This video has very little to do with my words below, except to stay Scott Bourne has potentially the mother of all regrets inked along his arms. Anyway, try to ignore the fact that this video is an advertisement, as the company in question actually do a rather tasteful job of representing skateboarding, albeit when cashing in on it.
On the 23rd of May 2013 I have scheduled my first tattoo. And then we are going to have one hell of a party. Oh boy, it is going to be a party. You see on the 23rd of May, the year of our lord 2013, I will be turning 38. Maybe. You see 37, is a crucial age along a certain lineage of my family. On my mother’s side I will be the next male to reach 37. Maybe. You see, old man Mervyn had a fatal heart attack and then his oldest child, Mike had his heart attack also at 37. I’m next. Mike survived, perhaps I will also and so I will be having a party, after I get my tattoo of course.
Now, what I shall I get? Maybe I will get my dad tattooed on my back and then we can fall out, never speak again and I can cross his face out with a sharpie.... if I can reach around that far… Ah but wait a minute, I have to be honest here, I got that idea from Jason Jesse (look him up). He got some tattoos back when mostly sailors, bikers and criminals were inked up. Jason Jesse was a rather young man to be having tattoos at that time. He had a great one of his dad that he crossed out and then talked about regretting all his tattoos. I thought that that was a fantastic concept, a body stained with permanent mistakes. I like the idea of tattoos that one might grow to regret. They are the next best thing to faded, worn, wrinkle-ridden, sun bleached, shitty tattoos from thirty years ago.
And that is why I want a tattoo. The future regret is going to be so fun to wrestle with. And that is also why it doesn’t matter what I get. Whatever means something to me that day will do. Maybe I will find God that day and announce it to everyone who wants to see my bear, shaven chest. Maybe a certain political or religious persuasion will have me convinced and I will purchase a life-time subscription to its dogma. Maybe, someone I love will die and I will begin a collection of dead people along my arm. Dates of births and deaths and so on. Most likely, I will find symbolic gesture in a particular piece art and I will align myself with its implied philosophy forevermore because after I turn 38 I will ‘be’ forevermore.
Don’t get me wrong here, I’m not being sarcastic. Well I am being sarcastic but I do like tattoos. I like yours and I really like looking at them adorning your body.
But my body, it changes. I change. One day, I’m a militant vegan, the next I’m hunting elk. Every seven years, I’m a completely new person with a new code of ethics, a new political stance, new interests, I acquire new tastes and I’m made up of completely new cells. Or so the theory goes.
So who will be getting the tattoo when I turn 38?
An old bastard, who went from an angst ridden seventeen year old to a bitter seventy year old overnight, on the 23rd of May 2013, that is who.