visitations.

my peoples are here,
all the way from philadelphia...
that's active participation, yo.
3 monthly visits.
in a row.
and P.F.D. action is scheduled to commence.
plus, it's a full moon tonight,
and that's always what's poppin....
berserker barbarian bonfires will be blazed!!!
i'm lookin' forward to cider doughnuts and a hacking cough.
gh, yo. it's such a versatile consonant combination.
word.


awwwwwwwwwwwww.
little wings.
like a beautiful magical cherub.
i've been doing a lot of nice, regular tattoos,
on a lot of nice, regular folks.
(look close, i snuck in some pom-poms, b!tches)
and after i did the crossword puzzle in the newspaper,
i did a tribal boob name cover-up hot on the heels of this lovely lady...
just to keep it real, y'heard?
connie got connie's name after covering up j.t's initials.
and then i covered connie's connie with some black spikes.
it's not as complicated as you think, an' that.
it boils down to one simple phrase:
...Gimme Some Money...
that's a little north conway tattooer lingo-
any design, any time, whatever on whomever;
G.S.M., son.
we doo-doo that freakiness.
way past 10 on the power supply;
all the way to eleven.
hell, jess tattooed some extraneous moles on a just-eighteen year old's face, son.
what's really 'hood in the woods?
us, mutha-uckas. us.
i mean, just so all ya'll ninjas know,
real tattooers do real tattoos.
those fluffy sparkle-time wings paid my light bill.
the boob tribal paid for dinner.
and that's how straight-up street-style tatblasters get busy....
P.F.D's & G.S.M....
two (fraternal) twin mantras,
getting chanted at sub-sonic bowel-emptying low-end frequency,
sending shockwaves of rural folk-life flavor out into the world.
can you feel it?
never quiet, never soft...