ice cream and drown my-
self with syrupy fervour
in milky puddles until I
cough up cookie dough
phlegm.
With tattooing it’s been
integrated into my psyche
as one of the deepest
and most valued lessons
I have experienced and
continue to experience,
one which I take incredi-
bly seriously when I com-
pare all that it’s changed
for me. When I discov-
ered tattooing after day-
dreaming about it without
ever thinking it would happen I got sucked into the whirlwind ride of
practising it pretty fast. It’s a long and meandering story, the main
point of which, I started tattooing myself impulsively when I began
apprenticing. Relayering the flesh again and again with all the odd
reflections spat from my puzzled brain. Bits of self indulgent poetry
and portraits of movie stars, psychedelic dotwork patterns, bondage
pin up with their tits out, tentacles, creatures and an army of Virgin
Marys to deliver me from all the sin I was soaked in. Boohoo. The
practise became addictive and therapeutic, distracting away from
other difficulties that surrounded me at the time.
At some point I recognised that it was time to start over and do it
all again, this time with wiser intentions and understanding so I am
covering all my old tattoos that started this journey with a clean
slate of black which I may then work on top of with a mixture of
white ink and scarification. It’s incredible how rejuvenating the skin
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