Second thing

I was planning on just letting the second item slide after writing about the first thing many people don’t know about me, because, well I don’t know why. The fact is that I periodically wonder why I write a blog. It’s a bizarre thing to do, if you think about it. Particularly if you’re not one of those bloggers who make money by selling ads or their crafts, or who are in the process of writing a book about their blogging subject. At least that makes some sense to me. The thing is, I can get to wondering why I do anything, after I’ve done it for a bit. Except for work. That’s easy. I do that for money and health insurance.

After I wrote about Mr. Rat I lost interest in the second item, which is exactly how I am, and why my home page is entitled stone after stone. If I think about doing something for too long, I’m often no longer interested in doing it because it’s as if I have already done it just by thinking about it.

In any case, since a few people have asked, and since if I don’t write about it it seems as if it’s some juicy secret, which it isn’t, I’ll tell you what the other little boring tidbit is.

I love tattoos. I have always been mesmerized and fascinated by tattoos and, on men, I find them very appealing. I do not like skulls and cross bone, nor blood dripping from fangs, and I draw the line at tattoos on faces (I guess that means I draw the line at the neck, ha!). My kind of tattoo, for example, is a colorful tiger, dragon or lotus, intricate or simple. If it’s draped over a muscular male shoulder or back, so much the better.

And what about the ones at the base of a woman’s spine? They’re great. I know they are commonly referred to as “tramp stamps”, but why? How sexist! It’s the perfect spot for a large, beautiful lotus, or a coiled kundalini snake.

Here’s a close up of the photo at the top of the page. Not really my favorite example, but good colors. Can someone tell me what that says? I’ve been trying to figure it out, but it’s a bit like trying to decipher a license plate - it will suddenly be apparent, but at the moment it’s not.

Let me give you a couple of examples of how much I like certain tattoos.

I once followed a man wearing a tank top into a convenience store downtown, pretending that I wanted to look at magazines, while in reality I just wanted to get a better look at the tattoo on his shoulder.

What I find really frustrating is spotting just a bit of a tattoo peeking out of a collar or sleeve, and not being able to see the entire image. On a plane ride to Seattle many years ago I sat next to a young woman who owned a snowboarding company, and who had one visible tattoo that drew a compliment from me. Pretty soon she was pulling up her sleeves, then her top, maybe even her pant leg, and showing me tattoos on her arms, her stomach, and her back. We had a few people watching us out of the corners of their eyes, particularly since she was sitting in a middle seat, and we know how little room that gives you to be a contortionist showing off your tattoos.

I’ve even watched a few tattoo studio reality shows. In my eyes tattoos are permanent body art, and their creators are artists. Now, that word right there? permanent? that’s why I don’t have one. Not even a single dot of ink. Just as I could not stand to wear the same necklace every day of my life, the same painting on my body would drive me nuts.