I admit to never understanding the predilection for ink that utterly consumes certain folks. As it is, he proudly points to the massive work that adorns the length of his chest, gesticulating towards it by curving the index finger of his right hand inward. It's an impressive study in spiraling letters and flowing cursive that cost him a mere five hundred dollars.
I don't think of such things as remotely artistic and can't help thinking about better ways to spend my money. It seems wasteful, particularly when so many people are going hungry in the world. The design reminds me of airbrushed first names designed to be displayed on the front plates of cars, the kind sold by beach front vendors during Spring Break and sported by women with no conception of how to tastefully apply makeup or properly maintain their hair.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
~Ink by Comrade Kevin~
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I admit to never understanding the predilection for ink that utterly consumes certain folks. As it is, he proudly points to the massive work that adorns the length of his chest, gesticulating towards it by curving the index finger of his right hand inward. It's an impressive study in spiraling letters and flowing cursive that cost him a mere five hundred dollars.
I don't think of such things as remotely artistic and can't help thinking about better ways to spend my money. It seems wasteful, particularly when so many people are going hungry in the world. The design reminds me of airbrushed first names designed to be displayed on the front plates of cars, the kind sold by beach front vendors during Spring Break and sported by women with no conception of how to tastefully apply makeup or properly maintain their hair.
They met at Club Dead, a goth bar, across the street from Pink Ink, the lesbian-run tattoo parlor. At the time, they both had fake i.d.s, lousy home lives, low g.p.a.s and no prospects for the future.
Within a year, they had rented the studio above the tattoo place, where they took turns manning the counter instead of paying the rent. Sometimes they got free tattoos. They had parties that lasted all week, and their friends thought they were so lucky to have gotten away from their parents, to have all this freedom.
Then their friends all went away to college. They kept having parties, but their new friends were younger and younger, and they were older and older. They had real i.d.s and no place left to tattoo. He started drinking to excess. She stepped out with other men. Once she stayed away all week.
One Friday, the usual crowd showed up with their bottles and their plastic baggies, but the place was quiet. When they pushed the unlatched door open, they saw the stereo had been smashed. The perennial host and hostess were grappling on the floor.
Some of the kids laughed at first. The couple were naked, and with real lights instead of just Christmas lights, you could see they were getting old, and starting to have wrinkles.
It took the guests a few minutes before they realized they were witnessing a real, honest-to-god domestic violence situation and pulled they two apart.
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