Brief Essays With Pictures

Dammit, I should have saved that headline for the first podcast, which is coming…soon. Let me take a moment to thank Apple for building a computer that doesn’t provide power to a microphone, meaning that I had to order special pieces to make my microphone work. Hey, Steve Jobs, why don’t you come trample my flowers too, huh? Geez. Good Lord, the company sells its products on the assumption that they’re easy to use - this contraption hasn’t been easy for me to use. Still, a podcast is coming. What it will be about, I have yet to decide.

The tattoo came courtesy of Eric at Wild Zero Studios. (Incidentally, the slogan? “Stay Original. Be Weird. Wild Zero.” Good stuff there.) It is now more than 24 hours since I got it, immediately after pounding two 20 oz. Cokes in his shop’s lobby. “Wait, is that another one?” He asked me as I tore into the second bottle.

Almost everybody thinks I won’t stick with this plan, as I haven’t stuck with the same plan the last 1000 times I’ve made it. Needless to say, all the evidence and all the history isn’t in my favor. But still, a man can have hope, can’t he?

Generally, I can go about 40 hours before I start to get incredibly moody and exhausted. Tomorrow afternoon, I’m going to pass out asleep for about five hours. It’s coming. I can feel it. Also, it has happened at least 10 times before when I’ve quit soda.

We’ll see if I can stick with this. Haku, have at me with your criticisms. This post sucked.

I take a certain amount of pride in my ability to withstand pain. Two recent events have caused me to question this. The first was my trip to Pittsburgh’s Meeting of the Marked, a tattooing convention in which I was originally scheduled to sit for a grueling six hour session. I only ended up sitting for three. I did not feel good, although I did end up with the above lobster. (Sorry for the photo quality. Shooting my leg isn’t easy.) Eric wasn’t feeling well, and I wasn’t sitting well, and so I’m glad we ended it when we did.

The second example is more embarrassing. We have a fireplace at Sanctuary, my home. I went to the backyard to get some firewood - instead of using our pre-chopped stash, I grabbed a huge limb that had died and fallen out of a tree. I broke it up by stomping on it, jumping on it. This worked for most of the limb because the tree was dead, and thus posed no real threat. However, there were thicker sections; those I leaned against a stair and then jumped on. You can see where this is going, can’t you?

One of the pieces didn’t break when I jumped on it, rolling backwards instead, which left me grasping at air as I landed with the entirety of my weight on my left knee. Now, I can barely walk and I’m having a hard time driving. How embarrassing. The lesson, of course, is don’t break your own firewood without an axe. Or something.

-Sidenote: I’ve decided that graduate school isn’t challenging enough. So starting Thursday, I’m doing this. I’ll be posting my 2000 words per day here on the site. No photographs for a month, I fear. However, if you want to follow the creation of this “novel,” feel free.

-I added my friend Nathan’s Natural Law to the old blogroll. He is a LibertarianChristian (ChristianLibertarian?), very effectively seeing government and religion as two very separate things. Good on him. Check out his blog if you’re into that sort of thing.

-I would like this semester to be over…immediately. I’m sick of school.

-Tattooing Convention, this weekend. I’d suggest you come out and see me, but you’re not reading this in the first place, so it isn’t like you’re be making it to the convention. Still, I’ll be at Wild Zero Studio’s set up. I think I just screwed up my punctuation. D’oh!

-In pursuing questioning about the issue of rationality and utility maximization - I’ve been struggling to rectify the notion that people are capable of making irrational decisions, what with my belief that human beings are constantly calculating utility when they make decisions - my friend Andy pointed out that there can be a difference between utility calculation and the rightness of it. In other words, somebody can decide to do something that they believe maximizes their utility (think: pleasure) when in fact, something else would have maximized their utility (still, think: pleasure) more. It doesn’t mean that the human beings weren’t calculating their utility; it just means that they got the wrong answer. However, I think it is fair to say that it is only the person who can decide about the rightness or wrongness of their own utility calculation. I hope I’ve phrased his point correctly.

The problem remains that it is assumed that human beings can act irrationally. This is usually based on a measurement of their actions against their words; as I’ve already stated, I firmly believe that actions mean far more than words, or to put it more popularly, actions speak louder than words. I can tell you, for instance, that I want this semester to be over. I do. But I haven’t quit school (an immediate semester ender) and so, I am forced to acknowledge that, while I want this semester to be over, enduring this semester certainly seems better than doing literally anything else that I am currently capable of. Hence, my belief isn’t that strong.

This is important to note, particularly in regard to Libertarian Economists who do a lot of talking and, quite frankly, very little acting. Unless giving money to Ron Paul counts as acting. It does probably. But the costs paid to donate money are relatively low.

-Go check out Thursday Cover Page, my nascent web project. We’re updating again. I just rambled on about hip-hop lyrics that blow my mind for pure strangeness. Good times.

-The art show at Wild Zero went well. People actually purchased my Lego recreations of historic scenes. Don’t ask me who these people are, but good on them. Incidentally, my JFK series didn’t sell, so if you’re insane, and you want it for only $50, head down there with your checkbook ready. (I really like that in the above recreation of Ruby shooting Oswald, there are at least two spacemen, one with a very astray helmet, and some pirates. I think we all know that there were spacemen and pirates there that day. Don’t let the government tell you otherwise. Also, I especially like that one of the spacemen is staring directly into the camera. I think serious modelers would be aghast at the oversite, but there is no way that I’m a serious anything, let alone modeler.)

-I turned down an invitation to spend yet more time with Libertarians, this time in regard to professional planning and tenure earning. I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again, but I’m doing things my way, or I’m not doing them. It’s a bad strategy, but the only one that I’m capable of. Also, the more that I get invitations to these things, although very nice, it seems like entering a very small club in which only the “right” kind of thinkers are welcome. I just want to think; I’m not terribly concerned about being right in anybody else’s eyes.

-Incidentally, my ongoing exploration of the ideas surrounding rationality and rational decision making have led me to the belief that it is impossible for human beings to make irrational decisions. I just don’t see how it is possible. I will grant that a human being’s stated goals can conflict with decisions made, but I don’t see why we should do anything but question those stated goals. Again, if a man tells you he doesn’t like jumping off bridges proceeds to jump off the bridge, aren’t you more inclined to think that he was lying when he told you what he did, as opposed to doing something that he didn’t like?

-Also, had another argument about the basis of natural rights, and the more I discuss them, the more absurd I find the notion to be. In fact, it seems to be an awfully lazy way of winning the argument about what governments should or should not regulate. More soon, as I attempt to further my understanding of these complex problems. I’m really like the six-year-old wading into the deep end - way over my head and having no idea how to swim.

-Finally, I will be attending the Meeting of the Marked at the end of October, and will be sitting for a six-hour tattoo. My ocean legging will be almost finished in this time period, and I’ll be one cranky dude immediately afterward. I’m not entirely sure why I judge this to merit a blog mention, but, it’s my name on the website, right?

Odds are that I shouldn’t have gotten some Rousseau tattooed on my lower forearm. But, what can I say? I very much enjoy getting tattooed. And this quote is amongst my favorites ever about politics. Makes sense, doesn’t it?

I’m headed to some sort of tattooing convention in October as a client of my friend Eric. He’ll be starting, and potentially finishing, a spiny lobster on my lower right leg, prey for my octopus. This strikes me as an expansion of my interest in tattooing. I’ll be getting inked in front of strangers, and for a very long period of time. If nothing else, this will certainly be interesting.

Of course, there will probably be professional ramifications for my apparent irresponsibility. I’m going to have to be extra careful when attending meetings and interviews - I won’t be able to go south of long sleeves, or anywhere near my feet. I suppose I should be worried. My parents will no doubt give me a doubting glance. But I maintain the following: I don’t want to work for people who don’t want me, for whatever reason. If that means that tattooing scares them off, so be it.

Martin is done. My daughter added a Gary to his name, so he is now Gary Martin. (She likes Spongebob’s pet snail, and frankly, so do I.) What else can be said. Eric Carlson at Wild Zero did unbelievable work. If you’re ever needing a tattoo in Morgantown, go there. Don’t even think about the other place.

Of course, I swore that I’d be done after this, that I would be absolutely finished. But…come on.

I can’t keep writing about the tattooing process. So instead, a story:

Look, it isn’t like I’m going to deny my own geeky tendencies. I watch terrible movies endlessly. I love playing sudoku. I may or may not still watch cartoons. I play video games. I certainly do things that any right thinking person would look at and consider to be very geek.

Still, when I have the opportunity to separate myself from the hardcore geeks, I’m going to take advantage of it. Because, honestly, I don’t want to be even tangentially associated with these people.

The Scene: Gamestop, by Target
The Performers: Brad (Assistant Manager), Other Geek, Me (Listening In)

Brad: So this woman calls wanting to return a game…

Other Geek: *nodding*

Brad: She say’s it’s damaged. She says that she’s been playing nonstop for 21 days and that the disc is damaged.

Other Geek: *nodding*

Brad: She says she’s played to a point where the disc will no longer play. I told her the warranty on used games only lasts for seven days.

Other Geek: *nodding*

Brad: She says that isn’t fair, she says “How was I supposed to know that the disc wouldn’t work if I only discovered it AFTER reaching a certain point in the game?”

Me, Thinking: That is a very reasonable question.

Other Geek: *nodding*

Brad: I didn’t even want to ask her.

Other Geek: *nodding*

Brad: But I did. I said, what game is it?

Other Geek: *nodding*

Brad: Get this. She said, God of War. As if it would take anyone could play for 21 days straight and not beat that game. A reasonable person would have it beaten in 4 days of straight playing.

Other Geek: Not everybody plays as many video games as you do.

Me: *choking on the story, walking out of the store shocked*

Needless to say, I don’t think Brad offered the woman an exchange. If only she’d been a better gamer…

Martin continues to be revealed on my leg. Eric spent another two hours last Thursday working on Martin’s head. This week I’ll sit for more work on the tentacles and the water. At some point, the other side will be begun.

My attitudes about tattooing keep changing. I once wrote that I liked the process of getting tattooed, and this is very true, but there is something about the finality of the work that I like too. A finished tattoo is evidence of accomplishment.

When I was in college, before the tattooing started, I ate very hot Indian food in Amherst. Unfortunately, the place where I used to eat has been overtaken by a coffee shop. The process of eating hot food was like a meditation. It took time and energy and focus to finish a plate of blazing food. I had to gather myself to properly approach the meal. Seeing the empty dish was evidence of an accomplishment. Here I had done something that few other people had.

Tattooing creates the same feeling. Seeing this image appear on my leg is a sign of accomplishment, evidence that I sat through the pain (although it really isn’t that painful, particularly on the leg). For some reason, I crave accomplishment in this form.

This post is too long.

Martin, my leg’s new octopus, is now surrounded by a nice water. Eric at Wild Zero is doing a ridiculously good job. The next step is bringing the water up to the bottom of my knee, coloring Martin in, and then, as I wrote before, planning for the other side of my leg.

I was talking to Eric the other day, and he was talking about Grime Monster, an artist out of San Francisco. Apparently, he maintains both very high standards and very high expectations of others. One of his criticisms is that, until you’ve walked around with visible tattooing, you can’t imagine what the experience is like.

Unlike the rest of my work, my leg is on regular display. I suppose I’ll be finding out about the rightness of his criticism.

Today, I went for the first of several coloring sessions on Martin, my leg’s octopus. (He is named Martin after our nation’s eighth president, Martin Van Buren. I am the biggest nerd you’ve ever met.) I sat for roughly two hours. My leg has been bandaged ever since.

Yesterday, I ran into a friend’s sister, who wanted to know what it was about tattooing that I liked: the process, the end result, the pain? A good question; for me, the answer is the process. Watching my skin disappear is fun.

The question now turns toward the rest of my lower right leg. As the one side of my lower right leg disappears, what happens to the other? What goes on that particular side? And why?

Above, albeit blurry, you can see the outline of the last tattoo that I’ll be getting for a while. Although large - most of my lower right leg will disappear behind the ink by the time the coloring is finished - it isn’t a particularly complex thing. It is a simple octopus.

Almost all of my other tattoos, I’d like to believe, have some sort of meaning. But I feel like I’m getting older, and those meanings? I don’t owe them to anybody. I happen to like getting tattooed, and I happen to like octopi (or octopuses, or octopodes, if you’re into that sort of thing). Combining these two pleasures just makes sense to me.

The other plus of my recent tattooing binge - in three months, I’ve gone from three to six - is going to a place that I actually like. Morgantown’s Wild Zero Studios is good for me, because it caters to a different crowd than most parlors. Namely, the redneck/biker quotient is low. I certainly don’t object to rednecks/bikers necessarily, but they aren’t my people, and I’m not theirs. Better that I can get my work done without listening to Bad Company rock it out for the 458th time.

By the time the octopus is done, I think that I will have reached my limit in the short term. Most of my available real estate will be covered: one on my chest, one taking up the top two-thirds of my back, and three on my shoulders/upper arms. I could keep cramming work in there, but I have to wonder what the point would be. Which isn’t to say that I’d swear off tattooing forever. I took a three year break for somebody else, and then found myself back in a parlor. The chances I eventually go back are obviously high.

Apparently, the presence of this on my body is justification enough to be refused medical attention. More dastardly, the presence of this on my body is also enough to refuse my daughter medical attention.

Perhaps more baffling than the refusal is the rationale behind it. The doctor is a Christian, and believes that tattoos degrade his office. He is trying to be upstanding and moral you see, and that means banning the tattooed from treatment.

I am not a religious man. I have never read the Bible. But surely Jesus Christ wasn’t refusing salvation to individuals depending upon their appearance. Or perhaps he was, just as Mother Theresa, while working with poor in Calcutta, refused treatment to “the icky, the gross, and generally different.”

Mother Theresa famously said, “I don’t mind working with those who are different from me, as long as they are exactly like me in every conceivable way.”

Oh wait - she never said that. That was the Christian doctor mentioned earlier. My mistake.