Tattoos are a strange thing. On one hand, you’re literally putting your thoughts on your body, for the world to see and comment on. If you put a neo-Nazi tattoo on yourself, chances are you’re going to be looked upon quite disapprovingly from most people, or be putting fear into a lot of people’s hearts. Love the Red Sox and want the world to know? Get a “B” tattoo in your uncle Sully’s garage to show the world your love. Most tattoos, however, are very personal with some story behind them. So while they’re essentially in the public view, they also can carry a lot of private weight, sometimes pain. This type of pain is almost always best displayed in the form of symbolism, of course, to circumvent dealing with discussing the obvious.
Another unfortunate aspect of tattoos are dealing with the types who not only feel the need to touch your tattoos without permission, or show you their (usually shitty) tattoos unsolicited. I cannot recall a conversation where someone showed me their “ink” after accosting me that I was actually impressed with the work they’ve had done. Oddly enough, this has happened not once, but twice in the elevator at work. Typically, the convo goes something like this:
them: “Where’d ja get yer ink done?”
me: “what?”
them: “yeah, you should check out this place in bumfuck nowhere called Prision Tattoos R Us. It’s where I got this:” *shows tribal interpretation of dolphin jumping over taz on lower back*
me: “oh, that’s… nice”
them: “yeah you should check ‘em out.”
why would i take advice from someone like this?? I would never say to myself, “you’re right, the tattoos which I have are not nearly as good as that one you picked out of a magazine and had your cousin do in the back of his pickup truck after drinking a 12 pack of icehouse. I’m glad i took your advice on that one.”
All that said, much love to Jason Vaughn, who works at Deluxe Tattoo on Irving Park.
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