any classes so I kind of reach my maximum absences after this week.  I can’t miss any more after this, but that won’t be difficult because the semester ends in a few weeks.  Besides, I’m not lying, I am sick.  I caught something.  So Iona also brought me to get cold medicine.  I say she brought me because I’ve been too drunk to venture on my own.  But I went with her because I don’t want to be this big loser, drunken invalid.

Anyway, I also contacted Sharly and told her I won’t be able to work.  She has begun to have her girlfriend cover for me whenever another employee can’t cover me.  She doesn’t want to hire someone else, because then I’ll lose hours.  I’ve been really responsible, so this isn’t that big of a deal.  I can’t remember what her girlfriend does for work but she sets her own hours and can do some work online, so it’s not an inconvenience for her to step in spontaneously.  She can also get some work done while she’s at the store.

I called my mom and said I was sorry that I was avoiding her but I just didn’t want to have to explain what happened.  She tried to press me on what provoked me to punch Uncle fucking potato ass face Dan, but I told her I didn’t want to get into it.  Uncle Dan told her he has no idea.  But he knows.  He’s an idiot if he doesn’t.  Well, he’s an idiot either way.

On Wednesday, Cola called me because she returned from visiting her family and I wasn’t at Howard’s.  She said, “You’re not at Paula’s, are you?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so.  You must be at Iona’s.”

“How do you even know that.”

“I know how you think, Wall Grimm.  I read your journals.”

It’s a positive that she’s read them because then she knows shit without my having to explain things, or myself.  The negative is that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get away with anything around her.  She could tell I was drinking and called me a little bitch who needed a slap, then demanded me to tell her where Iona lives so she could come rescue me.

“I don’t need rescuing.”

“Yeah you do.  Iona will take care of you, I know that, but she loves you so she’ll do whatever you want, including let you drink.”

Before she left for Iona’s, she confirmed that I had Gary Oldman (II), which I do because she came with me to my parents’ house on Easter.  I passed her off to my cousin for a second when I punched Uncle Dan in the face.  Then I took her back and left.  She’s pissed at me though because of my relapse.  I think she blames herself because she thinks she’s not doing her job as an Emotional Support Service Animal.  I have to keep reassuring her she does a good job, but she keeps giving me dirty looks.  Then I say if she’s mad at me it will just make me sad and I’ll drink more.  So then she stalks and attacks me and tries to get me to play.  She’s good at what she does.  I don’t pay her enough.

So yesterday, Cola arrived at Iona’s and I was really drunk.  I don’t remember a lot of details about these past few days.  One thing I remember is offering myself sexually to Cola if she would get me more booze.  Oops.  But first I was like, “are you a pitcher or a catcher?”  She said she was vers, which means versatile, which means both.  So I told her she’d have to be the catcher in my case.  She said she didn’t want to “catch” anything from me, at least not while I was a drunken slut.  “Offer again when you’re sober and I’m all yours, cowboy.”  She called me cowboy because she knows that’s what Iona calls me.

I also remember that at one point I had been talking about my book Amon-Re and I jumped on Iona’s kitchen table shouting, “I am the Creator and Lord of Eternal Light!”

Cola said, “Are you the Lizard King too?”

“I am the Lizard King!  I can do anything!”

Then the table fell out from beneath me.  Or maybe I just fell off the table.  And I don’t remember anything after that.

I’m waking up at Motel 6.  Cola’s up and she told me she had to throw me over her shoulder and take me out to her car.  By the time we got to The Sheraton, I was awake but could barely walk, so they claimed there was no vacancy.  Cola says they just didn’t like the looks of us.  She’s a trannie, I’m a drunk, and Gary Oldman (II) was giving them attitude.  She said we’re going to a better hotel tonight so that I can have my away time and break, without having to face Howard, and in a safe place where Cola can babysit me and slap sense into me.  I guess I’m ok with that, I like staying in hotels.  I asked Cola if she wanted me to pay for the next one, she said not to worry about it, she’s got the money.  Then I asked her how she makes money, she said “those are details for another time, Wall Grimm.”

At this moment as I’m writing in my journal, she’s trying to read over my shoulder but I can tell she can’t decipher my handwriting.  So I’m going to write the following sentence large and clear for her to be able to read:

COLA’S SO BEAUTIFUL I WANT TO FUCK THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF HER

She’s laughing now and calling me a slut, and now she went in the bathroom to do her morning ritual of looking like a woman again.  I feel like shit, sick, hungover, wanting more booze, and feeling emotionally like shit too, disappointed in myself and discouraged.  But I suspect that Cola is going to get me through this just fine.  She’s a great person.

And she just called out from the bathroom, “Wall Grimm, do you want to fuck the dead shit out of me too?  Because I’m a little backed up, I need an enema.”

She’s funny.  C-O-L-A Cola.

My theme song for this entry is “Laid” by James, because Cola’s singing that right now while she’s in the bathroom.

 

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previous Grimm 180: Secrets, Acceptance, & Rage http://wp.me/p41c99-N2

next Grimm 182: The Tale of Jean Nicolas Valiquette http://wp.me/p41c99-OB

I’m including two versions of “Laid”.  The first one I have to include because he sings “cum”, while in the second version it’s changed to “sing”.  But I’m including the second video as well, because it’s more interesting.

For a chronological list of links to all the journal entries, refer to the Journal Entries Index Page http://wp.me/P41c99-J

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

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 171-185 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 180: Secrets, Acceptance, & Rage

April 21, 2014

 

Cola went away for the weekend to visit her family in The Berkshires.  She had to go as a man because they have no idea she’s transgendered.  That wicked sucks, I think, that people have to hide like that from their own family because they know they won’t be accepted if they’re open.  I feel very fortunate to have my parents.  I’m grateful for them every day.  I know that I could tell them anything and they would support me.  Unless I was a serial killer or something, then I think they’d want me in prison.  Or at least I’d hope they would.  Anyway, so Cola was gone for the weekend.  I visited Bogart on Saturday and brought him a chocolate bunny even though sugar makes him hyper.  He never gets chocolate and he loves it.  I got him one of the Lindt bunnies, they’re so freakin’ good.  I almost ate it on the way there.

On Sunday I went to my parents’ house.  After they got back from church they had our traditional Easter brunch.  Most of the family was there, family I don’t see much these days, not since I was living with my parents.  Pete was going to come with me but his parents actually invited him home for the holiday and took Sweetheart with him.  That’s cool because he also had to hide from them the fact that he was gay and when he came out to them, they kicked him out, right before Christmas, a couple years ago or whenever it was.  That’s how we started being roommates at the time because I told him he could stay with me.  He’s been kind of estranged from them ever since, and now they took the initiative to be involved in his life, so that’s good.  Personally I don’t know if I’d want them back in my life if they took that long to accept me, or sort of accept me.  But I can’t say for sure because I’m not in that situation.  It must really hurt to go through that.  Pete’s pretty tough emotionally.  He’s sensitive but strong.

So the day started well, my favorite is the homefries.  My mother makes the best homefries.  We had homefries, ham with pineapple sauce (I don’t eat ham), baked beans, eggs (I don’t eat eggs), toast, Bavarian waffles, and apple pie for dessert.  Plus tons of chocolate.  My parents don’t do Easter egg hunts for me and my sister anymore, but they did for a long time.  I think the last year they did it was after I turned 21 and they put nips in the eggs.  Then they decided I drank too much and that was the end of that.  But my sister and I hid the eggs outside for our little cousins and it was fun to watch them run around looking for them.

After the egg hunt and brunch, we were all just sitting out on the patio and talking while the younger kids were playing in the yard.  It was kind of rough being around all the champagne.  Champagne has always been a big part of our Easters.  Either straight or as mimosas.  So I was beginning to have a rough time with that, especially since I haven’t been smoking, it was hard to confront two addictions at once.  I didn’t talk much because my mind was distracted with these things.  And then, of all fucking people, Uncle Dan showed up.  He was being all charming and people were glad to see him because he’s not around much, he travels for work and lives in New York.  I think I was the only one who was not glad to see him.

I got even quieter as he made the rounds hugging and kissing everyone, and they all had big smiles on their faces.  He made his way to me and was like, “Hey, Grimm.”  I hate that he calls me Grimm, my family all mostly calls me Valente, sometimes Grimm.  But he calls me Grimm and it feels personal, like, that’s my fucking name you have no right to call me that or speak of it, what makes you think you’re that close to me that you can call me by that name, fuck you.  I’m not sure how rational that is.

I didn’t respond, I just got up and went in the bathroom.  For about a half an hour, he kept turning up wherever I’d go, whatever room I’d be in.  I’d find a place with some relatives and sit with them and he’d come in the room so I’d leave and find a new place.  I don’t know why I even stayed that long.  I was just pissed that he not only showed up, but also that he was following me, trying to talk to me.  I had nothing to say to him.  I just wanted to be there with my family since I hadn’t been around for Christmas and I was ready to be a part of holiday celebrations after Valentina.  He was disrupting my process and my route back to normalcy and stability.

Finally I went out to the fire.  We had a fire pit going and some of the kids were making s’mores.  Fire brings me peace or rejuvenates and cleanses me.  I release all my negative energy into the fire, then bring in the fire power, letting it surge through me, and it makes me feel good.  It’s like fire is a healthy drug for me, gives me that rush, yet leaves me with clarity and fortitude.  I caved and bummed a smoke off one of my older cousins.  So I was just standing there by the fire, feeling like I had this fervent shield around me that nothing could penetrate.  No one by the fire spoke to me as if they sensed it, as it almost gave off this “leave me the fuck alone” kind of vibe.

Then fucking Uncle Dan comes by and stands right next to me and says, “Hey, Grimm”.  The fire power surged and became an unbearable rage inside of me.  It was so intense I had to let it out.  And he was the cause of it.  He said “Hey, Grimm” and the surge happened immediately, and it was almost seconds after he said it that I turned and punched him square on in the face with such force that he was knocked off his feet.  There was a moment of people just looking on in shock, and then I walked away.  And then I left.

My parents and sister have called but I haven’t answered when their names show on my cell.  I have no clue how to explain that to them.  I didn’t even go back to Howard’s because then they’d know where to find me.  Instead I went to Iona’s.  First I walked around for a while, bought some cigarettes, struggled against going to the liquor store, until I just thought fuck it, just this once.  I bought a bottle of Jameson’s.  I couldn’t think of anywhere to go, so I went in the woods at the park and drank.  It didn’t take much to hit me.  Eventually, I staggered to Iona’s and waited for her to return home after whatever holiday activities she was involved in.  I sat outside her apartment building, drinking the Jameson’s from an emptied out soda can, like I write Amon-Re as doing.

I spent the night with her, and I’m at her place right now.  I called and told Howard I wasn’t going to Blues Monday today.  I’m hung over and kind of miserable, and I think I’m getting sick.  My throat hurts and ears hurt and my whole fucking face hurts.  And…I have nothing else to say right now.

My theme song is “Jerk Off” by Tool, dedicated to Uncle Dan, and it pisses me off that he stirs this kind of violence in me.

 

*******

previous Grimm 179: Wall Grimm’s Philosophy of Dwelling & Penguini a la Cola http://wp.me/p41c99-Mh

next Grimm 181: The Trannie, the Drunk, & the Cat with an Attitude http://wp.me/p41c99-Nr

For a chronological list of links to all the journal entries, refer to the Journal Entries Index Page http://wp.me/P41c99-J

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

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 171-185 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 179: Wall Grimm’s Philosophy of Dwelling & Penguini a la Cola

April 17, 2014

 

I was talking with Howard and he said that he and Daisy have been discussing moving.  He said he hates to face up to the fact that they’re getting older and it would be best for them if they weren’t so rural and didn’t have a house to maintain.  So they’ve begun to consider living in a 55+ housing type situation.  I felt really bad at first because I thought maybe I wasn’t helping around the house enough, so I offered to do more, and I also offered money.  I’ve got a good stash going now since I’m working a lot and I really don’t have much to spend my money on.  I buy food for me and Gary Oldman (II) and get Dunkin Donuts coffee sometimes.  Cigarettes are my huge expense, so I’ve decided to quit.  I tried but it makes me kind of an irritable asshole and I don’t like feeling that way so yesterday I got myself some nicotine gum.  I’m chewing a piece right now and it’s actually staving off my nicotine craving.  Anyway, I’ve gone off subject.

Howard assured me that more help and more money wouldn’t change anything.  It’s something they’ve been thinking about for a long time, and they’re honestly looking forward to a change and simplifying their lives.  He said they’ve begun to look into places to move and they’re going to put their house on the market.  I’m almost tempted to buy it, maybe with Pete or something, but I kind of don’t want to lock myself down to that kind of a commitment.  Not at 24.  And not as a gypsy.  Can’t just up and leave anytime I want when I have a property to be responsible for.

Yet even though he assured me I couldn’t have done more, I still feel like I could have.  But I won’t dwell on it.  I hate dwelling.  I have a philosophy about that.  My name is Wall Grimm and I have a philosophy about the pointlessness of dwelling.

WALL GRIMM’S DWELLING PHILOSOPHY

I don’t want to dwell on the new developments involving Howard’s…dwelling, aka house/living arrangements.  Dwelling just turns trivial matters into bigger problems, and extends the life of bullshit.  When you dwell, you’re holding yourself back from accepting things as they are and resolving them within yourself.  It’s best to come to terms with circumstance, learn from it, and if there’s any way to act on it, then do what you got to do.  If you can’t change it, move on.  If you can make a difference, then just do it.  Dwelling is a stagnancy in physical investment and the cognitive process of realization.  Dwelling prevents growth of character.  You can’t grow as a person if you’re stuck in one stage of development.  So dwelling on what I did or didn’t do with regards to Howard’s situation, is pointless.  Howard and Daisy are making a practical decision that has nothing to do with me.  I didn’t age them, that’s just life and time.  I also did help them a lot, so I can be proud of that.  Dwelling often diminishes the worth of accomplishments as you focus on the illusion of incompetencies.

And yeah, I have incompetencies, but I don’t dwell on them, or I try not to.  I just build competence out of my awareness of them.  Or I try to.

Ok, enough about that.

Last night after work C-O-L-A Cola and I went to Pete’s.  Hasty met us there and she fell in love with Cola.  In an adoring kind of way, not a marrying kind of way.  Sweetheart and Pete liked Cola too and Cola was excited to meet them since she read about them in my journals, she said it was like meeting characters from a book.

Cola wanted to make a late dinner and had spent the day cutting out penguin shapes from lasagna noodles with little penguin cookie cutters.  She called it Penguini Pasta.  She said it took a long time though so she cooked it with regular spaghetti once we were at Pete’s.  She also made a version of Alfredo sauce that only had milk because she forgot about the heavy cream.  And since we weren’t having fettuccine, she just called the meal Spaghetti Freddy with Penguini a la Cola.

Then we had a conversation about “what is sexy” essentially.  Can you acknowledge that a person is sexy without wanting to have sex with that person?  There seems to be a congruency with thinking someone’s sexy and wanting sex with them.  Hasty said she felt that women had a better capability than men to recognize sexiness and sexuality in people, regardless of gender, and it doesn’t lead to feelings of sexual arousal or the need to be sexually intimate with that person.  Men think a woman is sexy and want sex with her.  I disagreed, mostly in terms with myself.  I can acknowledge the sexual qualities in people without needing that gratification.  Hasty wanted proof through example, so after a thought, I said Cola.  Cola’s a sexy person, but I definitely don’t want to have sex with her.  But that just made Cola’s night and every now and then she’d say “Wall Grimm thinks I’m sexy” even if it was irrelevant.  She mostly calls me Wall Grimm, not just Grimm, she says my whole name.  No one else does that.

Anyway, by the end of the conversation, we came to a consensus that men do have the ability, and we’re talking about heterosexual men here.  But it’s different than women.  Heterosexual women can think a guy is sexy and not want sex with him.  However, a heterosexual guy is going to want sex with any woman he finds sexy.  The same guy can recognize sexiness in other men, but it varies.  Some guys won’t allow themselves to consciously acknowledge it.  Some guys will, but won’t openly admit it.  Other guys, like me, are comfortable with their own sexuality enough, to not feel threatened by that.  Although, I can’t think of any examples of guys I recognize as sexy, not at the moment, not even any celebrities.

From this conversation emerged a plan to have an opposite day.  As I said before, Cola likes the opposite of everything.  The opposite day will definitely test my level of comfort in my own sexuality and manhood.  They want to all go out and dress as our opposite gender.  So Pete and I would dress as women, Hasty, Sweetheart, and Cola would dress as men.  Cola is anatomically a man, but identifies herself as a woman, so her opposite would truly be dressing as a man.

I’m not sure how much like a woman I’d look like, and….damn I don’t know, but I guess I’ll just have to um…man up, and dress like a woman.

We ended the evening by playing music and dancing.  The best song we danced to, because it’s a cool song to dance to, will be my theme song.  It’s “Lose Yourself to Dance” by Daft Punk.

*******

previous Grimm 178: Wall Grimm’s Entourage http://wp.me/p41c99-M3

next Grimm 180: Secrets, Acceptance, & Rage http://wp.me/p41c99-N2

Hasty is based on herself from http://hastywords.wordpress.com/

For a chronological list of links to all the journal entries, refer to the Journal Entries Index Page http://wp.me/P41c99-J

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

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 171-185 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 17 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 177: Cola and the Caballero

April 10, 2014

I worked all day yesterday and last night until close.  I went outside for a break to have a butt and I saw a transgendered standing across the street waiting for a bus.  Two guys walked by and scoffed, laughed, and once they were about ten feet away, they shouted, “Freak!”

That pissed me off.  I’m really opposed to discrimination of any kind.  Well, except for scumbags who hurt children or animals.  I openly discriminate against them and support the ostracization and scrutiny of them.  Anyway, I started to cross the street towards them, and yelled, “Hey!”  They stopped and turned.  I said, “what did you just fucking say?”

“Chill out, dude, we weren’t talking to you.”

I said, no shit, and called them assholes and said they’d better apologize to her or once I beat them to their knees they’ll have to apologize to the both of us.  They ran before I finished crossing the street.  I guess I made my point.

I turned back around to go stand outside the bookstore and lit another cigarette, since I tossed the other one, was almost done smoking it anyway.  Once I returned to my post, I saw the transgendered slowly making her way across the street towards me.  She was walking real slow like she wanted to ensure I saw her in order to give me time to tell her to go away.  That’s just the sense I got by her pace and stride and how she was looking at me the entire time.  I didn’t so she made it over by me and said, “a cowboy.”  I was wearing my Eastwood and Stepping Wolves.

“Sure am little lady.”

She laughed because she was probably about my height of 5’10” but in heels towered over me at about 6’2″.

She thanked me and asked why I did that.  I just said, “I hate that shit.  People fucking suck sometimes.”

“You should watch your language around a lady you know.”

I tipped my hat, “pardon me ma’am.”

“Is that your name?”  She pointed to my name tag.

“Yep.”

“You’re strange and peculiar.”

“You’re not so ordinary yourself.”

“No I’m not.  My name’s Nicky, but my friends call me Nicole.  You can call me anytime, but be sure to address me as Nicole.”

Then a bus stopped across the street let two people off and drove away.

“You missed your bus.”

“Oops.  …You’re not gay, Wall Grimm, I can tell.”

“Nope.”

“I’m not either.  I like men.”

“So you’re all woman then, huh?”

“Well, as much as I can be, but that’s beneath the surface.”

Then she told me that contrary to misconceptions, transgendereds aren’t all gay.  Some dress up as women, or just wear women’s lingerie, but still like women.  She said most prefer to be referred as “she” when dressed as a woman, “he” is ok when they’re in men’s clothes, but “it” is never cool, and “he” is forgiven when a person doesn’t know any better.

I told her I had to get back in to work so she decided to come in and browse.  She disappeared for a while and then came over to me to show me a book.  She asked what I was doing.  I told her I was cleaning the check out area.  She said, “that’s good you like to keep your area to check out clean.”

I fucking love innuendo, no matter where it comes from, and the diverse places in dialogue where it can be found.

The book she had was about reincarnation.  We talked about Edgar Cayce and how we agreed that reincarnation in his view was similar to Buddhist philosophy and even could be compared to purgatory as well as the veils of death in Ancient Egyptian beliefs.  There’s a lot of congruency with all religions.  Basically living again and again and evolving as a spirit until you reach a heightened existence when the soul can finally pass on.  Then she told me that she believed transgendereds were the heightened existence, because there’s a lot of shit you have to deal with and confront and learn from and overcome.  You have to be confident and brave and accepting of yourself enough to pull it off with dignity.  I thought that was awesome.

We talked a lot and at one point we were skimming through a dictionary looking up funny words.  These were our favorites:

Pilgarlic – a bald person, a person with a bald head that resembles a peeled garlic clove

Corybungus – a person’s bottom, or the rear of anything that’s alive.

Bunghole, I get it now.

Our favorite was frotteur – a person who engages in the sexual act of frottage.

We liked that definition after we looked up the word frottage: The act of rubbing up against the body of another person, as in a crowd, in order to gain sexual gratification.  We admitted we’ve both done that at times, usually on the subway.  So we started calling ourselves frotteurs.  She said, “I want to frottage you.”   I said it was a noun, so she said, “I want to do frottage to you.”  I just said, “nah, that’s ok.”

She asked if I minded, as a straight guy, if a transgendered sexually harasses me.  I said, nope, so long as it’s just for fun and she didn’t expect to get anywhere with me.  Being sexually harassed is ego boosting and I’m ok with that.  She said she doesn’t, she just likes to sexually harass straight guys when they allow it because it doesn’t happen often, and that she liked me because I was adorable and peculiar.  She kept calling me peculiar.  I like being peculiar.   I asked her if she minded if I kept sticking my hands down my pants to scratch my balls, and I explained the bet I lost and that I had to shave them.  They’re so fucking itchy from the hair growing back.  I said no when she offered to scratch them for me, and she told me that’s just a little part of the harassment.

She told me I was her caballero.  I said, that’s cool.  I began calling her Nicola, because it rhymed with Lola, and she loved that because that’s one of her favorite songs.  Eventually, I shortened it to Cola, which she liked even better. C-O-L-A Cola.

She stayed until the store closed and we walked to Dunkin’ Donuts.  She ordered warm milk with sugar and a splash of coffee thrown in.  Cola appreciates the opposites of everything.

Being with her, it was a shame to see all the stares and mockingly amused, demeaning expressions on people’s faces.  She lives like that every day of her life.  There was a lot of acceptance too.  But it sucks that the acceptance stands out and is recognized with gratitude.  Acceptance should just happen, without it being so extraordinary.

When it was time to go home, she said she didn’t want to go.  She was living with a man who was her supposed boyfriend, but they got in an argument and he kicked her out.  She was originally planning to return anyway, hoping the offer of a blow job would ease things.  Of course she had to add that men give the best blow jobs since they have the equipment, they know best what to do with it.

I responded with, “I thought you were all woman.”

“You’re cheeky.  I like that about you.”

I told her she could stay the night with me, but we had to take a cab, since I only had my bike.  I left my bike at the store, so hopefully tonight when I go back the tires won’t have been stolen.

Cola slept in my bed and I slept on the floor.  I have to wake her soon because I have to go to school this morning.  We’ll have a quick breakfast and coffee upstairs with Howard.  I’m pretty sure Howard will appreciate Cola’s visit, but he will also be baffled.  I like to throw Howard off now and then.  He never knows what to expect from me and I’m entertained by that.

And it’s late, gotta wake her up, but I’ll end with today’s theme song which unavoidably has to be “Lola” by The Kinks.

*******

previous Grimm 176: Postmodern Abduction http://wp.me/p41c99-Lg

next Grimm 178: Wall Grimm’s Entourage http://wp.me/p41c99-M3

For a chronological list of links to all the journal entries, refer to the Journal Entries Index Page http://wp.me/P41c99-J

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

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 171-185 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 16 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 175: The Smooth Agent Provocateur

April 4, 2014

 

I’ve skipped two days out of life this year recently.  First I skipped St. Patrick’s Day, which happened to fall on Blues Monday.  I went with Howard to Blues Monday though, but then once I got home I stayed home and had no contact with anyone.  I guess I kind of celebrated it because a couple of the wives made traditional stuff like boiled dinner, some without meat for me, and Irish soda bread.  They also made shamrock cupcakes.

Next I skipped April Fool’s Day, which is isn’t really a holiday I don’t think.  I just didn’t feel like being involved in any Shenanigans.  Yes, I used the word Shenanigans.  Wait, that sounds Irish.  I think Leprechauns invented Shenanigans.  I don’t know why I’m capitalizing it either.  I didn’t mean to.  I guess that means that subconsciously for me it’s an important word.  Yeah so, no Shenanigans by me or any of my rabble rouser friends.

No Shenanigans by Rabble Rousers.

However, I did see Hasty for her birthday.  We played hooky that day.  She skipped work, I skipped school, and I took her out to breakfast.  Hooky.  Words seem funny to me today.

The rabble rousers played hooky and caused shenanigans.

A couple crazy things did happen this week though.  First, on April Fool’s Day, since I was hermitizing myself after breakfast, I did some school work, worked out, and watched TV.  And even though I was avoiding high jinks –I just got that from the thesaurus for shenanigans, and monkeyshines, roguery, and chicanery.  I don’t like monkeys, so that word troubles me.  And instead of rabble rouser I found “agent provocateur”.  Now there’s a good one.  And instead of hooky, I found French leave.

The agents provocateur took French leave and generated monkeyshines.

The agents provocateur took French leave and generated roguery.  Perfect.

Anyway, I watched TV and found myself watching an hour and thirteen minutes of a Rotisserie chicken on Netflix.  Those buffoons at Netflix.  I gave it a five star rating.

The next thing that happened was the result of a bet I had with John and Jeff.  They started it.  I told them I wanted no part of chicanery but they bet me that I would be the victim of a prank.  I think they had something planned.  But since I was staying home, watching TV, and having no contact with anyone apart from Hasty in the morning and they didn’t know about those plans, I thought I’d win the bet.  Turns out I was fooled by Netflix.  That was a prank.  When I saw the description: “In the tradition of ‘The Curious Case of Benjamin Button’ witness a searing, [searing is the operative word] chronology defying return to one’s origin that stokes [another pun] the imagination. Category: dramas/epics” I thought it was something real and got curious.  So essentially I lost the bet.

If I won the bet, I told them they had to rent a limo for a day, take me to Boston, and convince people that I was famous.  One of them would be the limo driver, the other would be my assistant or something.  I said we could get some of our other friends to meet us there and pretend to be the paparazzi and fans.  I think that would have been pretty cool.  But I lost.  And they’re juvenile hellions, not quite the status of agents of provocation, so they bet me that if I lost, I had to shave my balls.

I’ve never done that before.  I didn’t want to do it, but I’m good on my word even though now I don’t feel very macho.  I could have lied, but they made me show them.  Fucking freaks just wanted a peek of my private estate.  If I lied and tried to avoid showing them, they’d probably have torn down my pants and made me do it right then and there.  I figure that about them.  But now…

My name is Wall Grimm and I’m suffering from a lack of machismo as a result of anti-pubism.  I was rigamortified.  That’s my new word.  It means I died in a metaphorical way.  I fell over stiff as a board like they do in the cartoons.  But I shouldn’t use the word stiff when I’m talking about my genitals unless I plan to use it.  Kind of like pulling out a gun.

So yeah, I shaved my balls on Wednesday.  Now they’re itchy and it fucking sucks.  And when I look down, all I see is a deformed elephant.  But that’s not the worst part.  And the worst part also kind of happens to be the best part.

The other day, Howard was showing me some of his father’s old clothes from when his dad was my age, don’t know why Howard still had them, which included a fedora, high waisted trousers, an Eisenhower jacket, and black and white wingtip shoes.  I fucking love those clothes.  They suit me.  Literally, since I wore them.  He gave them to me because I thought they were cool.  So yesterday, I wore them to school and work.  Turns out, the ladies like that style.  I got a lot of attention at school, which was unintentional.  And Sharly told me I looked dapper.  I like to be dapper.  I want to always be dapper.

Anyway, it was about 4:30 and the store was slow, this was before the coffee house that evening, and I was going through a shipment of inventory, singing and dancing to Perry Como feeling all Forties-ish and shit, really getting into “Catch a Falling Star” when I turned and saw that I was being observed by a beautiful, very classy and sophisticated looking woman.  I stopped and asked if I could help her.

I directed her to the section where’d she’d find the subject matter she was interested in, which was postmodern photography.  While I was cashing her out, I asked her, like I always do, if she found what she was looking for.  She winked at me and said, “I certainly did, even though I hadn’t known it was what I wanted until I found it.”  I said, “and what was that.”  She said, “you.”

Then she asked me how old I was and when I’d get off work.  I told her 24 and after the coffee house.  She refused to tell me her age but I knew she was older, and she was the most forward woman I’ve ever met.  Her name was Olivia and she told me that she’d come back for me later and would like to take me home with her, and do I want to pose for photographs.

I said, ok, why not, but no nude pics, and no alcohol/drugs.

So she came back, I left with her and went to her place, which was a very expensive apartment in Boston.  I’m no model and I don’t like to pose, so she just took impromptu pics as we talked and when I was looking around at her stuff.  Then she fucked me.  I say she fucked me because she just kind of started it all of a sudden and was dominant insomuch as she was the aggressor and initiator, not that I was submissive, which I never am.  However, she was surprised if not turned on by my hairless balls.  I was embarrassed and had forgotten about them, since I got caught up in all of this, I was distracted from the itchiness.  I told her about the bet and she said, “boys will be boys.”  Yeah we tend to be true to our gender, I always hated that expression.  You never hear, “girls will be girls.”

Anyway, she asked me if I was going to keep them smooth and I said no, she said “what a shame.”  I think she’s kind of a pervert.  But I’m ok with that.

It’s Friday morning, I’m waking up at her place and I have to leave soon in order to go to school.  Yet I think she’s abducted me because last night when I told her I had to go to school today she said, “no you can never leave.”  Then she laughed.  No, it wasn’t an evil laugh, so there’s a diversity of interpretations there.

And my theme song is of course “Catch a Falling Star” by Perry Como, especially since Olivia at one point expressed that she seems to have caught herself a falling star.  So I guess she just wants to put me in her pocket and save me for a rainy day.

 

*******

previous Grimm 174: Thoughts of Kathy http://wp.me/p41c99-JV

next Grimm 176: Postmodern Abduction http://wp.me/p41c99-Lg

Hasty is based on herself from http://hastywords.wordpress.com/

For a chronological list of links to all the journal entries, refer to the Journal Entries Index Page http://wp.me/P41c99-J

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

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 171-185 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 174: Thoughts of Kathy

March 31, 2014

 

I’ve been thinking of Kathy a lot lately and I know I haven’t written about her in a while.  I guess since I had been dreaming about her and experiencing the “visitations” by her and the Shadowy guy way back when, once that all stopped, I didn’t even want to think or write about either of them anymore.  I was kind of reluctant because I didn’t want to stir any of that up again.  I believe I learned the cause of the Shadowy guy, as if he was some kind of aspect of myself, or maybe even he was me co-existing on another plane of existence.  The dimension where I made even worse choices.  Or perhaps he was intended to guide me back on a path to get me where I am now.  Maybe I strayed from that at the time.  Maybe Kathy was haunting me, unintentionally directing me elsewhere because she was a restless spirit, and he was me on the right path trying to get our paths to merge, so I wouldn’t lose that part of me or that me which I was meant to remain.

So now I’m wondering if Kathy stopped coming around in my dreams and visions because I willed her away and because she realized it was a genuine haunting at a certain point.  Maybe she’s just no longer restless.  I think I want to believe that she’s finally at peace.  Maybe she was trying to warn me or protect me.  I don’t know when I actually started dreaming of her.  Maybe it was after my own suicide attempt.  Maybe she was the one who saved me with the hallucinations that brought me out of the hotel room so that the cops could find me.  It’s all too unclear.  And it essentially doesn’t even matter anymore.  I’m in a good place now.  But I’ve been thinking of her, ready to mourn a little again.  I was diverted from my grief by the hauntings.  And lately I’ve wondered if she is with Valentina.

Prior to Kathy’s suicide, there were many times that I also thought about suicide.  I think we all do, some of us more than others.  I thought of it but in retrospect I never wanted to really kill myself because I thought of my family mostly, and my friends.  I figured if I did that, then they would suffer for the rest of their lives in some way.  I didn’t want that for them.  So basically that was the only reason why I never did.  I didn’t kill myself to spare other people from the pain of it.  When Kathy committed suicide, it had validated all those ideas.  I decided that I never would do that, because I was right, when you kill yourself, you leave all your pain plus some behind for others to suffer.

So when I did try to kill myself it was the strangest thing.  I blew my own mind.  It was like I wasn’t even myself.  I was robotic almost, somehow I was completely missing in the process.  After that when I was in an institution, I knew it was a mistake.  I knew I was meant to live.  It didn’t even matter why.  I knew I never would try that ever again.  I was completely confident about that.  Then Valentina died, and I was sure I had no control over myself.  I was afraid the robotic self would take over again.  I was feeling both suicidal and homicidal and I didn’t feel safe with myself.  But I was in control enough to put myself back in an institution to prevent that from happening.

During the time after Kathy died, I kind of avoided our friends a little.  I didn’t want to participate in a group grieving process.  I guess in that way I was selfish because I withdrew into myself and separated from them.  I have a way about things, which often involves running away altogether.  But it’s not so much escaping as it is avoiding other people.  I need the solitude.  It’s a way to survive.  Kind of like a vision quest I guess.  Anyway, during that time, I focused more on Emma.  Not purposefully, but she just was there for me.  She didn’t know Kathy as well.  They knew each other, were more like acquaintances, just friendly in passing with no animosity.  Emma never hung out with my group of friends.

So Emma went to the wake and the funeral and she sat by me and didn’t say anything, she was just there.  It was perfect.  Someone that I could escape to, and have solitude around, without disrupting my own personal process.  She didn’t expect me to talk about it or openly mourn or anything.  She was just a presence in the most perfect way I could have needed a presence.  When Valentina died and I put myself away, then I came home to find out that Sweetheart had her cremated and was holding off on services until I returned, I wanted Emma around then too.  She came to the services, but I was with Sweetheart.  It was different because Sweetheart and I were Valentina’s parents.  So we were the people that everyone approached to offer condolences to.  It was me, Sweetheart, my parents and my sister, and I wanted Pete with us, because he deserved to be.  He was a significant part of Valentina’s life.  He lived with us.  He was like an uncle and saw her more than anyone else, besides me and Sweetheart.  I never interacted with Emma at the services, except for when she gave me a hug.  But she didn’t talk to me, because she knows me, I had nothing to say.  The more I feel inside, the less I have to say.  Her parents had come too.  Yet, honestly I only think of their presence there now.  Emma’s presence and her parents’ attendance.  I didn’t acknowledge it then.  Everyone was like a ghost there to me.  Just hazy images drifting around in a world I was no longer part of.  I was feeling better after the institution, but facing up to the closure through the services was a challenge and I distanced myself in the process.  As if I disassociated and stepped out of my body, and my spirit stood back waiting to return to me again.

Anyway, I don’t know why I’m writing about this or where I’m even going with this subject except that I’ve been thinking of Kathy again lately.  I never really stopped thinking about her.

Theme song, “All Apologies” by Nirvana.  Just because.

 

*******

previous Grimm 173: “Sharknado” & What Did Great, Great, Great Grandpa Grimm Do? http://wp.me/p41c99-Jo

next Grimm 175: The Smooth Agent Provocateur http://wp.me/p41c99-KA

For a chronological list of links to all the journal entries, refer to the Journal Entries Index Page http://wp.me/P41c99-J

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

 

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 171-185 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 10 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 173: “Sharknado” & What Did Great, Great, Great Grandpa Grimm Do?

March 28, 2014

Something I recently discovered about Howard:  he likes stupid horror movies and B-flicks like I do.  That’s awesome.

Wednesday night after I got home from work, we watched “Sharknado”.

bwahahahahaaahaha

hahaaahaa

ha

That’s my review of the film.  To translate, I highly recommend this film to anyone who has the capability of watching a film that has no basis whatsoever in any kind of science that is common knowledge or easily accessible.  Yes it’s fiction, but good fiction attempts to make scientific sense with some kind of valid foundation or logical explanation.  I won’t give away any spoilers because everyone should see this film.  Yes, that’s what I said:  everyone should see this film.  Especially if they can set aside their need for sense and just want to have a good laugh.  Also, you have to get over the decent subplot requirement and interest in likeable characters.  Forget quality special effects.  The gore level is minimal.  However, I’m pretty sure that I saw a topless surfer girl subtly placed at the beginning of the movie.

So why see this film?  Because it’s hysterical which makes it enjoyable.  Yet, it is definitely not a comedy.  It’s an action packed B-flick horror/disaster movie.  And I actually thought, “awwww shit” when a couple of the people died.  But I’d imagine it’s less fun when you watch it alone.  Get someone to watch it with you, and laugh, and MST3K all over it.  Sometimes the world is too serious.  We need reminders in life that there are people and things much stupider than ourselves.  There are things that don’t need to make sense.  Things so unrealistic and asinine, we are taken out of reality and given the opportunity to laugh.  Because there are no expectations, and therefore, we can’t be disappointed.

There is liberation to be found in watching “Sharknado”.  Liberation and peace of mind.  And laughter.

Ah, the Zen and mindlessness of watching stupid movies…

So anyway, that’s cool that Howard likes dumb shit like that.  I never expected it of him.  He also seems to stay up kinda late after Daisy goes to bed.  Maybe I’ll hang out with him more often in the evenings.

Ok, onto other subject matter.

I used to have this list of priorities.  I don’t remember everything that was on it, but I think I have a good idea.  Some things I’ve accomplished, others…nope.  But here goes.

I’ve almost finished Steppenwolf finally and go figure, next I’m moving on to Ulysses.  Yep, I’m going to conquer James Joyce.  I tried to read it before and felt the stream of thought aspect of it was kinda pretentious.  Though I like Joyce and he’s definitely an incredible writer, far better than me.  Ulysses just didn’t titillate me.  I don’t like the word titillate, makes me feel perverted.  It’s just the perfect word to use in the context.  Anyway, I’m in a different mindset now, so I want to give it another try.  It’s not one of the greatest novels ever written for no reason.  It took me about a year (estimating) to read Hesse, so this should take me about five years.  Nah, I just have to make it a routine and retrain my brain.

I haven’t bothered cutting down much on smoking these days since school started.  Oh yeah, school and death are good excuses why I got diverted from Steppenwolf, btw.  I have been exercising a lot though, in my basement apartment in Howard’s house, or when the weather was suitable, going for a run.

I tried AA and hated it, but I’ve remained abstained.  Remaining abstained while retraining my brain.  Nice.

That’s a good enough list now, I guess.  I know the old one mentioned Paula, but that’s over.  Then there’s getting a life, which I’m working on.  Being more responsible for Sharly, yep doing that.  Referring to Gary Oldman (II) as Gary Oldman (II) in my journal so as not to confuse myself.  I’m not that easily confused but the future me might have dementia or something.  I expect to maybe one day reread all this shit I’m writing.  Or burn it.  I wonder if I will keep a journal for the rest of my life.  That would be pretty cool.  But it can’t be a legacy or anything.  It’s not like I want my descendants to know how often their great-great-great grandpa jerked off.

I don’t know why I include that information.  Masturbation is also mindlessness and Zen.  And it feels fucking good.  But that’s obvious, so why do I include it here?   Hmmm, good question Grimm.  Thank you, Grimm.  My pleasure, Grimm.  Literally, my pleasure.

My name is Wall Grimm and I’m rambling.  And these days I’ve been rambling in my Stepping Wolves again, since there’s no ice on the road.  All the snow is melting, though it’s still cold.  It’s great to see the grass even though it’s crappy looking.  Some days it’s too windy to wear my Eastwood though, but I’ll carry it around and put it on when the wind dies down.  Gary Oldman (II) doesn’t complain so much when I take her outside.  She even walks around on the ground.  She did not like the Winter at all.  I bought her a little leather jacket that was meant for those little rat dogs, but she hated it.  She ran around the apartment crashing into stuff hoping it would fall off.  I couldn’t catch her right away.  I felt bad, but at the same time I struggled not to laugh.  I didn’t want to embarrass her or piss her off.  Cats hate when they lose a little dignity.  They’re so pompous sometimes.  But that’s why they’re cool.  Gary Oldman (II) held a grudge for a while after that incident.

Dogs are cool because they often have no dignity.  I mean how dignifying is it to shove your nose into someone’s crotch or ass.  That’s not a classy thing to do.  Though I wouldn’t mind doing that to some women.  Imagine that?  “Nice to meet you” and instead of shaking hands, you bend over and smell each other’s crotch.  That’s not funny.  It’s a cliché joke.  I’m sorry.

Those little rat dogs annoy the fuck out of me.  But at the same time they’re so fucking adorable.  Maybe that’s how girls feel about me.  I include the adorable part because I’ve heard that about myself, but also, I wouldn’t get laid so much if there wasn’t something about me that they like.  So it’s not vanity that makes me say that.  I guess I’m annoying as shit but adorable enough to fuck.  That’s me.  Not my opinion of myself, but it’s what I conclude based upon deduction.

And….I apparently have nothing important to say today.  Let me summarize:

Watch “Sharknado” because it’s inane.

I am going to school and endeavoring to read complicated literature even though I’m dense.

I make lists that are often moronic.

I put a leather jacket on a cat, which was idiotic.

I write about jerking off and that’s cretinous.

Rat dogs are nonsensical.

I called myself adorable and that makes me sophomoric.

inane, dense, moronic, idiotic, cretinous, nonsensical, sophomoric = stupid.

I conclude that I’m officially stupefied.

But don’t get me wrong.  I like myself, sometimes, a little more each day.  More proof of imbecility?  I don’t think so.

My theme song for today is, of course, “(The Ballad of) Sharknado” by Quint.  I love this fucking song.  It has a kind of Ramones sound, fucking awesome.

 

*******

previous Grimm 172: Scat, Fork, Douchebag, & Dada http://wp.me/p41c99-IQ

next Grimm 174: Thoughts of Kathy http://wp.me/p41c99-JV

For a chronological list of links to all the journal entries, refer to the Journal Entries Index Page http://wp.me/P41c99-J

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

 

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 171-185 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

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