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 |    Not for the faint of art. |
| Do you have any tattoos or want one in the future? If you had to have a piece of art permanently on your body, what would you want it to say about you? No. No, I most certainly do not. As I've mentioned numerous times, my dad was a sailor. Back in his day, pretty much the only people who got tattoos were sailors, whores, and circus geeks (not to be confused with science geeks, who may or may not have tattoos). While that's no longer the case, he managed to go his whole career and life without once getting the needle. He'd paraphrase Leviticus: "Thou shalt not put shit on thy skin." More like LevitiCUSS, right, Dad? Told you: sailor. I certainly don't put any stock in the customs or superstitions of Bronze Age goatherders, and I don't think people with tattoos (depending on their location) are any more or less worthy of respect or time. But as far as honoring my parents goes, the least I can do is follow his example on this one thing. No, I mean it's literally the least I can do. That said, I'm not a fan at all. A tattoo is something I like someone in spite of, not because of. Or at least it doesn't factor into any dislike I might have (again, depending on the location - someone with a face tattoo is immediately suspect in my estimation). I'm aware that, nowadays, most people have tattoos. A lot of them claim it's expressing their individuality. I express my individuality by not having any. And by wearing shaka shirts and Birkenstocks, but mostly by not having tattoos. "Hey, I express my individuality by doing what everyone else in my peer group is doing! Look at my tattoo!" Don't get me wrong - I've seen some that are great art. That doesn't change the fact that I find the whole idea disgusting. I've seen great art in museums and on retaining walls, too. If I were to change my mind - one thing that not having tattoos allows me the freedom to do at some point - I know what I'd want. A stylized sun, with the words "But Mama, that's where the fun is." Probably on my upper arm. But I'm not going to do it. There's really no need; anyone who knows me already knows I'm a Springsteen fan, and anyone who doesn't will probably get the wrong idea anyway - the more famous version of the song was a Manfred Mann cover with stupidly misheard lyrics - or they just won't care. And that's the bottom line for me: I just don't care what you put on your skin. I care what's beneath it. Or I don't care at all. I went down last night with a tattoo madam To a nude dagger fantasy domain Wrapped in hell, I lost my breath Chest to stimulating Chinese breast Grisly smiles, that don't flake off Corny-colored demons leering Vampire photos, sucking the skin Seeding the night at the inker's parlor Flash permabrand pricked for a dollar Her wrist surreal a heart and flying skull Lettered "Life and love pass swiftly" Grisly smiles, that don't flake off Corny-colored demons leering Vampire photos, sucking the skin |
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