February 7th, 2008

breeden

Tattoo Day Two

Arm is sore as hell, and extremely stiff, as you might expect. Tattoo still looks beautiful. I'm having the usual startlement when I see myself in the mirror--"Dude! Ink!" It's sort of like when you get a new haircut--it's not that it's bad, it's just startling, because your self-image hasn't caught up yet.

Tattoo care is a stone bitch the first few days...I'm applying this goop called "Aquaphor" that was recommended by the tattoo parlor. It's like gluey Vasoline. Apparently it improves the healing rate dramatically--the tattoo won't scab over so much as flake, and it's supposed to heal up in five days--but the stuff is nasty thick, and since there's still ink leaking off, and mixing with this nasty gluey stuff, I'm having to sleep with a towel to avoid staining my sheets. And cleaning it off so I can soap up the tattoo twice a day is a mild agony. Still, if it heals in half the time, it's worth it.

I'm reduced to wearing black tank tops for the next few days. Fortunately, this is the major part of my wardrobe already. Still--"Why did I do this right before a convention?" I moaned last night at Anime Night.

"If it wasn't a convention, it would have been something else," said my buddy Mike sagely. And he was right. And on that note, it looks like I'm getting a show through the Town of Cary art center sometime this coming year, which is another kind of awesome. (Watch, it'll fall right before the delivery of the first book. I will bet you a chicken.)

Phew! Off for lunch with Deb...
breeden

(no subject)

You know, they may not have the funding of the bigger fish, but Sofawolf Press are still the nicest publishers on the PLANET.

Who else would send one of their authors a gorgeous bouquet of flowers to congratulate them on a publishing deal and a new tattoo?

And this is why I'll keep sending 'em my weird little quirky projects as long as they want to take them...
breeden

(no subject)

So for today's big adventure, I went back out to the sex toy shop, with my buddy Deb and a friend of hers from out of town.

You haven't lived until you've gone to a sex toy shop with two romance writers old enough to be your mother. I think I may be scarred for life.

The image we presented must have been mildly absurd--two very well dressed, matronly women, both of whom were wearing vivid turquoise, and a much younger chick looking rather goth* and holding her right arm as if it might attack at any moment. It got worse when we reached the relevant stock and started talking. "Ursula! Do you see one with a bigger head?" "...Deb, I love you, but I am NOT helping you pick out vibrators." "You're such a prude. Oooh, look, vibrating underwear!"

The number of sex toys that can now be attached via USB cable alarms me on some fundamental level.

So we escaped with our lives and X-rated schwag, and went off to a bookstore, chatted with a very nice woman about ordering Nurk come June, and then I went into the coffee shop and was complimented on my tattoo by the baristas, whereupon a woman came up to me and said "Is that a kingfisher?"

"THANK YOU!" I said, since I've been half-worried people would think it was a woodpecker. "Yes! I'm a birder..."

"Oh, me too! I'm in the New Hope Audubon Society! Is there a spiritual significance...?"

"Well, kingfishers are supposed to symbolize going fearlessly into the unknown, and I got this divorce last year, so I figured..."

"Oh, me too! I just got a divorce in October! I feel great!"

"All right!"

We shook hands.

So what I have learned today--other than that shopping for sex toys with romance writers is both fun and alarming--is that a tattoo this size is even more of a conversation starter than the armband was. I've been handing out the name of Blue Flame Tattoo, and Christy, to all and sundry.



*I should probably just accept that the hair and tattoos have pushed me over the edge on that front. Although I may have passed "goth" and hit "mildly alarming."