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...sorry, Mr. Bradbury. thinkin' about ink. imbedded in the skin. better choose it right can't change it once it's in. just heard OldCrowMedicineShow on Co-Nan... that melody just fit with something on my mind. scarifying the flesh. there's only one intentional puncture mark that i chose, eons ago. left earlobe. hurt like a motherfucker, too, but it's still open. took the hematite stud out just before they discovered that it litters the surface of Mars, in a fit of petulance when the Big Scene happened a few weeks ago. now, i'm thinking about more, lots more, with ink in it. actually, it's been bubbling in the back of my brain for a while. there's some amazing design and color in tatoos, these days. Hell, without it, there'd be no suicidegirls. but... to display something on the body, that has to pass the test of time. well, i'm not considering my own skin to be a temple or anything. but oh, the mistakes i've seen. the cross with rays coming out of it. initials... many. love and hate tattoed across the knuckles. old english lettering with all caps. butterflies on saggy asses. in another life, when i was smoldering with Pam (she won't be reading this), i soon discovered her extensive illustration. everywhere, long before it was cool. i liked the mercury wings at the ankles, though. a fellow DJ asked me to design something for him, not long ago. so the thought rose again. and then it hit me. with the violent ebb-and-flow of my existence, what better than a wave.  Hokusai-style. i spent some time in the early morning, exploring some sites, deciding on The Great Wave Off Kanagawa, or a variation. mastery, that sweep, those colors. it's on the shirt i'm wearing. might soon be somewhere more permanent. i saw the same colors in the sky, as i spent the afternoon on the lawn tractor. then, nature produced another wave, that i immediately found shelter from.
is that verification? |
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