Last night an old dragon, gentleman and heart of gold died on a – let´s call it – heart-attack at a spa. – How godfathers bid farewell. Guess Travis would love it. He had belt-buckle with “gangster”, a nickname the locals gave him. A tattooed head doesn´t reveal yourself in a more upright light. He freaked out telling me that someone accused him to be a racist. He was dissapointed. Made him sad to be misunderstood. He was straightforward. A steady look. Resting eyes, in madness and furiousness.
My last chat with him the day before yesterday. He supposed to redo my palms tomorrow, I mean yesterday, instead of going to the spa. I supposed to meet him today. He delayed the session, the photographer, the reason for the spontaneous arrangement, hasn´t arrived yet from Phnom Penh. So his last tattoo was on the bun of a drunken dildo with 21 Dollars in his pocket, sunday at 3 a.m.. Travis was running mad on him with a taser, “Are you fuckin´ kidding me!” Old dragons still able to spit the fire. Meanwhile smiling under his scales.
The last couple of chats we had he introduced me proudly and permanently on the go with a glowing enthusiasm what changes have been done at his studio, Gunplay Tattoo, and what he is planning next, how he wanna improve his business, so artists can enjoy a relaxed and inspiring surrounding and don´t have to worry about customers. He needed to earn more money, not least to support further the local structures. – And disco-lights for his crocodiles! “They are my pets.”
I remember him singing a Danzig song after he did the back of my head.
I didn´t know him that long. We called us brothers, like people are used to here in Siem Reap. Anyway. Finally, a friend died.
Sad sad monday.
11th of may 2014