qwerty

liv asked, "what's that full, dark band on the other arm?"

I think you mean my typewriter.

I collect them, I display them, I clean them up, I use them, I give them to friends. I never pay more than $10 for one, because they're still everywhere, safely resting int heir little suitcases in thrift stores and flea markets. They almost always still work - they were made to take a beating, literally. You can still buy ribbon through Amazon or possibly even physical office supply stores.

This is fresh, of course, and better than it looks now with my Robin-Williams-like arm hair grown back over it, but I'm still a fan. If the blade and marker are my basic tools, the typewriter is an elegant machine, every piece clicking softly together to make language hold still long enough to carry meaning.

I have big arms. It made sense to get big ink. Here's pirate Hank, walking the Dog Island decks. Note PBR bottlecap done just inside the line of my farmer's tan.

I'd like to get another, still manual but newer, on my right arm. Balance, I like it. Finances being what they are, that will have to wait.

Plus, my next tattoo will be my knuckles. I've waited long enough.