I am searching.
First post of the year! Now, to my defense: I’m quite detail oriented, and I could be posting from my phone much more often but… I haven’t set a gallery of featured images to accompany the posts (will work on that, I promise), and that specific lack of visual content has prevented me from being a more prolific blogger. Shame on me, I know.
Now, super quick 2016 creativity update: I did give up on my GIF challenge, but on the other hand I started writing haikus. So, that evens out my commitment towards trying something new. Circling back to today: I switched one of my work off days so it has been quite the relaxing Friday for me. I cut my own hair, since I finally purchased a Remington device, I’m just waiting for the oh so necessary shower to get rid of the tiny excess hair. This week also marked a wonderful addition to my tattoo collection, something both vintage and heartfelt (for me at least):
I just finished listening to an episode of The Truth Barrel, an enlightening podcast hosted by Gabrielle Reese and Neil Strauss, while my cat rests on my lap.
Politics? Fucking Trump, people… insulted his way into the presidency. I trust that he’ll do a wonderful job… at getting impeached in record time. Fingers crossed!
This blog post´s title is a quote from Chelsea Manning in the documentary We Steal Secrets.
That’s all for now.
The mythology of Saturday Night Live is undeniable. I haven’t watched a complete episode in the years (due to lack of cable), but I recognize the memorable performances and sketches throughtout the years (I haven’t ruled out getting a More Cowbell tattoo someday). However, after listening to Harry Shearer’s episode on WTF, I now realize that Lorne Michaels is a darker character than we’ve been led to believe.
Power moves, mind games, racism… not funny stuff. Unlike this sketch featuring Shearer and Martin Short!
Then, my friends, The Broken Circle Breakdown is the film for you!
If mom would understand, if my name were Frank Ocean, and if she knew or cared who Frank is. I wonder how she’ll feel about my new tattoo. I wonder if my oldest niece remembers me. I wonder how the first grafitti experience will be.
“Memories of the flesh are indeed powerful, both to the messenger *and* the viewer”.
Why do people get tattooed?
The answers to that simple question warrant several blog posts, so I’ll keep it short. Some people just love the look and feel of body modifications. They appreciate the skill that goes into making a piece of art on flesh. They love the feel of metal against skin. Or maybe they love the outlaw symbolism that goes hand in hand with body art. Usually, they have a lifetime love affair (or at least, a reoccurring fascination) with the art that is tattoo design. I should know: I’m one of these people. My love affair started at the age of three, when I first noticed an anchor on my great-uncle’s forearm. He also had a battleship on his chest. I remember crawling in his lap and begging him to roll up his sleeve. Uncle Sam didn’t like showing off his tattoos when he got older, or…
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