2018 has been a year of a lot of firsts for me.
A couple months back I went to my first hip-hop show (Ski Mask The Slump God. Dude is the shit), I started back to creating visual art for the first time in a decade, and I started reconnecting with people who’ve really mattered to me—including a couple friends from 30 years back—and it’s been amazing.
This last three days have been a whirlwind of emotions and sudden oppurtunitny.
It’s been dope as fuck.
Anywho, there’s gonna be a lot more firsts out of me, so this is gonna be a regular thing on the ye olde website (Yup, I’m gonna write up the hip-hop show after I wrap up the current article I’m working, but more on that later). And with these firsts coming up, I’m hoping to take a few of you along with me for the ride. This is my first Jordan year, kids, and I’m looking to put together my Bulls.
More on that shit as things progress.
Okay, last thing. Gotta give my dudes Kieran Shea and John Rector a shout out. You guys have been my rocks for so long that I don’t know what I’d do without you. Respect & Love, you fat bitches.
Let’s talk about my first tattoos.
Here’s the thing, I’ve never wanted tats.
My thought on ‘em is it’s for folks who’ve never experienced real pain & are curious; folks who know pain all too well & are WAY too into it; awkward girls who want to seem interesting; and, finally, dudes who wanna look like tough guys but who would break like glass after one punch.
Here’s the thing, with the 21st century, you more or less HAVE to wear your philosophy on your sleeve, so that’s what I did.
YOU ARE ONE OF US
And this is everyone.
We are all US.
We all BELONG.
You, me, the Chinese man pacing & smoking with worry that his baby will be a girl, because he loves her even though he’s never even seen her face & it will be impossible to take the baby away from his wife; the kid in Chicago whose being made a slave (Or killed) for the rest of his life for a bag of weed; the Mexican mother in some shit eating concentration camp separated from her 3-year-old son & she cries herself to sleep every night; the people losing their jobs; the generous rich who do everything in their power to make life better for others, because they know that homeless man, that working family living under a bridge in a cardboard house, that could be them.
This has nothing to do with faith or religion or nonsense like that. Those of you who know me alright know my thoughts on that evolutionary necessity & how we’ve outgrown it.
I’ve been seeing Social Ink around for awhile when I get the chance to eat at the little Thai place next door—so FUCKING good!—and I thought to myself: “Self, you should call these dudes & book a consultation.”
And I did.
Went in & watched the owner of the shop, John, work on a nice young lady, & decided to book the job. My artist (Who from here on out will be known as Action Tony, because he kinda reminds me of Action Bronson, but, you know, a little shorter & a lot less heavier) Action Tony was this cool, chilled out kid who was into some sick horror flicks (BTW, check out the remake of Maniac, so good) & cool art. Tony drew out the stencil, it was great, then he prepped, & I slipped into the memory castle (I’ll explain this cool little construct somewhere down the road) & relived my oldest daughter’s birth while listening to Lil Wayne & prepped for pain.
Action Tony went to work while I listened to more Lil Wayne, & I didn’t feel anything.
Seriously, I almost went to sleep a couple times, but then I would snap to, talk to Tony for a few minutes, then zone. To be fair, I do have a tad bit of nerve damage, &, you know, 30 years of typing has it’s benefits; my forearms are like rubber, really strong rubber.
2 ½ hours later my first tats were done.
Then I went & got some Thai food, hit Wal*Mart for soap & went back to the hotel & slept the sleep of champions.
So, if you’re in Mesa, AZ & are looking to get some ink, stop into Social Ink & ask for Action Tony.
Alright, gang, gotta get back to work. Enjoy your turkey day.