Mike Vanderbilt (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} serialldykiller) wrote,@ 2004-10-28 13:47:00 |
|
"Let me show you my tattoo..."
In February of 2004, I got my first tattoo. I had thought about it for years. I’m rock and roll, and rock and rollers need tattoos. What could I get though? A long time ago I promised myself if I ever invested in body art it would be something that I drew myself, something that meant something to me, and above all looked fucking cool. Tattoos I would avoid were Irish Flags, Celtic crosses, and anything barbed wire. I also vowed never to pick one off of a wall. It was gonna be something I loved, at that something turned out to be Jason Voorhees.
On a spring break trip to Florida, my friend Nick and my friend Dan visited a Tattoo parlor. Dan picked one off the wall. It was a sword going through the skin. It was cool, but a bit obvious I thought. I could not commit to a tattoo as of yet, but I wanted to do something.
“How much for a nipple piercing?” I asked.
“35 dollars each.”
“Gimmie two!”
I plopped down my seventy bucks and got pierced.
It’d didn’t hurt that much, but it was a bit of an annoyance that night. I just drank the pain away. I got used to them real quick.
I thought and thought. What could I get tattooed on my body. What would look cool and mean something to me? Rebel alliance symbol? A little too obvious and a little TOO geeky (although, I would still do it.). Then one day while working at Borders, I drew a sketch. It was a sketch that would be my first tattoo. It was Jason Voorhees’ hockey mask. It was perfect. Not too big, symmetrical and VERY cool. This was it.
I sat on the idea for a while until one week last February, I noticed something. The night before Valentines Day was Friday the 13th. I had money in my pocket, and no Valentine to speak of. It was a sign; it was an omen that I must get that tattoo. Dan, my sister and I drove up to the Tattoo Factory on Montrose on the north side of Chicago. I entered, drawing in hand, and got inked. The artist was excited that he got to do a Jason tattoo on Friday the 13th of all days. I remember The Only One’s ‘Another Girl, Another Planet” blaring on the sound system followed by several Ramones tunes as the needle pierced my flesh. It didn’t hurt all that much, but I’m a bit of a pain junkie I suppose.
After all was said and done, I was more than satisfied with the final project. They think it’s silly. In all honesty though, tattoos are silly in general. Some people ask “Why Jason?” I grew up on horror movies. Some of my earliest memories were watching horror flicks on the late, late movie with my mother. The Jason saga was born in 1980; the same year as me, and Jason Voorhees has gotten me as much pussy as Ryan Adams AND Robert Smith. I could not think of a better tribute.
In February of 2004, I got my first tattoo. I had thought about it for years. I’m rock and roll, and rock and rollers need tattoos. What could I get though? A long time ago I promised myself if I ever invested in body art it would be something that I drew myself, something that meant something to me, and above all looked fucking cool. Tattoos I would avoid were Irish Flags, Celtic crosses, and anything barbed wire. I also vowed never to pick one off of a wall. It was gonna be something I loved, at that something turned out to be Jason Voorhees.
On a spring break trip to Florida, my friend Nick and my friend Dan visited a Tattoo parlor. Dan picked one off the wall. It was a sword going through the skin. It was cool, but a bit obvious I thought. I could not commit to a tattoo as of yet, but I wanted to do something.
“How much for a nipple piercing?” I asked.
“35 dollars each.”
“Gimmie two!”
I plopped down my seventy bucks and got pierced.
It’d didn’t hurt that much, but it was a bit of an annoyance that night. I just drank the pain away. I got used to them real quick.
I thought and thought. What could I get tattooed on my body. What would look cool and mean something to me? Rebel alliance symbol? A little too obvious and a little TOO geeky (although, I would still do it.). Then one day while working at Borders, I drew a sketch. It was a sketch that would be my first tattoo. It was Jason Voorhees’ hockey mask. It was perfect. Not too big, symmetrical and VERY cool. This was it.
I sat on the idea for a while until one week last February, I noticed something. The night before Valentines Day was Friday the 13th. I had money in my pocket, and no Valentine to speak of. It was a sign; it was an omen that I must get that tattoo. Dan, my sister and I drove up to the Tattoo Factory on Montrose on the north side of Chicago. I entered, drawing in hand, and got inked. The artist was excited that he got to do a Jason tattoo on Friday the 13th of all days. I remember The Only One’s ‘Another Girl, Another Planet” blaring on the sound system followed by several Ramones tunes as the needle pierced my flesh. It didn’t hurt all that much, but I’m a bit of a pain junkie I suppose.
After all was said and done, I was more than satisfied with the final project. They think it’s silly. In all honesty though, tattoos are silly in general. Some people ask “Why Jason?” I grew up on horror movies. Some of my earliest memories were watching horror flicks on the late, late movie with my mother. The Jason saga was born in 1980; the same year as me, and Jason Voorhees has gotten me as much pussy as Ryan Adams AND Robert Smith. I could not think of a better tribute.
