kiss me I have a tattoo
Maybe it was the slight buzz of Monkey Man playing in the background at the local Venice bar or the ease of the cold Jim Beam after a 18 hour day. Sitting there in the wee hours my best friend and I hatched our grand revenge on middle age.
My buddy not being an LA native was born and raised in the conservative wholesome mid west, where tattoos in the era from which we hailed, were for the most part viewed with certain disdain and downward glances. However now some 42 years later with an expanded perspective having escape the microcosm of small town America, that misconception and those stigmas seemed less applicable living in the land of superficiality. It almost seems as if tattoos in LA make you more genuine dare I say a real persona amongst so many false pretenses.
The question; “Are we too old to do something wild, are we past the age of defacing our temples with some fashionable ink?”….My response;“Hells yah you’re too old”, “which is exactly why we should do it” Now I had gotten a tattoo 20 years ago when I was in active in the Navy, seemed like the thing to do as a Sailor and to this day do not regret getting the Skoal can sized tattoo on the upper left shoulder commemorating my days in service. There have been some reservations, a few women have express concern at the moralistic standard of the person who would knowingly scar their own body. I asked they just consider it a character witness to my other slight flaws, seemed less consequential after some hot body thumping session. A little bad boy image never hurts as it relates to my clean cut baby faced appearance.
Not sure what the real allure of tattoos are for the general ink populous, for me I had no real desire to ever get another, I was fine with just the one. My daughters were much relieved at my contentment in just having one, maybe being the suburbanite father that I am I unknowingly instilled those stigmas associated with the tattoo a cult. I can only imagine their disappointment the next time they see me without my shirt off and see a rather large ink extension now running from my upper arm to the lower part of my scapula , fairly obvious.
Maybe I was caught up in the moment, excited to turn out my rather listless vanilla life. Or was it the thought of being a 40 something struggling with a sagging midsection, crazy body hair and a craggy older looking unshaved face staring back at me in the mirror. Whatever it was it seemed to be looming in my friends subconscious too.
Three days later and I’m back in the Midwest writing this blog feeling the itch above my right shoulder listening to some Neil Young with a broadening smile creeping across my face. You would have thought we shagged the homecoming queen, as the two youthful 40 something year old men high fived on the stoop of the Hollywood tattoo shop, stopping for a moment to light up our cigarettes, then strutting our new wares down the boulevard. We were kings and if only for the briefest of moments we turned the clock back on a wasted youth.
inherently flawed 