and so it begins

i realize that until we make our way towards june 27, 2006, this will be a bit of a retrospective. sometimes when ideas come up after perhaps they should have started, we must reflect to find out how we came to be in our current state. if you don't like it, well, i don't really care. don't read this. if you don't like tattoos, that is fine too, don't read this. i do not mean to be standoffish or snobby, please realize that this is solely for the love of life and ink. if you think you're up for the journey, please come along, i'd love to have you for the ride.

so, yes, i should start at the beginning, as that is usually a pleasant place to start. though i diverge, in that it is not always the place i wish i were.

one thing you should know about me is that i am a dreamer. in my head, this is a book, and it's already done. many mornings i wake up to a finished play, film, novel, cookbook or song at my fingertips, only to drop piece by piece off my skin on the way to the bathroom and to be completely washed away by the cold morning showers. damn, i knew i should have written that down while i was still lying in bed.

anyway, so this originated as an idea that seemed funny to me. remember that ridiculous display of comradery in the 80s called "hands across america?" i don't know what it really proved other than that someone had a large promotional budget and quite a bit of time. ah, i digress again. you'll notice very quickly that i am quite tangential. love it or hate it, 'tis i.

so, each morning when i wake up, i rub my eyes and look at my right arm. this is to say, when i'm not remembering whatever incredible piece appeared that night. so, again, i look at my right arm. embedded seven or so layers beneath the skin are millions of little pieces of pigment that form the shape of a young boy catching leaves falling off of a tree. my buddy dan told me once that he read about the idea of rubbing the insides of ones arms in order to calm them, so he would often utilize this technique before falling asleep and upon waking to make the transitional phases all the nicer. so, with that i often will rub the insides of my arms in an almost meditative state and gaze upon my arm, almost without notice that it somehow differs from most people's.

ok, back to "hands across america." imagine, if you will, my morning routine and this idea somehow smashing together like goats, rams, what have you. this tremendous crash produced the beautiful, albeit cheesy and lame, idea of "inked across america," in which three thousand miles worth of tattooed men and women would stretch their painted skin arm to arm to connect the oceans. that's only 500 people, isn't it? hell, i know probably 50 people with significant enough coverage that they should be allowed. i've got 10%, how hard could this be. well, obviously there are hills, and lakes and highways and blah blah blah, so i'd probably need closer to 750 people or so, but i stopped caring when i realized how stupid of an idea it was. i know, it's ridiculous. but, the ever-thinking brain i have switched gears. what if "inked across america" meant something else? what if "inked" were a verb rather than an adjective or noun? what if this were a call to an adventure that i must complete? well, obviously this spawns other ideas. how would i pay for this? what would i get done? who would care? and so on. i have some answers to each of these questions, and would hopefully have help in further answering them in time. until said time should arrive, however, i think i will start with this little blog. here, i will begin the discussion of putting ink under my skin for a lifetime, and from there we will see where the road takes us. i hope you enjoy yourself, as i know i will and am.
pj