Ink, Part 2

November 10, 2016 § Leave a comment

Last night, my wife and friends gathered at the Overlook in an attempt to drown their post-election trauma in fine bourbon and beer. And chase out some popped-collar dudebro who thought he was so fucking cool because he cast his vote for “Batman” as president.

I was not there.

I was next door, in point of fact. Reclined on a converted massage table, doped up on endogenous morphine while a heavily tattooed man repeatedly shoved needles into my flesh.

In other words, I got my Godzilla ink finished.

My father had a procedure earlier in the day to put stents into certain arteries around his tumors, in order to prepare him for the TheraSphere treatment he’ll get after Thanksgiving. My sister took him and my mom to the hospital and sent me updates throughout the day.

I was ready to cancel my tattoo appointment if anything went wrong, but all went well and Dad was home and resting by seven o’clock that night. I even warned Andy, the artist who did my work, that I might have to leave in a rush if something came up with my dad. Fortunately, all was quiet on that front.

For the next three and a half hours, I watched at my line-art Godzilla slowly became shaded and colored and vibrant and alive. Every time I checked the progress, I was amazed at how incredible it looked.

Andy made some color suggestions—a little yellow to make the green pop, some pink (but just a little), and purple instead of gray for the smoke wreathing his body—and each time, I simply told him to go for it. He’s the artist, and I trusted his instincts.

I was not disappointed.

At the end of the night, before the bandages went on, I looked at my tattoo in the mirror and was agog. Even seeping blood, it was absolutely gorgeous and it exceeded my high expectations by lightyears. And this morning, washed clean and without irritation, it looked even more beautiful.

The world disgusts me right now; particularly, the American part of it. The United States rolled over and exposed its bloated, hate-filled underbelly to the entire planet on Tuesday. My friends are terrified, and for good reason. I’m terrified. We are headed for dark, ugly times.

A beautiful tattoo may seem like a tiny thing in the face of such ugliness. But it is a thing of beauty, regardless. I’m happy to wear it, happy to add a little more beauty to this ugly, ugly world.


ink-2

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