Saturday, 03/21/09 - 12:54 pm.
I met my tattoo artist last night. He's seen my design and I'll be getting inked in a couple of weeks. I want this, I'm just a little scared someday I won't want it anymore...and I'm also scared -a lot- of my parents' reaction, if they find out one day.
NOTE TO SELF: buy a bathrobe.
I'm told he's the best tattoo artist in the country, and three people told me the same thing, about his fine hand and his unique technique.
I met this guy by accident, he happened to be hanging out at the bar CR, Al and I had just arrived to. Let's call it the M Bar, yes? That's where I went to two nights ago with Brother #1 and niece. Last night was packed, because huge bands were playing. Al didn't get me in for free this time.
As usual, I'd picked up CR at our spot and we went to a small bar/caf� near my university. He called Al, who sounded a little reluctant to show up but he did, and he said he wanted to attend the gig at the M. Even though he had to be at work at 6 am today. He sleeps a lot during the day, I've noticed.
Outside I met the tat guy, and we found out that there was a tattoo giveaway, to celebrate another great tattoo artist's birthday. This guy inked Al, so I'd heard he was pretty good too. Everyone there seemed to know him personally. Then again, some people seem to be really popular in that scene, not able to walk three steps without someone calling their name. My friend Cel is one of those people (if she still lived here), and so is Al.
I barely saw him during the night. There were nice moments, like when he offered me a drink and then said he didn't want to peer-pressure me; I gave in, because I wanted to. Like when I asked him how much it was, so I could pay him back, and he said I don't go to work at 6 am to not buy you a drink. Like when we hi-five'd/intertwined fingers briefly when he learned about my tattoo. Like when he pushed me and I pushed him back, emulating the chaos of the mosh pit below us. And that was it. The rest of the evening I just saw him walking around and talking to people. Seeing how popular he is, I suppose I should just be glad I get to hang out with him from time to time.
When he and CR walked me to my car at the end of the gig, I asked Al, so, when do I get to kick your ass at Starfox? Because I will. Long story short (because his reply became a conversation on videogames), we may get together this week to play. I'm looking forward to this; shooting down Arwings is pretty much the closest I'll ever be to getting physical with him. Except I'm fearing he won't be the one to say "come on over", which means I'll have to ask CR to talk to him. I fear that my pursuit in getting together may make me look like I am interested in him...and I am, I just don't want to give it away. I'm a pal to him, and as the Cookie Monster song that my baby nephew sings goes, that's good enough for me.
To my surprise, I've slept all morning, except for one hour and a half in which I went out to have breakfast with my parents and Brother #1. I crashed when I got back home and I woke up at noon. I'm a little inspired to do some things, but I can't translate my chemical synapses.
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