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As though nothing had happened in the last few weeks, no motorbike accident, no emotional mayhem, no lapses worth to mention, not even a tiny babel, I decided to get some more tattoos. At theses spots, which are always annoying if you have to break with your daily excercises or common “I don´t have to look after my body, take care, rub it, burn it with antiseptic, sacrifice my sleep for lying in the most comfortable position, the whole night, like a vamp. The body works, how it should, he works like you should serve, me, his master.” Now I don´t even know how to meet my desires, in this lonesome hot nights, *Zisch*. – Got my palms and the back of my head done. At my most famous tattoo studio in Asia till now. During my first visit at Gunplay Tattoo, I was discussing with my body if this is a good place to be. Travis, head done, upper part of his body nearly done. Zach, head done, fingers, hands done, upper part of his body and one leg nearly done as far as I could see, he was not half naked. The studio itself, asian style, no, no palmtrees, no bamboo, no parasols, flowering furniture and ornamental kitchy statue whatever bullshit. Maybe not asian style at all, but for sure cambodian, little bit rough, meaning half done, little bit suspicious, meaning demented, in that I-feel-welcome way, welcome to the asylum. Travis is a hunter, literally, it matches just perfectly, couldn´t be less dead on target. I donßt like this I-look-into-your-eyes-and-I-tell-you-what-kind-of-person-you-are spiritual nonsense, but his eyes were telling me, this gonna blacken the machine. Zach the same. Both quite, unexcitedly, so far they could be from the Allgäu, my homeland. Respectful, with their hearts at the right, actually left place. Humans. My taste of. Travis reminding me of my gangster cousin, who died of an drug overdose, grotty, in a bush, on the way to the petrol station to buy for sure some more hard liquor. A son. Divorced. Listening to their stories about the kids, dropped back in my teenhood, wishing I would have had a father like him, just the good parts of. But have you ever seen a devil with innocent lightning wings? Watching people at the shop, walk in, watching in their eyes, their faces, when they realize the surrounding, where they ran into, trying not to gaze at these full-tattooed gangsters, hanging around half naked, listening to the voice of the devil, smoking, drinking, water – “They sure faked the bottles”, and hardly welcome them, not like back in their holiday fantasy of a cute small memory, a souvenir from Cambodia. Reminding me to my first tattoo artist I worked with, a guy from my homeland, a typical Allgäuer, countryside boy, rude at quite at the same time. “Hello, hm, I… I…” a 17 year young girl, after waiting, watching the his shop again and again, putting all her courage together and started to ask, in trembling words. “Ha? Can I help?” “Yes, I… I… hm… I am here for a tattoo.” With a derogatory smile on his lips, even then not looking at her at all, “That´s pretty clear.” Well yeah, she is standing at the front-desk of a tattoo studio, looking at a full-tattooed guy tattooing a half-tattooed kid… back in the years… whatever. So today, I mean yesterday, I was at this shop, Gunplay. After I decided, dind´t take me that long, 2 seconds. Looking at Travis, like any other person does, sudden death of all categories, only one left, for the bad boys. I don´t know how other full- or more-tattooed guys running into this kind of face-to-face with your own mirror category, but not realizing myself always like the bad boy – maybe that´s why I have to act sometimes like one – I feel the same like everyone does. Because we are all humans, members of this poisened by an abstract concepts and fear sorting system of surviving in this mindfucking society medial thing called life. The point is, I don´t feel fear at all, just curiosity and I am scared of myself, I know the attraction, I feel it, don´t fall into, don´t fall into, don´t loose yourself, again, stay, the tattoos you planed as a cut, symbols, marking this period of life, for the last weeks, for the deepest downs of the last weeks. You just felt of your bike, don´t run crazy now. Stick to the plan, just your knuckels – I canceled after head and palm, enough pain, palms and head, ok?! Do you listen! Listen to me!!! After a chat, exchanging lifestories, investigating Travis´s left foot, hell what a swollen brick, whatever is in there, it is puking the place over with its purulence. I remembered my blood infection in Thailand 10 years ago, nearly had lost my leg. My head was not the pain I expected, different, still pain, especially at the center of the dome. With my eyes down to the ground, watching my crusted pinky framed foot, watching changing the color to purple, prick by prick. After that Zach did my palms and that was the most weird pain I ever had by tattooing. With every move of the machine on my palm, the different nerves of my fingers were hyped. Dancing, banging to the electrifing beats of the blackening machine. I could feel how the frequences were crawling as fast as power does from the palm up to the fingertips. It`s hard to say what hurts more, that weirdness or the beating needles itself. Satan bless! It dind´t take too long, less than an hour, but after that I had to cancel the knuckles. No way, well, maybe not no, but enough pain for the day, I am still running out of energy quite fast, without the daily exercises, which keep me in shape and healthy, and still in healing progress. Durinig my session with Zach, Travis did some Karaoke, Danzig, Acid bar and other old school dooming. An individual late afternoon sermon. – Big thanks to you guys, we will see each other again, I am not running crazy, but maybe I am a little bit, in the eyes the upright beholders. Less to stop.
Driving home with the motorbike, with bleeding palms, was quite interesting and so I was relieved arriving home safe, with some beers and papers in my basket. I expected kids and Soya and Alex at my place, asked myself if I just kick them out, which would be no problem at all, beside the fact, that they would start to worry what is wrong…
I can´t stand the following phrases anymore:
“Don´t worry, Florian, I will find solution.”
Why you don´t let me help you, you won´t find a solution, the solution is to pray or the wish, hope, but not find a way to work on it. I can help you, you don´t have to do this by your own, you help me all the time and whenever I need help, so why you don´t let me help you? – I don´t want to make you sad. HELL!!!
“Don´t think too much, Florian, you will be sad.”
I love to think, I can not not think, you as well, it is not possible, we always think, it is good to think, because we can find solutions, beautiful minds and push us further. It makes me sad, yes, maybe, but I don´t care if I am sad or not, sadness is part of life, like death.
“Don´t be sad, Florian, be happy.”
I can´t be happy all the time, nobody can, it is not possible! Sadnedd prepares us for the worst, happiness makes us stronger to feel hope when it is getting worst, we are living with ups and downs but most of our time we spend in between, there is something like that, yes believe me, it is called life, just live, but don´t just life, ok? Do you understand?
And again, what I want to reach with my western criticism.
So, don´t worry be happy, right?
… so after the beers and burning some paper I was ready to find a rest, with my head, shit, lying on your back, because of the shoulder and the broken ribs, and not on the back of your head, fuck, what a mess. The plan was to do these spots now, so I can combine both healing periods, the tattoos and the accident injuries… didn´t thought about the practical part.
Took me two hours to fall asleep. I heard someone at the door, trying to unbar, switching directions again and again. That must be Soya, only can be, she has the only key. Hell!!! She was rushing to my bed, nearly jumping on, asking me if everything is alright and if I am not sick. What? Why should I? Someone at DMS told her. I start to hate that game, telling people something which is not true at all, to force them to act, about what topic ever. “Why you are not sick?” “Why should I? I just had some beer and want to relax, Soya?!” “Ok. So, I brought Remo with me, he is here now (the new volunteer).” HELL!!! I hate when she is doing this. I am sure he didn´t know what he is up to as well. “But I want to sleep now, Soya, it is late.” “Ok, so I go now, bye bye.” Turning around, leaving with Maria, one of the orphans, she was just standing there, worried that I am sick, again. I hate when I doing this to them. At this time false on top. She is closing the door. I hate when she closes the door or locks the door. But I was too lazy to stand up. I didn´t had to because after 5 minutes the door opens again, Soya and Maria again with Remo in tow. “Florian, here he is, Remo, you can talk now.” “What??!!!!” Hell. I am smiling now, this is so absurd sometimes. Especially when it comes to privacy, the cultural differences or my needs couldn´t sometimes be more opposite. Sometimes I feel like talking into a long, very long pipe, you never know who is listening or if someone listened at all. I realize that I am just half adopted – or I assimilate, not finished yet. My door is always open, I welcome everyone, sometimes they don´t mind if I am here or wherever, they jsut wanna stay here, relax, taking a shower, watching TV, cleaning their clothes, cooking, whatever. I never thought this kind of living togehter is possible, that I find an arrangement with my fussy habits and my desire to be alone. But it works and it eases me, no, it makes me happy! But sometimes it just surprises me and I don´t know how to behave, so I try to be honest, which I was, not polite or this kind of a western humble courtesy, which is, by the way, more cowardly than polite. Just say how you feel! But. Hard to make them understand than you wanna be alone… alone? Ok, one minute, two? Why alone? To o thing like you don´t wanna or you more don´t have to see?! Alone just because of. I don´t know. I sarted to feel quite comfortable and alone, even I am surrounded by kids or brothers and sisters hanging around, living with me, sharing the apartment – Why? Each of them is just amazing. Alone not in a bad way, more in a relaxed way, don´t worry about what you do, maybe not about everything, or why you are, just be, don´t think, just say, we help each other. But sometimes there are days or evenings like that, especially when the “intruder” is a really one, meaning a stranger, meaning a guy from the other side, from the west, and you start to feel ashamed again, for him, for the situation, for whatever, instead of just sayin, help yourself, you can hang around here, but I am done for the day. Good night.