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.

drinking ink

In this photo you see the curtains I recently made (slightly different lengths), my gross couch, and two of my tattoos. By request, two stories.

On my right arm, a Sharpie marker and box cutter, crossed. The most basic tools of information dissemination. With those two things and any form of paper I can make a zine, cut a stencil, draw a poster. Plus, I have this thing for office supplies.

Between my collarbones, 'choose your own scars'. I got this one done after chest surgery, a comment on the Frankenstein scars that are slowly fading. They don't bother me, I just felt like they needed balancing and this would do it. One of my only tattoos that hurt like hell, mostly toward either end when it felt like they were halfway up my neck. Worth it. though. I get compliments on this one.

Man, my forehead looks big in this picture.