When an idea worms its way into my brain, it usually gnaws hard at my insula. What is this “insula” of which I speak? The prune-size region under the frontal lobes that registers gut feelings and is critical to the network which sustains addictive behavior. Usually, this idea-chewed region sparks and whines until I finally give in to its incessant demands.
Sometimes, with a swift jab to my head, I can dislodge a pesky idea. (Not really, though. That’s just a goofy visual for ya.)
A recent idea lodged in place: a series of tattoos depicting my wickedly warped Phreak Show characters. Due to the insanely booked schedule of my preferred artist, that thought will be painfully niggling me until November. o.O Needless to say, I needed a short-term fix, a compromise, to keep my insula happy. Thus, I am getting tattoos of my first 2 novels in the meantime.
After a 3-week wait, Capritare got his chance to be immortalized on (in?) my skin yesterday.
The artist, Josh Phillips of 42 Tattoo, did an amazing job of taking my loose sketch & transforming it into a permanent work of art on my arm. The engaging conversation proved as cool as the ink. I have this knack for getting folks to share stories. Maybe it’s because I’m a storyteller myself. The give-and-take, paired with genuine interest & asking the right questions, gifts me with many amazing conversations. Just ask the strangers I chat with in elevators, the hairstylist who is never bored while giving me a trim, or the random hitchhikers I scoop up. All for the sake of hearing their unique stories.
[Sidenote: I picked up an intoxicated, unintentionally hitchhiking dude named Kevin this week. But, you see, I had to. My insula told me so. Rain was pounding at 19 billion gallons per square inch per second (estimated). I was on my way home from work and saw this poor chap getting hammered by the downpour. So, naturally, I whipped into the golf course’s parking lot & offered him a ride. A few short minutes later, I dropped Kevin off at his house with the wraparound porch “right behind the big green mansion.’ I didn’t personally consider the neighbor’s home a mansion, but I guess such things are relative.]
Back to the tattoo. Josh shared a bunch of stories during our 3-hour session. A girl who got a sushi tattoo on her ribs, but, due to the pain, bailed before Josh added the word “vegetarian” floating up from it in wisps of fishy aroma. (Personally, she sounds more like a pescatarian, so I think it was probably for the best. Tattoos are forever, after all.) Another story was about a dude who asked for “a tattoo that’s so bad I’ll wake up in the morning and wonder What the hell did I do that for?! Can you do that for me?” Josh, like any artist who is willing to make the client happy, obliged. With the dude’s buddy shaking the chair, right-handed Josh inked the dude. With his left hand. And his eyes closed. He never heard whether or not the dude was pleased with the results come sunrise, but chances are that his expectations were met.
I asked Josh to keep his eyes open & to tattoo me with his dominant hand. Once again, he submitted to the wishes of the client. Submitted for your voyeuristic pleasure, pics chronicling the process:
I can confirm that I am pleased with the results. My insula agrees, but the little bugger is still squirming & twitching for November. To keep the damn thing pacified, a tattoo for Freeborn is next on the list. I’m wondering if I can shake things up a bit—maybe get some hitchhiker to go get a tattoo with me? If we can get it done in an elevator, I’ll not only glean some amazing stories, but experience a pretty damn memorable one of my own.
What would a tattoo post be without some invisible ink? A skilled artist with great stories is an excellent choice. Also, it doesn’t hurt if he’s kinda cute, has a ton of sexy tattoos & smiles a lot. 😉