My Whole Expanse I Cannot See…

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Archive for May 4th, 2009

Tattoo #20

May 04th, 2009 | Category: Life,Tattoos

It’s become kind of a tradition to get a new tattoo just before I get a fresh trache, the next being this coming Friday. So, last night I decided to hit Doc Dog’s Las Vegas Tattoo to have my man, Colt, etch a couple of words into my arm. Colt has done my last six tattoos, and he’ll be doing them until I drop dead, as was recently prophesied, or until I just run out of room or ideas. We’ll see which happens first.

Part of getting a tattoo, at least for me, is the shop’s atmosphere, which is why I love Doc Dog’s. It’s a very cool family business. Doc is Colt’s dad, he owns the shop. Doc actually started the first tattoo shop in Vegas. Colt’s mom is a lady named, Belle, she and Doc run the place. Belle also does piercings. Doc and Belle are always at the shop, or the Boneyard, the kickass bar next door. Colt hangs at the Boneyard between tattoos. I once wrote about them…

“I get my tattoos from a fellow named, Colt, a tattoo artist like his father before him. His mom and dad are usually around the shop, or the bar next-door. It’s an odd little family business, but they’re happier than most nine-to-fivers, it’s obvious they don’t go home and hate each other.”

They’re one of a few reasons why I like Tampa anymore. As for my twentieth tattoo…


It’s my third Elliott Smith tattoo from another of my favorite songs, Stupidity Tries. Specifically, I think it’s a song about his career and his life. He feels like a fuck up who writes songs about it, songs that people love, but he doesn’t get why. He’s fuck up, but he keeps going, though he’s not sure why. It’s a song about futility, about how we try for some kind of peace, even if it’s probably stupid to try. The song reminds me very much myself. I’m a fuck up, I consistently do really dumb things. I’m a fuck up who’s good at writing about it, and people say I’m amazing, but I don’t feel amazing.

Last summer, after Sara (the ex) had to move to Boston, and said that she wanted me to join her, I decided it would be a good idea to be drunk as often as possible. She figured I had it in me to do so, so just before she left, she asked me to promise to quit drinking entirely. I lasted a few weeks. I couldn’t handle the stress of figuring out how to move, the still newness of the trache, problems I was having with it, and the fact that I was just so lonely without her. Oh, and I never like being told I “can’t” do something. Her and my family were both against me drinking for different reasons.  So, after a particularly bad week I went out and drank way too much scotch. Apparently, I sent Sara a few drunk IMs before I passed out, and that was it. I fucked it all up.

I’m a fuck up, but I keep going anyway, even if I don’t always see a reason. I still want the kind of relationship I had with Sara, I want that life, and I keep trying to have it, even if trying might be stupid. I love someone else, and maybe that’s stupid, but whatever. Stupidity tries.

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