Tattoo Nirvana
Just sat in a chair under intense lights and had pain inflicted on me of biblical proportions.
Was I a prisoner or war?
No.
Was I being interogated by the CIA?
No.
Was I in rehab?
No.
I was sitting for 4 1/2 hours in a barber chair getting a tattoo. I finally got my "dad memorial" tattoo on my right arm.
It's a cartoon picture someone drew of him in his Green Beret uniform with all the requisite gear. At the top it says "Wild Bill" (which is what they called him in Vietnam) and on the bottom it says 1930-1995. It's very classy and I'm very proud of it.
I wish he could have seen it.
I always wonder about the psychology of tattoo's. It hurts. It hurts so very badly. This one is on my bicep from the top of my arm to the bend of my elbow (so it can still be hidden by short sleeved shirts!) and went around on the TENDER part of my inner arm. Just pinch yourself there and see if you don't jump. Now envision millions of puncture wounds concentrated in that one location.
Maybe you too can wonder at the psychology behind it.
They are very meaningful to me. They are rebelious. They are a status symbol in the worst of society.
So why, oh why, do I love them so much.
Maybe for the same reason I still want to be in a rock band.
Maybe for the same reason that I feel sorry for the downtrodden of our world.
I'm really not sure.
All I'm sure of is that I'm glad this one is over because it hurt really, really bad.
And yea, I ditched work this afternoon to do it. I had a 6pm appointment scheduled but I wanted to spend Friday night with my baby so I snuck out at lunch and didn't return. But don't worry - I'll be there bright and early Saturday morning to pick up my pieces.
So for tonight, I will bask in the glow of pain well spent, and along with a very strong white russian I will sit on the couch with my "good" arm around my girl and thank the Good Lord that I live in a country where I can do as I please.
And I hope you do the same.
Keith loves Paige............
Peace.
Was I a prisoner or war?
No.
Was I being interogated by the CIA?
No.
Was I in rehab?
No.
I was sitting for 4 1/2 hours in a barber chair getting a tattoo. I finally got my "dad memorial" tattoo on my right arm.
It's a cartoon picture someone drew of him in his Green Beret uniform with all the requisite gear. At the top it says "Wild Bill" (which is what they called him in Vietnam) and on the bottom it says 1930-1995. It's very classy and I'm very proud of it.
I wish he could have seen it.
I always wonder about the psychology of tattoo's. It hurts. It hurts so very badly. This one is on my bicep from the top of my arm to the bend of my elbow (so it can still be hidden by short sleeved shirts!) and went around on the TENDER part of my inner arm. Just pinch yourself there and see if you don't jump. Now envision millions of puncture wounds concentrated in that one location.
Maybe you too can wonder at the psychology behind it.
They are very meaningful to me. They are rebelious. They are a status symbol in the worst of society.
So why, oh why, do I love them so much.
Maybe for the same reason I still want to be in a rock band.
Maybe for the same reason that I feel sorry for the downtrodden of our world.
I'm really not sure.
All I'm sure of is that I'm glad this one is over because it hurt really, really bad.
And yea, I ditched work this afternoon to do it. I had a 6pm appointment scheduled but I wanted to spend Friday night with my baby so I snuck out at lunch and didn't return. But don't worry - I'll be there bright and early Saturday morning to pick up my pieces.
So for tonight, I will bask in the glow of pain well spent, and along with a very strong white russian I will sit on the couch with my "good" arm around my girl and thank the Good Lord that I live in a country where I can do as I please.
And I hope you do the same.
Keith loves Paige............
Peace.
posted by KK at 6:17 PM
1 Comments:
When you first mentioned tattoos in your interview with Beth, it made me think of the film The Illustrated Man which I happened to bump into at the store the other day. Now you've mentioned (white) Russians and I've just been blasting them on my blog. It's a mad mad mad mad mad world Mr. Kennedy.
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