10 July 2012

The art of ink

I think it fair to say that strutting around the suburbs of Sydney with the word 'vagina' tattooed onto the back of your neck and tastefully decorated with a waist length rat's tail says quite a bit about you.  Particularly when you are a balding fellow with a marshmellow for a body and jeans that don't quite meet your shoes.  And while being intensely curious as to why one might choose to keep the word lowercase and put the quotation marks around it -  I'm more curious as to why you would permanently ink the word on the back of your neck in the first place.

And why you'd grow a rat's tail.  But that's another rant.

I'm a fan of ink.  Well done ink.  I loathe the kind of tattoos that scream out 'I got a tattoo because they are so cool' but I love the kind that adorn bodies in a way that is essentially meaningful to the owner.  And you know the difference.  Tattoos that tell a story, indicate a strength, a common theme.  Not the ones you pick off the wall when you stumble in drunk one evening and decide to go for a rose on your right shoulder blade because life is a garden. Or the ones that indicate you've killed a guy.  They seem unnecessary on so many levels though I concede they are essentially meaningful to the individual.  Even if slightly mainstream.

David Beckham's ink.  Yum.

Ke$ha's lip ink.  Yuck.

Pink's ink. Yum.

Good Charlotte's ink.  Undecided.

Old sailors.  Awesome.

Balding fat man with 'vagina' tattooed on their necks.  Vomit.

I don't mind if people get their tattoos wrong though I am always amused when the small tattoo on the hip that used to be the name of the love has become an intricate drawing that must have really really hurt.  Probably more than the breakup.  I mean it's your body.  If you don't take the time to check your spelling, grammar or chinese translations that's between you and your wallet.  Actually, poor grammar is never excusable.  Especially when permanent.

Anyway.  Just remember that if you got the celtic tribal armband you owe it to tattoo artist and the the world not to get bingo wings.  Ever.  Even when you're 101.

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