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by joshsolberg_Archive
I got my tattoos from a friend I was living with who wanted to start tattooing and needed skin on which to practice. He was a very good friend, and a very good artist. Though I'd never had any desire to get tattoos, I told him, "just do stuff that suits me," and let him at it.
I have three big tattoos: a dynamite bomb (set to go off on my birthday) covering my left calf, an alien with an outstretched arm, offering a rose covering my right calf, and two sparrows (sparrows are supposed to help guide you on a journey, in sailor lore, apparently) hovering over a sacred heart covering the top half of my back. The friend moved away, we lost touch, but those things will always remind me of that time of my life, and the people with whom I shared it, so they are not crap.
My dad knew a mechanic years ago who had the best tattoos ever: a series of a chipmunk running up his left leg, and then running down his right leg with two bloody walnuts in its mouth. Genius.
N/C WF=5 for all the dorks (male and female) who get flash tattoos.
If it wasn't for landlords, there would have been no Karl Marx.