Years ago, I was drunk. And almost got a tattoo. Thankfully, i was not THAT drunk. So, I don’t have a tattoo. Only a colony of stretch marks. I was still working for the newspaper. So, I didn’t get a tattoo. But I dyed my hair dirty gray. But someday I will get a tattoo. Not today.
So, I just watch the downloaded episodes of my only favorite show from Discovery Travel and Living Miami Ink. I love this show so much I even bought a shirt. Thanks again to my little sister for that rapidshare account in which I can download movies way WAAAA-AAAY faster than torrents, I am enjoying the first season of Miami Ink.
Addie is adamant that I should not get a tattoo because he finds it “filthy.” I just keep quiet like a dutiful spouse and surprise him with a hot pink Chinese dragon with chartreuse claws and false eyelashes snaking up my back one of these days. Haahahaha.
The reason that I don’t have a tattoo yet is because I am still coming up with a design. Also, I subscribe to the belief of pre-colonial pintados that one has to earn the tattoo and not borne out of a whim. Ergo, even some traditional groups in the Philippines insist that only the older members of the tribe get elaborate tattoos. I saw some of my friends’ tattoos and thought they look anemic and typical. One had this hideous drawing of a girl’s decapitated head with flowing locks because he’s a Virgo. I told him “That looks like Mystika and you won’t peg down the word ‘virginal’ on somebody like her.”
On a side note, I googled “Mystika Filipino singer” and got this photo:
Wahahahahahaha. Well, I’d rather be a Mystika fan….
So, anyway, tattoos…..I don’t want a small-ass tattoo on my arm. One of my favorite authors of all time is Junichiro Tanizaki and he had this amazing short story about a tattoo artist and his greatest work of art. It was haunting and the process was discussed with such loving detail that I wanted to have one despite the one other thing that is keeping me from getting one: the pain.
On that night when I got drunk, I was with people I haven’t seen for years now. One of them was a tattoo artist. Forgot his name. Cute, but sadly, straight. I forgot his name. I swear he was tracing my back with his finger erotically. He was gasping that he “should do me.” That thought of doing the nasty evaporated when he said that I am a tattoo artist’s dream come true: I’m wide and pale, just like a giant canvas. To which I proceeded to down more Red Horse to have that “loving” statement extricated from my mind for the night.
He was insisted I get a tattoo right then and there. I was just slurring my no’s.
So, here I am just watching all these cool designs in Miami Ink. Maybe in the future, I’ll get a tattoo from them. Maybe I can finally be satisfied with a design. Maybe. I can see Addie’s eyes get narrower and his lips curling downwards at the mention of me wanting to get a tattoo.
Or maybe I’ll do what I did when I was 18 and bored. I took a pentel pen and drew Maori-inspired tattoo on my face, the ink burning my eyes but I looked fantastically butch and ready for a haka after. It was a bitch taking the pentel pen marks later though.
Ah…the downloading of the Miami Ink episode is done. Got to watch now.
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