5 for FRIDAY: INK ME!

To further my descent from ordinary son of a bigoted, white, working class, English family to inexplicable arty-farty possible-poofter who ‘aint never been t’ same since ‘e went off to t’ Big City darn Sarf, I got me a tattoo for my most recent birthday.

tattoo

Honestly, I have no idea why, but tattoos are genuinely addictive. I cannot explain it– although I have confirmed it with others who have them– but having received my first one, all I can think about is how soon I can go back and get my second, and third, and eighth, and fifteenth.

Seriously. This is me. This is me, now.

So, for today’s 5 for Friday, here are 5 designs I’m determined to get.

Continue reading “5 for FRIDAY: INK ME!”

2016 ADDENDUM: THE YEAR I GOT INK

After delays, cancellations, and general faffing about, I finally received my birthday present yesterday.

I think it looks rather natty myself.

It’s my first tattoo, at the age of 46, and as I can’t afford a sports car, and I have no intention of having an affair with my secretary, this is about as mid-life crisisish as I’m likely to get. Of course, if you’re going to permanently scar yourself, the image should have some meaning, and this is no different.

I’ve always been a huge fan of The Prisoner, the TV show from which the image and quote are taken. The show is a meditation in individuality, personal choice, and the right to privacy in a world where the compromises you make in order to survive threaten the very notion of your right to exist as a discrete being. After most of an adult life spent trying to balance some sort of artistic career with the soul-destroying conformity of various Governmental jobs, the quote speaks for itself: it’s a reminder to me of the need to constantly assert my individuality in the face of overwhelming conformity. It’s cost me a great deal over the years: happiness, job satisfaction, advancement, and stress. But it’s the message that I cling to, because I’m more than another faceless bureaucrat, and my worth to the Universe is greater.

The penny farthing is, to me, a bumblebee: the least efficient, most nonsensical design for achieving its primary goal, but one that works outside of all logic and reason. It’s the physical manifestation of a wonderful Doctor Who line, spoken many years ago by the Third Doctor– A straight line may be the shortest distance between two points, but it is by no means the most interesting.

So, there we have it: thanks to my darling Luscious, the kids, and our good friends Kris and Kim, I’m a marked man. My physical nature is changed forever. And I’m rather pleased.