Posts Tagged With: writing

Regarding “The Journal of Wall Grimm” Blog

I haven’t been keeping up very well with regular posts/journal entries for Grimm and so, for the time being, I’m going to direct my attention to my other blog SAGE DOYLE Fiction and Poetry

That’s not to say that Grimm has come to an end, he will just be on temporary hiatus. 

My current work involves “The Heirloom” which is an ongoing story that I am writing with Arthur Browne at Pouring My Art Out. The story is being posted as written on both of our blogs, so be sure to go check him out.

I will reblog some posts here from my Sage Doyle blog, but if you’re not already following that one, you may want to.  Bear in mind that if I’m following you from one blog, I’m automatically following you from both, so if you don’t get a follow back from me, then I’m already following you.  Confusing?

Anyway, for now I’m going to make the Journal Entries page stagnant during the break, so feel free to roam around and read older entries you haven’t seen, well over 200 of them.  Also, browse the other pages, explore, etc.

I think I will post in the Random Grimmness category, which doesn’t consist of journal entries per se, just some things like thoughts, photographs, and other random contributions by Wall Grimm.

Basically, I’m not done blogging, my focus is just shifting for a little while.  At the Sage Doyle blog, I’ll be writing “The Heirloom” with Art, and possibly be returning to some poetry now and then.

Not gone, so don’t forget.

Feel free to contact me.

Take care,



author page:

Categories: NOTES FROM SAGE DOYLE | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 14 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 223: Iona, Olivia, & Paula

January 7, 2015

Happy New Year, Invisible Journal Reading People.

I have no resolutions.  However, there are some undefined things that I will likely be resolute about.  I may have revelations and I’ll probably succumb to resolves.  But no specific goals or resolutions.  I’m just gonna keep on doing what I do, because I think I’m on the right track in many ways, or at least in as many ways that satisfy me during this period of my life.

Keep on truckin’ Grimm.  Keep on Grimmin’.

Ok, I want to talk about when I saw Olivia, Iona, and Paula over Christmas time.  My name is Wall Grimm, and here is a synopsis of my experience with the ladies past.


IONA – She had wanted to come over my place to bring me a present, which was a new journal and a pen that makes my handwriting look cool.  This happens to be something most people buy me at one point or another.  However, I appreciate and use them all.  I haven’t bought a journal in a long time since I am consistently supplied with them by other people, which is great.  She also got me tickets to go see Brian Regan when he comes to Worcester in March.  wtf that gift is fucking awesome, I love that guy.  I didn’t spend that much on her.  To be honest, I hadn’t gotten her anything until I talked to her.  Last she decided, we were taking a break from our friendship, so I never expected to see her over the holidays.  When she wanted to come by, I told her that I’d rather go to her place.  Two reasons for that:

1. So I could buy her a present before then.

2. To avoid Bogart’s sexually harassing her.  Two reasons for that:

1. She’d probably end up having sex with him, which, when she and I would start hanging out again, would make it complicated because that’s what he would expect.

2. I don’t know…kind of makes me jealous, because she’s kinda mine.  Only because of our history, since I am with Solenne.  Rationally I know I have no claim to Iona, but hey it’s human nature to feel that way.  And I don’t go against my nature.

Thus, I went to Iona’s.  I bought her the entire series of “The Kids in the Hall” on DVD, which made her happy.  She talked about getting back together, though she knew I was with Solenne.  She was just wondering if there was a chance, which there isn’t unless Solenne and I end things at some point that I don’t foresee.  Iona seemed sad and lonely.  She was looking good, pretty hot, since she’s been working out and got in kick ass shape.  She said that now she gets a lot of attention from guys, but before her weight loss, she never did, except for me.  She said I was different from all the other guys, that I thought she was hot before the weight loss and I liked her because of her personality and who she was as a person.  She feels uncomfortable with the attention, awkward in her own body, and kind of wants to hide from the world and men, at times.  It takes her a lot of energy to feel prepared for the attention, and she often feels like she preferred being invisible.  It’s an interesting perspective that I’ve never considered.  I like the attention I get, but then, I’ve always gotten attention.  I mean, in those stupid movies when the nerdy, homely girl or guy get a makeover and they’re suddenly hot, they don’t seem to mind the new attention at all.  That’s realistic, right?

Didn’t think so.

But yeah, Iona was always attractive.  I guess she just didn’t fit the mold of what’s head-turning for most guys.  Most guys tend to pursue whomever causes a second take, which meant that Iona was often looked over.  I am different from most guys.  I give every woman a second take.  Partially because I’m a pervert and partially because women fascinate me, and I find beauty in most women.  I say most because there are some personalities that turn me off, like superficiality, vanity, selfishness, and negativity.  Otherwise, my three predominant turn offs are:

1. Masculine women.  It confuses me when a woman is just as masculine as a man.  They’re great people to hang out with, but I’m usually not attracted to them sexually.

2. Poor hygiene.  Anyone who smells or looks like they might smell turns me off.

3. Women who freak me out.  (see Olivia below)

Anyway, Iona and I are going to hang out as friends again, which is good.  But I still plan to keep her away from Bogart as much as possible.

OLIVIA – She’s a fucking freak.  I mean, that was something I liked until she abducted me.  Now she freaks me out, hence a turn off.  She came into the store sometime before Christmas, I saw her and I was like, yikes!

yikes! = turned off

Turned off is an understatement.

She came in to tell me about her photography exhibit in a gallery in Boston.  It’s not her own personal exhibit, but one that will display the works of numerous local artists.  Her exhibit is titled, “Exploit” and all the photos apparently are of me.  That made me go, yikes! again.  She invited me to go to the open house which kicks off the exhibit.  That’s sometime in January, I think.  She said she’d text me the information and would even have me picked up in a limo, but I haven’t heard from her yet.  I told her I’d think about it.  I really don’t want to spend time with her at all, but I want to see this exhibit.  At the same time, I think it could possibly scare me.  I asked if Solenne could come, and as I suspected, Olivia said no.  That was pretty much it with her, especially since the store was busy with people shopping for Christmas.  As I write this, I am convincing myself that I should go, because I think it’s important to see the images of me being exposed to the world.

PAULA – Paula offered to come pick me up one night after she got out of work.  She took me to her place where she had to “freshen up” from work.  She showered and prepared a dinner for us, so I was there for about an hour before we were sitting down and eating and finally able to talk.  She asked if I was ok with her drinking wine, not wanting to tempt me or cause me to relapse.  I was ok with it that night, some times are more difficult than others.  She drank a lot during the course of the evening and ended up getting drunk.

Before she was drunk she was telling me that she missed me and was hoping we could get back together.  I told her I had a girlfriend.  She said, “but you can live here” and went on to describe a scenario similar to our previous living arrangements.  I could live there and I wouldn’t need to pay rent, I wouldn’t even need to work or anything, I would just do things like I did before, including but not limited to: shoveling, mowing the lawn, raking the leaves, other yard work, maintenance work on the house, running errands, and stuff she defined as “basic men stuff that women are able to do, but would rather not.”  Basically she wanted me to be her kept boy again, which wasn’t a bad situation, but I’m beyond the days when a sugar mama seemed like a good thing for me.  This revealed to me how much I really have grown up.  As a man, I need to support myself and be able to some day support a wife and kids.  Maybe that’s an old fashioned gender role/stereotype, but it’s just my nature to feel that way.  Again, I don’t go against my nature.  Although, it is my nature to want to fuck most women I encounter, and that’s something I’ve had to regulate with varying degrees in my life, usually based upon morals.

I asked Paula if she’s seen any other men.  She said she has, and she’s grateful that I brought her out of her shell to enable her to do that.  Then she said that none of them were like me.  I asked “how so?”  She said that the men she has seen are older, around her own age, and they are settled.  They’re established, set in their ways, their future is paved, stable, and they are predictable.  She said I have a whole life ahead of me and it is still unknown as to which direction it will take.  I could end up being anywhere doing anything at any time.  I have a vitality and a sense of adventure that men her age don’t typically have.  She thrived on the energy of my youth, excluding the self-destructive aspect of it.  I told her that she could find other younger men who’d be interested in her, they’re out there.  She said she knows this, but the problem is that she’s in love with me.  She realized that as she started seeing other men.  She compared them all to me.  She used to compare other men to her late husband.  When she first started seeing me, she compared me with him, and found that the contrasts were all in my favor.  Then we broke up, she saw other men, compared them to me, and the contrasts continued to be all in my favor.  She said she’s in love with me and she’s never loved another man so profoundly, not even her husband, and in fact her love for me made her recognize that she never was in love with him to begin with.

That was kind of too intense for me to process but that was the point when she began to get drunk, and emotional, and start to come on to me.  I had to deter her advances, which was difficult because of my lack of sex that I have been compulsively addressing.  Solenne is not having sex with me.


Even if I wasn’t with Solenne, I couldn’t justify haven’t sex with Paula when she was in a drunken and emotionally vulnerable state.  But yeah she got drunk, and then I had no choice but to stay the night to take care of her.  It was a mess and I felt bad for her.  She was embarrassed the next day and has texted me a few times apologizing.  But who knows if we’ll ever be able to spend time together as friends.  I don’t think she can.  I don’t know why she liked me so much, I think I was kind of an asshole.

But whatever, that’s my tale of ladies past.  I have moved on, though they hold on, yet I’m not sure why.  I think there was a certain level of insecurity with Iona and Paula, and somehow I made them secure, so it’s less about me, and more about how I made them feel.  Olivia is just a fucking perverted freak.

My theme song for this journal entry is “Fever” by The Black Keys, for reasons I’m choosing to withhold, just to be mysterious to myself when I’m 80 years old and reading my old journals, and get pissed off at myself for not explaining those reasons here.


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

next Grimm 224: Solenne



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

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

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 211-235 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 12 Comments

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

December 24, 2014


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

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

2. Salsa sauce

3. Elf on a shelf

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

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

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

That’s weird.

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

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

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


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

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

Her enthusiasm dominated my reluctance.

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

And this was our masterpiece:


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

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

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

Tin Marley in da house.

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

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

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


previous Grimm 220: This Journal Entry Has a Title

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

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

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


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

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 219:

December 18, 2014

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


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

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

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

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

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

4. Salsa sauce

5. Elf on a shelf

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

7. Felt like Ron Swanson dancing

Ok, these notes need clarification.

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

ron swanson

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


Yep.  That’s me.

I blame Astrid.

Allow me to translate the notes:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To be continued…

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



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

next Grimm 220: This Journal Entry Has a Title

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

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

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


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

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

December 4, 2014

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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


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

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

December 2, 2014

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


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

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

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

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

“Do you have juicers?”

“What kind of juicers?”

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

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

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

hang up


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I tune them out with daily distractions.”

“You’re a daily distraction.”

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

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

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

Pete did a spit take with his coffee.

I left the room with my muffin.

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

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

-I hate the number six for some reason.

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

-I pick my nose.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

next Grimm 216: Bogart and Ashley


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This journal entry features Hasty from


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

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 207: Brief Boringness, Undulating Brain Waves, and Grimm’s Philosophy of Attraction

September 27, 2014


Yeah I’ve been a neglectful journal guardian. That’s just the way it is. Been busy. This is my college schedule for my second semester back:

Research Design and Analysis I Tues and Thurs 8 – 9:15

Cognition Tues and Thurs 2 – 3:15

Psych Testing Tues and Thurs 12 – 1:15

Psych of Personality Mon and Fri 8 – 9:15

Group Dynamics SAT 8 – 4

As you can see, Tuesdays and Thursdays are my full days. Monday and Friday I only have the one early class, so I work and I can still go to Blues Monday. I have Wednesdays off, so I don’t work either, that way I have one day off per week. Saturday is my biggest day, but group dynamics is pretty interesting. So that’s my school schedule, then I have Blues Monday, then I work Tues, Thurs, Fri, Sat, Sun. And I am supervising or in a less degrading way of saying it, hanging out with, Bogart the rest of the time, unless I’m doing homework. Then Pete, Cola, or even Astrid spends time with him. When I’m at school or work, one of them spends time with him then too. He still can’t be alone. I get a lot of homework done at work as well so that helps. Sharly lets me. She understands I’m occupied by Bogart in much of my spare time and don’t often have a quiet place. I go into work, fulfill all my responsibilities immediately, unless it’s busy, then once it’s quiet I do my work behind the counter. The coffee house days are not conducive to that though, but I’m doing all right. I also get my work done in between classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Anyway, that’s all boring content and I can hear you snoring ol’ journal o’ mine. Like I did last semester, I’m not going to do a lot of school talk, even though it’s on my mind. Because college isn’t my life, it’s a path to creating my life, and here with you is where I document the real stuff.

Right now I’m going to address random things. My name is Wall Grimm, and here is my journal segment of randomness.


1. When a man is embarrassed or his ego is shattered, it makes him feel like less of a man. When that happens to a woman, she doesn’t feel like less of a woman, she feels like more of a person who has met yet another challenge to survive and make her stronger.

2. I often think of Bogart as the Master of Stating the Obvious. So I’ve begun to refer to that as “masterstating” which makes him laugh. It’s a good way to point out when he’s maybe saying too much or saying something he shouldn’t say without insulting him. So long as he’s laughing, everything’s ok.

3. People always say live each day like it’s the last, and they think they are, but they’re not. Because I ask myself, if this was my last day on Earth, what would I do? Of course, the reality is you can’t just walk away from your responsibilities, so you fulfill those, but during those moments, how are you spending your thoughts? What can you get from those moments, the interactions with strangers, people you work for and with, and in your spare time, what do you do then? So yeah, if you can’t walk away from your responsibilities because it’s not truly your last day on Earth…well, if it was for me, I know for sure I wouldn’t work. But since I have to, I’d glean–glean is a good word–I’d glean from every experience and moment. Then, at the end of the day, if I wasn’t able to have sex or something, I’d go out with a bang after having myself a big wank.

4. The best way to get your point across when you want to say something that would otherwise piss someone off, but it’s important to be honest and confront an issue, is to compliment them or say something nice first. That’s called tact, and it can also sometimes prevent a punch in the face.

5. I was thinking of the various conjugations of the word fuck. Here is my list, which includes many but not all the conjugations:

Fuck, fucking, fucked, fucker, fuck you, fuck off, fuck all, fucks, fucksome, fuckerino, fucken, fuckism, fuckdom, fuckkkk, fucking asshole, fucking stupid, fucking idiot, fuckwad, fuckhead, fucktool, fuckisimo, fuckology, fuckologist, fucky, fuckasm, fuckation, fuckinterim, fucktastic, fucksome, fucktorious, fuckaholic, fuckaphobic, fuckment, fuckable, fuckagogy, fuckade, fuckility, fuckance, fuckard, fucktard, fuckary, fuckarchy, fuckatholon, fuckathon, fuckeneer, fuckcycle, fuckectomy, fuckence, fuckency, fuckeous, fuckhood, fucketic, fuckagon, fuckify, fuckillion, fuckion, fuckish, fuckitive, fuckization, fuckist, fuckive, fuckless, fuckography, fuckship, fuckster, fuckshire, fucktuary, fuckulent, fuckwise, fuckesque, adfuck, afuck, ambifuck, antefuck, antifuck, befuck, bifuck, circumfuck, contrafuck, defuck, demifuck, disfuck, disfucktional, exfuck, extrafuck, hyperfuck, hypofuck, interfuck, intrafuck, introfuck, multifuck, minifuck, prefuck, surfuck, infrafuck, retrofuck, superfuck, semifuck, subfuck, domfuck, subparfuck, obfuck, transfuck, ultrafuck, postfuck, nonfuck, perfuck, unfuck, refuck, epifuck, cofuck, confuck, confucktion, and last but not least, my favorite, veni vidi fucki.

And to end my journal entry today, I’m going to close with a philosophy. I’ve been seeing Solenne a lot lately, though we haven’t had sex or done much more than kiss. Cola told me that I’m afraid of virgins and she thinks that’s cute. I’m not afraid, I just….I don’t know. I won’t get into it right now. That was an accidental pun. Anyway, so I’ve been seeing her and it has made me realize the thing that makes me most attracted to women. So it’s a personal philosophy. My name is Wall Grimm and I have a philosophy that pertains directly to me.


This is something I’ve alluded to before but never formulated it specifically in my thoughts. But what attracts me most to women is confidence. Emma has always been very confident, one of the most confident women I’ve ever known. I thought Paula was confident, but once she started to reveal a little insecurity, and imposing it upon me, in an unspoken sense, to ensure her self-assurance, I responded by pulling away. I tend to be a confident person with random insecurities. But those things about me that make me unsure are not about who I am as a person or what I look like, they are more based upon my choices and actions and the expectations I have of myself to be a responsible, reliable, and efficient man. I don’t need anyone else to enable me to have that confidence. It’s something I get from myself and self-evaluation. Since I’m able to do that, I suppose I unconsciously expect the same from any woman I’d be involved with. I shouldn’t have to be responsible for how someone feels about themselves. I’m not that important. No one is. Of course, it’s nice to tell a woman she’s smart or beautiful, or whatever you think about her that would make her feel good. But that’s just a gesture and it shouldn’t be necessary for her self-validation.

And that’s all I guess I have to say today.

My theme song for today is “Three Little Birds” by Bob Marley, which isn’t relevant to anything I’ve written, so it goes along with the randomness I’ve documented. Plus I love this song.


previous Grimm 206: Grimm, Bogart, Pete, Cola, & Gary Oldman (II) Go Camping

next Grimm 208: The Drunken Maiden’s Morning After


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

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

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 186-210 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 23 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 205: Teetotaling Grimm and the Drunken Maiden

August 12, 2014


So Saturday was my birthday and people got me some presents, but they respected my wishes and didn’t do anything big.  I went out for lunch with my parents because if I didn’t see my mom on my birthday, then she’d get upset.  My aunt tagged along because she was visiting from out of town.  She kept pointing out steak and pork and chicken dishes for me and I had to keep saying that I’m vegetarian.  Finally it sunk in and she said, sounding very Italian, “what’s wrong with you, you don’t eat meat, a man should eat meat, you need meat.”

“I don’t need meat.”

“Maybe you should have some meat, Valente.”  My mom out of nowhere decided to reconsider my vegetarianess.

“I don’t need meat, Mama.”

I decided on pasta primavera, because at least it was Italian and that satisfied my aunt.  For dessert, they had the staff of the restaurant come over and sing to me.  There’s the center of attention thing that I don’t like, but it was a thoughtful gesture.

Other than that, I got Gary Oldman (II) some new toys and treats because it was her birthday too, and I took the night off from work to spend the day and evening alone.  It feels like it’s been a long time since I’ve had solitude of any quantity and/or quality.  I was feeling pretty good about myself, confident, assured in my accomplishments and responsibility, so I believed I was capable of going into a bar and not drinking.  I just wanted the bar scene, it’s been so long.  There’s something comforting about it, being surrounded by people who are having a good time, some of them acquaintances, many of them strangers, and myself alone seated at the bar watching them all, getting perspective on things.  Yet usually I’d be drinking whiskey or beer or both and I’d end up shitfaced and my perspective only involved being able or unable to present myself sober, while others probably saw me as drunk off my ass.  Perspective.

Anyway, I was good, I didn’t drink, and that was awesome.  I sat at the bar and I got apple juice and tonic water on ice, which is as close to whiskey as I could think to have.  More tonic water than apple juice though because otherwise it would be too sweet.  I didn’t want nonalcoholic beer because it’s too close to the real thing, and like I said before, there’s an element of dissatisfaction with it.  Since it’s so close, there’s the anticipation of the alcohol in your blood which just isn’t there.  Being in a bar with that lack of gratification wouldn’t be a good idea.  But yeah, I was good, I didn’t drink, I was teetotaling Grimm.

Then this girl came up to the bar beside me to order a drink.  She was pretty cute and while she was waiting for her Sex on the Beach, no pun intended, she glanced at me.  At first it was one of those passive looks that girls give to guys in bars, which suggests they’re acknowledging a presence, but it’s more of a looking-right-through-you kind of notice.  But I nodded a subtle greeting and then her eyes allowed her to see me and she kind of lit up and said, “hi!”  I turned to be sure she wasn’t talking to someone behind me because it seemed she was addressing someone familiar, but no, she meant me.

She stayed and talked to me for the rest of the night.  At first I gave her my stool, then I sat when the one beside her was available.  We talked and flirted, and she drank, and I didn’t.  Her name was Megan.  She seemed ok for a while, as in holding her liquor.  I didn’t notice how much she was drinking.  Then she stood because I said I wanted to go out for a smoke.  She stood and it all hit her and she was instantly and intensely intoxicated.  Before I had a chance to stand, she fell over into my arms, only because I had to catch her.  She wrapped her arms around my neck and pressed her body into mine, then whispered in my ear that she wanted to fuck me.  Of course I was tempted, because how can that not make a guy horny?  But she was really drunk and I was completely sober, so that didn’t seem right.  I had her sit back down, but her drunkenness kind of made her an instant slut.  She began rubbing my legs and said, “you work out, I can tell, your thighs are rock hard.”  I mumbled so she couldn’t hear, “that’s not all that’s rock hard.”  But she heard me, oops.  She laughed and was like, “ooooh” and she started groping me and trying to undo my pants, so I had to move her hands away.  She said in that very loud drunk voice people get when they’re saying something no one else around them should hear, “you are sooo hard!”  Then she was feeling my arms and she made me stand up.  At first, I was like no, I’m not standing, but she wouldn’t let up so I did.  She lifted my shirt and began feeling my stomach.  All the while I was just kind of taking it but at the same time deterring it from becoming too excessive.  But then she stopped two girls passing by and insisted they feel my abdomen.  I had three girls feeling my abs, it was like a freakin’ porn, so I pulled away because I was really hard and I didn’t want to lose myself.

The girls finally left when Megan said, “ok now stop touching him, he’s mine.”  Then she proceeded to wrap her arms around me and feel my ass.  She was like, “you can tell how good a guy is in bed by his ass.  I can tell you’re a good fuck.”

That’s when I was like, all right let’s find your friends.  We searched the bar and asked around and it seemed her friends left.  I told her to call or text them, but apparently they had her purse with her cell in it.  I had walked there, it was over an hour walk, and I was planning to take a taxi home, so I couldn’t drive her anywhere.  But I said I’d get a taxi to get her home, and I’d ride with her to be sure she got there safely.  She said she didn’t want to go home.  I suggested a friend’s.  She said, “no, let’s go to your place.”

I had the bartender call for a taxi and we had a smoke outside while we waited for it.  At first she took her shoes off and she shrunk about 5 inches.  She only went up to my armpit.  But she still had a hard time standing so I sat on the pavement beside her, leaning against the building.  I figured once we’d get in the cab we could drive a little and I could get her address out of her.  But she passed out while we were driving.  Out fucking cold.  So we went to my place, I picked her up over my shoulder since I still couldn’t wake her, and carried her upstairs to my apartment.

I laid her on my bed with a bucket in case she had to puke and a glass of ginger ale, then I went out on the couch to jerk off and crash as soon as possible.  All the roomies were in bed since it was nearly 3am by then.  About an hour later, she started puking, and she puked for a few hours until she fell asleep and stayed asleep.  We were in the bathroom at that point, both sleeping on the floor.  I had dozed off after her.  About 8am I woke and carried her back to my bed, then went back on the couch, but Pete and Cola were getting up.  I told them what was going on and I went in Pete’s room to sleep.  And that day, the day after, is another story altogether.  Until next time…

My theme song for this journal entry is “Last Nite” by The Strokes.


previous Grimm 205: Grimm’s Birthday, Harmonica, and Underwear

next Grimm  206: Grimm, Bogart, Pete, Cola, & Gary Oldman (II) Go Camping

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

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

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 186-210 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 12 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 204: Grimm’s Birthday, Harmonica, and Underwear

August 9, 2014


Today’s my birthday, I’m 25.  I don’t have anything specifically planned to celebrate and I requested that everyone I know ignore it and treat it like any other day.  I’m not sure if that will happen, but one can hope.  Last year was when I burned the scrapbook Emma gave me.  I never really liked being the center of attention.  I’m not insecure, but I kind of exist in my own world and when I’m excessively acknowledged and focused in on, it penetrates that private realm.  I’m also really bad at remembering birthdays, so I guess I kind of feel guilty when other people remember mine even though I forget theirs.  Today is also Gary Oldman (II)’s birthday.  She’s a year old.  I estimated her age when I found her.  She was a kitten, but I found her around this time, so I gave her my birthday in order to remember.  I realize now that I never acknowledged Valentina’s birthday.  And now I feel horrible.  She would’ve been a year old.  Maybe I unconsciously sabotaged my memory of it because it has the potential to destroy me.

Ok, on to other things.  I haven’t seen Solenne since our date.  She went to England with her uncle not long after, and they’ve been gone all this time.  They’re visiting other family, then she’ll be returning home and starting college.  We’re actually going to attend the same college, which is cool.

Other than that, the rest of this journal entry will be about my harmonica and my underwear.

I like to hang out in my underwear, bikini briefs usually, that’s just the way it is, I’ve said this before.  I also like to clean that way, while listening to music and dancing to it.  Recently, I was doing such and listening to the radio rather than cd’s.  Pete was out with Bogart, taking him clothes shopping, because Bogart barely has any clothes and he likes a lot of the shit I wear, so Pete thought he could help him expand his wardrobe.  That’s more of a Pete thing to do.  I hate shopping.  Cola was home and helping to clean.  So we’re listening to the radio and “Love is Like Oxygen” by Sweet came on and I’m dancing and cleaning and Cola was like, “why do you clean in your underwear, Wall Grimm?”  I was like, “I dunno.”  She said, “dancing to disco in your bikini underwear is kind of effeminate, you know.”  I said, “no it isn’t.” “Whatever you say, Caballero.”

At one point I took a break to have a smoke but instead I started to play my harmonica.  I’ve been trying to quit and I find that the harp is a good way of distracting me from smoking.  I get sucked into the notes and separate from the world around me, like I just go off to another plane of existence and get lost, as if I’m channeling the spirit of a master harpist and the music that results is like nothing I could create otherwise.  It comes from a source I tap into that I just can’t explain.  So I went out on the balcony and was playing.  Astrid was below and she told me to come down and play there and have a smoke with her.  I told her I was in my underwear, she said that’s ok, so was she.

I went down and she was like wtf, saying I was practically naked, she figured I was in boxers and a t-shirt or something.  I said, “well, I don’t care if you don’t care.”  She said she didn’t care.  But she wasn’t in her underwear and when I pointed that out, she said she went in and put on some shorts.  I said I figured she wouldn’t care if I was in my underwear because I heard her conversation with her friend Matt when she said it would be disgusting to fuck me.  She explained that I’m not disgusting, it’s just that she’s old enough to be my mother.  I knew that’s what she meant.  I told her that a couple years ago I was involved with Paula, who was 50.  She asked my age again and I said my birthday was coming up, I was going to be 25.  She expressed that it was wrong that Paula got involved with me.  She asked what I thought about a 50 year old man getting involved with a 23 year old girl.  I admitted that I’d think he was a pervert.  But I think it’s different for some reason.  We kind of ended the conversation there and had a smoke.  But then she told me to put something on, she changed her mind.  So I went up and put on my Eastwood and Stepping Wolves.  She thought that was pretty funny.  I started on the harp and soon after, her friend Matt showed up.  He seemed appalled that I was sitting there in my bikini briefs in front of the woman he’s obsessed with.  I stopped playing, took off my Eastwood and covered my crotch.  I said that I had to put something on anyway because for some reason when I play it gets me hard, so I went up to put some pants on.  I heard Matt’s voice saying shit, and I know it was about me by the tone, but I couldn’t discern what he was saying.  The tone in Astrid’s voice was defensive, of both herself and of me.  That’s the sense I got.

Anyway, there was another day after that I was home alone, hanging out in my underwear and playing on the harp.  I didn’t hear the texts I was getting.  A couple were from Ayla who wanted to come by since she hadn’t seen the new place yet.  The roomies were all out together.  Cola wanted to get some art supplies, and then they were going grocery shopping.  We take turns teaching Bogart day to day type responsibilities.  But he’s kind of a challenge from time to time and it’s better if there’s two of us with him.  Unless it’s me.  I can handle him on my own, but it can be exhausting.

So Ayla shows up, knocks on the door and I answered it.  I could hear Cola’s voice in my head, “why do you answer the door in your underwear, Wall Grimm?”  And since I’ve only been on one date with Solenne and she’s not my girlfriend, I decided to accept a blowjob from Ayla.  I figured that when and if Solenne becomes my girlfriend, it may be a long time that I’ll have to go without sex.  I’ve been without for about 2 weeks now, or more, I lost track, since Iona is taking time away from me.  Not long after she decided to do that, I met Solenne and haven’t pursued sex since she’s my focus.  But when opportunity knocks, as Ayla did, it helps.

I was on the couch and she was kneeling on some cushions on the floor, and it was just as I was cumming that the roomies returned home.  I came hard and I was pretty loud and when I was done, I opened my eyes and all three of them were standing there.  They had just come in at the end, I imagine, since Cola would more likely guide the others away and allow me some privacy.  But as I said before, Pete’s a closet pervert.  So I said, “Pete, you pervert.”  He said, “Me??  They’re here too.”  “by default.”  “What’s that even mean?”  I shrugged.

Cola said, “it’s good to see you weren’t lonely in our absence, Wall Grimm.”


Bogart just stood looking astounded for a moment before he went off, “Blimey!!!  I wan’ one!”  He approached us, pulled his pants and underwear down to his knees.  “I wan’ one, come on now, love, give us one, let’s ‘ave a go, crack on then,” or something very British like that, a raunchy request sounding proper somehow.

I wanted to say, no Bogart she’s mine, but Ayla spoke up.  First she gawked at his junk and said, “Nice!  That’s some equipment you’ve got there.”  Then she added, “but no, thank you.  I only do this for Grimm.”

I said, “what, really?”



“I don’t know.  What the hell do you think of me?  You think I give everyone blowjobs?  Nope, just you.”

I never thought of it, but I guess I assumed that she did, that she enjoyed giving blowjobs.  I had no idea it was just me.  What the fuck does someone say to that?  I said, “…thank you…. …?”

“You’re welcome.”

Now I wonder if I’m the only one she fucks too.  And I’m thinking back to something Sharly said to me way back when.  She said girls want more from me than sex, but I usually only want sex and that’s clear from the start, so they do it just to have me at least in some way.  Sharly said it, not me, and she phrased it better.  It feels vain to find validity in that, and makes me feel like an asshole, though it’s not how I purposely go about my way or anything.  I never thought that Ayla might be one of those girls.  My psychicisms have failed me in terms of Ayla.  Sex kind of puts a wall up against my intuition.  Ironically, a wall.  I am a man of many walls.  I am Wall.  I am Wall Grimm.

And my theme song of course is “Love is Like Oxygen”, by Sweet.



previous Grimm 203: Master of Stating the Obvious & Grimm in Love

next Grimm 205: Teetotaling Grimm and the Drunken Maiden

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

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


Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 186-210 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 21 Comments

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 202: Supplying Chocolate, Vacuuming Private Parts, the Beach, & Lizard King Competition

July 31, 2014


I have a few things to talk about today.  My next entry I’ll discuss the tri-couple date.  I guess that makes it a triple date.  A double date should be called a quadruple date, since there’s four people.  Our date should be called a sextuple.  But that gives the wrong idea about the date.  So I’ll just call it a triple, which has good connotations in baseball anyway, which has its own connotations for sex.  I’ll stop myself there.

My name is Wall Grimm and here are a few brief stories:


1.  I’m not only supplying Astrid with smokes, wine, and toilet paper, but I’ve also begun to buy her chocolate.  She doesn’t want it at her place because she says she’ll eat it… …though that’s the point.  It’s at my place and she texts whenever she’s fiending.  I’m doing this for two reasons.  First, she spilled M&M’s outside of her car one day, and later that night she went out to eat them off the ground.  After eating some, she went inside to get a flashlight to find the rest and returned to see they were covered in ants.  Protein.  Next thing she did was dig through her trash for Dunkin’ Donuts munchkins she’d thrown away.  Here’s a woman who takes desperate measures to consume chocolate when she has a craving.  I’ve decided to be her supplier to prevent her from armed robbery over an Almond Joy.

2.  Astrid, Cola, Pete, Bogart, and I had a fire pit going Monday night.  I was in a strange mood and the fire was huge so I stood before everyone with the fire in front of me and declared, “I am the Lizard King!  I can do anything!”  It’s one of my favorite quotes, and it’s by Jim Morrison, who keeps invading my journal.  Anyway, this inspired Bogart.  He jumped up, shoved me out of the way, punched me in the face and shouted, “No!  I am the Lizard King!  An’ I can do anyfing!  Ya cunt!”  I retaliated by shoving him down to the ground and punching him in the face a couple times, then we had a mini brawl that Astrid yelled for us to stop.  But I was annoyed because this was after Bogart and I talked and he had agreed not to hit me in the face anymore because I’m tired of walking around looking beat up all the time.  He’s also not supposed to hit me in the stomach unexpectedly because I don’t want any internal damage or to die like Houdini.

3.  Saturday before I went to work, we were cleaning because I wanted the place presentable in case anyone came home with us after the date on Sunday.  Bogart was vacuuming.  He’d never used a vacuum before.  At one point he had just the tube to get in a corner or something, and he discovered the suction qualities of the vacuum on his pant leg.  He began putting it on other parts of his clothing, then he went at my shirt with it.  He was very entertained.  Then he undid his pants and pulled them down.  I was like, “no, man, don’t put that on your dick.”  He said ok, put it on his testicle, and began hollering and panicking when he couldn’t get it off.  I unplugged the vacuum.  He started whining about how now one of his testicles was “longer” than the other and that they were uneven.  He kept asking me to look and confirm it.  I didn’t look but I was just like, “no they’re the same.”  He plugged the vacuum in, suctioned the other one, then unplugged the vacuum again.  He said, “there, ‘at’s be’a!”

Now I’ll describe the Friday beach trip with me, Astrid, and Bogart.  First thing I had to do when we got there was take him to the men’s room so he could jerk off.  As we were driving around looking for a parking place, the amount of hot girls in bikinis was too much for him.  He’s getting better though, since he announced in the car that he needed “a wank” without just doing it.  After that I instructed him to keep his sunglasses on and ogle discretely without saying anything, and that he’d probably get more attention himself that way, since he is an attractive guy.  Basically I was advising him to not act like such a goofball, but not in those words.  As a result he did get attention, and phone numbers.  I avoided the women myself for two reasons.  1.  Astrid’s cool to hang with.  I also didn’t want to be rude.  Plus my presence deterred any attention that she didn’t want.  2.  I didn’t want distractions from Solenne.  I officially met her the day before, and our date was to be on Sunday.  I was only thinking of her.

Bogart was good and didn’t grope any of them.  He’s a fast learner, and he’s great at mimicking behavior, such as when he sees how I behave with girls.  He was talking to about 5 girls at once, at one point.  His accent is a magnet.  As an experiment I went up to them all and said hello, introducing myself as Valente, in my mock Italian accent, and they were all like “oooh, an Italian man.”  They literally said that.  One girl even put her hand on my chest and said she loved chest hair it’s so manly.  Then I had to go away, since I was in the speedo shorts I got with Hasty, an erection would’ve been obvious.

Later along the boardwalk, we went to the Cascade Café, where Astrid ordered a “penis colada”.  That’s actually what she said to the waitress.  Bogart thought that was hysterical.  He wanted to drink but I wouldn’t let him because of his medication, and he accepted that because I can’t drink either.  Astrid was like, “oh yeah!” and told me then I can drive home, since she drove there.  We took her convertible.

While we were on the upper patio at the café, Bogart noticed the water slides and wanted to try them.  I went down with him and he went on it repeatedly until he threw up because he only ate tons of fried dough the whole day.

Back to the beach, we finally went in the ocean, since Bogart was too busy talking to girls before.  It took him a while to get in since the water was cold he said it hurt his bollocks.  But it wasn’t long before he was jumping the waves and having fun, yet still distracted by girls.  He’s got no concept of age appropriateness, I’ve learned.  Some of those girls, who are clearly very young to me, maybe 14ish, they’ve got the bodies of 18+ year olds and Bogart can’t tell the difference, so I had to explain to him to be careful about that.

Two more things:

Bogart joined a group of about 5 kids ages ranging from 5 – 12, and built an elaborate sand castle.  At first his approach to the kids kind of freaked the moms out, but I told them he was harmless, he’s never been to the beach before, and since the kids were building the castle near their moms, they were able to supervise, and realize he was essentially like a kid himself.

Bogart almost got a tattoo, but I discouraged him against it until he could pick something meaningful.  At the time, his sense of meaningful was an image of a girl with big tits that he saw on the tattoo artists’ wall.  I told him that’s not really a good idea.

My theme song is by Flight of the Concords, “We’re Both in Love with a Sexy Lady” because I think, if not for my interest in Solenne, Bogart and I would have the potential to go after the same girls.  I’m not used to the competition, which is probably why I don’t even bother.  I instantly resign and allow Bogart all the opportunity.  Maybe I’m being a good wing man, or maybe my ego is unconsciously concerned that some women would choose Bogart over me and I don’t want to find out if that’s true, so I’d rather not have to face it.  Very bizarre in psychological terms once you start getting into the unconsciousness of the ego.



previous Grimm 201: Grimm Meets a Girl

next Grimm 203: Master of Stating the Obvious & Grimm in Love

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

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

Categories: JOURNAL ENTRIES 186-210 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 19 Comments

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