Tattooing was a huge part of my life for many lost years.  Maybe there is a serious correlation there (that is another post and possibly years of lying in a chaise longue talking about my mother), but as I've aged it has slowly been left, not by the wayside, but I'd say on a backburner.  It is no longer the defining factor of my person or a fixation.  Perhaps I have reached this stage not because of an imminent necessity to mature mentally, but because of what I encounter in my now brief interactions with tattooing.  All the new work I see is mainly alterations of old classics or just plain mediocre.  That's life when you get into a culture and tunnel down to a certain depth- it all looks the same.  But this guy, this guy, Henry Lewis, he is one of the different ones.

http://theskullandsword.com/artists/henry-lewis

Understandable when you see he works alongside Grime and other leaders of tattooing.  The rabbit with petals particularly blew me away.  Not that I would want a rabbit on me, but damn it struck a chord.  Ironically it is in my opinion a simple tattoo.  And then he bangs out a b&w semi-demonic sheep's head that oozes talent.  Amazing stuff.

Anyways, he kind of, sort a, gets me hard for this old, inky mistress of mine.  If only I could get Todaro to get something with me...

Seasons

So it is almost summer now, at least I think it is almost summer- it might in fact snow next week so who knows.  It is time to molt and shed that layer of pasty-white winter skin and blossom into a magnificent summer beast.  Or, dwell on the fact you are not in shape and struggling to find motivation to go for a run, to pick up a weight or basically leave the house.  If only I could snap my fingers and be tanned and in shape.

Instead I will do what I do every summer and buckle down and work hard.  Who am I kidding, I'm going to have a Smirnoff Ice and eat chips in my tiny apartment.

Join me.

Fucking banjo.

Some have kids...

Others have bottles

Hope

I know what I want for Christmas more than anything on Earth.  My girlfriend in a beautiful, possibly slutty black wig.  The room does not have to be so close to the sun that everything radiates yellow.

Mood changer

No I don't want to blog about aphrodisiacs.  I want to talk about the scraps of sanity that remain during the Fall.  I come by them rarely, and prize them like, well, a cool prize.

Sunlight.  It kills me.  It wakes me up and slaps me hard across the face.  Not like those erotic porno-slaps you see in hard porn, but like a real ball clinching slap.  I love those harsh, cutting lines thrashing across a room reviving some inanimate object seconds ago merely lifelessly collecting dust.  I can feel it's warmth on my fingertips.  I can imagine, if i had a cat, that it would be slouched in the vicinity if not under the ray of life-giving light. 

Plus you can make dicks on the wall with shadows puppets.  Score.

State of mind

Had the pleasure of seeing that amazing, brooding bastard Bon Iver last night. It was spectacular the way he could invoke emotion with only his voice and a guitar.

But it made me realize the way we digest music is completely reliant on a slice in time. When I fell in love with Bon Iver I was miserable- he was my teammate, my brother. I could curl up in a ball and spit my frustration musically like he would if ever he got his dexterous fingers on "Emma".

Hearing him sing about anorexic beauty (skinny love? What else could it be about), I realized, tragically, that I would not be able to swallow his emotion as an accomplice any longer.
Being happy I no longer feel the same about that first album. I can't relate, I won't relate.

I wish I could forever listen to RATM and be in fury, Phoenix and want to skip in my shoes, and Bon Iver and want to wet the earth with the blood of my veins. But I can't. That time is gone, that mood forgotten. That album will always be a snapshot in time of a Me of old.

It saddens me, but in reality it is good to see I'm evolving and growing as a person- I told you I would mom! Bury your Emma and find your Lemonade.

Someone should tell him to date a girl in Mexico.