Oh God! Dear God! I try, I try so hard to NOT be a loner, to try and “get” this culture, this time, to get along, to find a place to fit in. In that spirit I decided to forgo my contempt for tattoos and join the SAW gang in getting a little discreet SAW tattoo. I just wanted to be “in” for a change. For once I did not want to be on the outside of an activity because of my standards, standards that keep me home alone most of the time. I just wanted to be “in”
No, I went to the tattoo “parlor” and sat in the the waiting room, mired in ugly death metal, ugly people, ugly badass testosterone bullshit, ugly skulls with ugly flames and ugly daggers on hairy ugly legs. Sleazy, the whole place was sleazy, and NOT in a fun Jess Franco sorta way, but in a way that is reductive. The whole place was wallowing in darkness, aggression, hostility, and the loss of hope that these times have instilled in people. I felt miserably uncomfortable, in fact, sick to my stomach. In fact, as I sat in that tattoo “parlor” I realized that every single thing I hated was in evidence in that room. Every single thing. It was as if I was being shown a sneak preview of a hell that has been designed especially for me if I’m a bad girl.
I got the hell out of that dreadful negative environment and got home as quickly as I could and am now baptizing my ears in “Hope Of Deliverance,” and still feeling (45 minutes later) my lip curled in disgust, my stomach still knotted… STILL!
So, I guess as it turns out, I hate tattoos, and I HATED that place, that horrid horrid place so full of ugliness.
No more, Justine, no more. Be true to yourself, your standards, and let them have it. And if that means spending your life alone… so be it.