thu/20250130

in

Trying out a bit of a new thing that I thing I tried once before, little bit of a timeshift, words first thing, then Informalities at midday. Occasional thought-meanderings throughout. Waking, recovering, the skin-scream of fresh ink continues to abate, mercifully. Most color I've ever had one – usually go for black, but when J wants to use color, J can use color. Other than that, nothing too exciting though my addiction to HISTORY'S MYSTERIES on History / Hulu grows with each episode (Shroud of Turin episode particularly intriguing): Laurence Fishburne makes everything awesome, even though the answer to every mystery is always "🤷 – it's a mystery."

Plan for today being the same as most days: yoga, run, write, eat, box, draw, weld, stare blankly into space as I get minor high from the flux and the joy of doing that particular work all while avoiding, as much as I can, the clusterfuck parade ensuing from the federal side of things. Still digging about for the right words to one thing or other, though.

I'd also like to get around to putting up the new freestanding heavy bag though I don't know that I have it in me today to go buy 400 pounds of sand to keep it standing as I definitely don't have it in me to fill the base with water in the backrook that tends to flood anyhow, the backroom that houses The Collection.

midday things

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Returning, I think, to these midday things (which will hopefully be about an individual thing or idea instead of a glorified journal entry but WTFever) if for no other purpose than to keep me writing / thinking out loud in public every day as I explore other interests (oh metal, oh comix) and passions.

As far as projects go, Lon the Metal Guy is coming to junk-bin life (also need to get started on my first metal commission sometime in the next few days) and I'm still circling the aforementioned comix (though one of them has been dropped off into J's hands for her to wreak her magic upon it), seeding nonsensical phrases across the Obsidian canvas, staying to true to my schism with past ideas and accepting only new ones – though I'm having second thoughts about the schisming one comix project that would be another collab with J considering the continued enthusiasm she expressed towards it yesterday.

Speaking of: I remain thrilled with Boris welding his neckbolts and the pain – not the cool pain while getting inked but the uncool pain in the hours after leaving the chair – has more or less subsided. Healing process begins, etc etc. Aloe is my friend.

me v that fucking floor

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Left hand and inner forearm loaded up with its morning dose of "healing ointment": didn't count on falling asleep being such a bitch with Herbie jabbed in one side, a tender and awesomely inked arm on the other, and Beyonce's "Freedom" stuck in my head after Harris's amazing acceptance speech but thenagain it's been six years since I got my first tattoo (my wedding ring) which was, until yesterday, the only work I'd had done on my left arm. Time and healing ointment heals all wounds or at least makes you forget about them until you get a reminder like a curious German Shepherd. Ink therapy FTW, forever.

Exciting shift in project priorities, but to get there, I've decreed that I will get that fucking floor installed in NuSanctum this weekend so that, by next Wednesday, I can move full-time out there for work (solar install is Tuesday). Uplift desk arrived and is on the docket for assembly but only once that quote unquote fucking floor is installed.

ink therapy

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After far too long - we finished the right sleeve just before the pandemic – I'm indulging in ink therapy / creative refresh/refuel with my favorite tattoo artist this afternoon. Starting the left sleeve, a few things I want on there, the rest I'm going to let her improvise. Arm as canvas for a favorite artist with a buzzy needle – a much more pleasant way to spend my afternoon than fighting with "quick-lok" flooring in NuSanctum. Quick-lok my ass: I'd've rather dealt with nailing the shit directly to the subfloor. Still, the laminate hardwood is a far cheaper – and more robust – alternative, especially when I'll have dogchildren running in and out through their dog door throughout my working / making hours. Expecting the arrival of my new standing desk – sprung for one of the L-shaped Uplift desks since 1/2 of my efforts at making my own fell apart – in many boxes while my left arm is under the therapeutic hum of Jess's buzzy needle. Quick-lok battle resumes tomorrow.

links/2024w11

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And we're back to the weekly list: Squarespace changed up their iPad editor and made it impossible to add links, so it's simpler to do it this way and put it together once a week on the Mac.

"Yet its artists are forced to work underground…"

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In 1992 a South Korean court ruled that tattooing creates health risks and ought to require a medical licence. Tattooists without that qualification can receive a fine of 50m won ($38,000) or up to five years in prison. Doy reckons a couple are locked up every year. The ban also means that tattooists are vulnerable to blackmail, exploitation or sexual assault because they cannot report perpetrators for fear of incrimination.

cybersigilism

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People often dedicate tattoos to outside influences—loved ones or songs or works of art that carry deep significance. Cybersigilism, with its exaggerated, techno-biological grace, feels more like a radical acceptance of the sensual, wordless, often-dark, extremely complex self.