Winter Solstice Came and Went and All I got Was This Lousy T-Shirt...

All right - this was verbatim from my Myspace blog, but it's as relevant right now as it was when I wrote it. It's the 9th, kids - watch your backs, keep your heads down and stay focused. We'll be all right...

When you love something, and you can't do it (ie tattooing), you start to get a little squirrely. And if you add to that how friggin' weird the winters have been lately, there's nothing to do but sit at home and lose your mind.

Not that I'm a stranger to that. I mean, the first couple of times are kind of a big deal. Post-war blues, relationship bs, bad days that last a month - I've weathered it all, more or less. But how much is too much? Is there that "one last time" that your mind snaps and you don't find your way home?

Ah, who cares. I'm just here for the snacks and the front row seats. The Chinese have a curse that roughly translates as, "May you live in interesting times". New President, same bs. Bread and circuses for everyone. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain because he's not putting gas in your tank or food on your table.

Which brings me back to being a tattoo artist, arguably a decent one, sitting on my ass watching YouTube and wasting time and wondering why I'm not doing what I do. Winter's always slow for tattoo artists. Regulars become irregular. Newbies buy diapers and off-road diesel and sleep with visions of tax refund checks dancing in their heads. Sure, I get the occasional straggler but this place is a ghost town. People are huddled in their beds, wishing it all just went away so we can be back to the way it used to be.

There is no "used to be". It was never the "Good Old Days. The Man has always held us down. We just forgot how to deftly extend our middle fingers and loudly proclaim, "Fuck it! I'm going fishing!" Those were the closest we ever had to the good old days, when we didn't give a damn about anything but living our lives.

My wife, under duress about my ability to leave the planet on a moment's notice, reminds me that there's only one place to be - with people you care about, that care about you, and share a common goal of survival and kinship. I don't give a rat's ass about global events unless it results in someone pissing in my pool. I don't play the stock market. I am not a mover or a shaker, unless the door is locked and the kids are in bed. I not a global citizen - I'm a guy that knows some people and wants to make sure they're taken care of. I grew up here, moved away, came back - there's no place like home.

When the New World Order knocks on your door, tell them you've "already got one - it's very nice!" Take care of one another. Watch their backs. Live locally and let the towers fall. Our purpose her is to be who WE are. High school drama's over, kids. Time to be who you are. DO what you do, damn the torpedos, and we'll all get through just fine.

P.S. Anyone need ink? I can use a couple of bucks and I'm in the mood to unleash some really creative shit. All reasonable barters considered, as long as it's food, fuel or things I can't do worth a shit.

Peace!