Done by Shannon at Vitality Tatoo

The experience was amazing!  Yes, it hurt a lot especially in the bony places but I definately went into a trance for some of it and experienced a whole range of positive emotions.

I’m not feeling neary as melancholy now as when I wrote those other posts.  I kissed a girl, that cheered me up some

I’m glad because I want to be in a good place when I get my tattoo.  I know I will remember it always and forever.  My friend who told me about the artist, said she’d never regret any of her artwork because it reminded her of who she was at that time in her life.  I thought that was beautiful.

I need to pick out some tunes to listen to while I’m getting it.  I was thinking a little techno, a little Tool, maybe some Tori Amos and Incus.

I had a deep conversation with a friend of mine who I think I have a lot in common with.  We are both constantly seeking an intensity to life, different ways to deepen the experience of being on this planet.  I have trouble believing that some people skate through their entire lives just “being.”  Going to work, raising their families, just existing to take up space and move on.  At a recent funeral I was just hit with the emptiness of it all.  I mean, yes, this person was loved and shared their incredible love with everyone they met.  But at the same time they let a completely unremarkable life.  I don’t want my eulogy to read like that.  I have a deep seated need to experience “more.”  My friend said we are meant to feel whatever we feel but sometimes I feel so damn guilty about my desires.  Still suffering from my puritian upbringing and wrestling with the expectations I am required to meet each and every day.  Some days I just want to flush all my responsibilites down the toilet and “rip it and grip it.”

She was the first woman who ever paid any sexual attention to me. And she was my High Priestess. She was supposed to be the embodiment of the Goddess. How could I not love her? Her name was Maeve, mother goddess of all Ireland, the land I had practically worshipped since childhood. Like a lithe dancer she moved, weightless in her thin pale skin. To my young impressionable 18 year old self she seemed like the key that would open all the doors in the universe.

Older than me, Maeve seemed to have experienced so many things that I could only imagine. I listened, a rapt pupil, to her fantastical stories of hauntings, sex, and drugs. I wanted her with a desire that I had never known before. There was no way I could be good enough for her, I was just a child who didn’t know how to act. I simply followed her. I would have followed her off the ends of the earth.

Men were simple. They wanted me, if I wanted them, we fucked. But that, you see, was my fundamental problem. I can picture it all in my mind now, 15 years later, as an outside observer. I can even put myself in Maeve’s shoes. Maybe she wasn’t sure how I felt about her. Maybe I hurt her feelings when I slept with those guys she knew. At the time she seemed like she was above all that. How could lowly little me reject the Goddess herself?