…I, on the other hand, ate hella breakfast. Mainly in the garden and re-listened to R.A.G.C a few times over which got me thinking about tattoos and the year or so that is now behind me and how I think I have made it out the other side, almost, and alive… So many verses and ideas and lines are extremely important to me, it seems they all deserve a share of my skin.
But at the same time, it seems like they would be just as important to me, if not more-so, not on my skin. Just in my headspace, waiting for me to find them every now and again, when I might not even be looking, rather than when I wash my arm or leg in the shower.
Or maybe I’m just a coward.
It’s quite funny though. How when you’re a kid, you’re so against tattoos. How they’re on your skin forever and they fade and require maintenance and no room for error. But then things happen as you grow older and life unfolds, and you find other things, almost all other things, fade much faster and require, at the very least, just as much. And some things you never want to really let go of and remove yourself from, or forget the feeling of, on the tip of your, or someone else’s tongue or fingers. Those are the things that (make it) seem like such a perfect idea to get them engraved among your pores. To prolong that fading and to maintain those many years later.
All for your kids to see and decide on how bad of an idea tattoos are.
The marvellous James ‘Fishy’ Whiting, my fellow wanderluster and overall guy who just ‘gets it’. (Yes James, if you’re reading this, I admit we spend too much time mocking each other to realize how awesomely like-minded we are. You get it. We got it.)