X.

this is it.
a low-point/high water mark.
i can probably stop now.
i made it this far,
stuck it out in the faraway north,
and i've finally hit double digits.
ten years.
ten ferocious, atrocious, freaky-diki years.
ten caustic, cacophonous, combustible years.
ten looong, hard, loud years.
a decade.
...of tattooing.
holy F*n' sh!t, my ninjas.
ten. long. years. in. a. row.
3,653 days, including leap years.
that's a lot.
i guess time grinds it's path toward the big finish line
whether you're paying attention or not.
this one kind of snuck up on me all stealth-panther-cat an' that.
ten years?!
TEN years?
that's on that 'grosse point blank'-type hard-style action.
i've got to grudgingly give it up;
tatty zappin' has been kind to me.
despite my very best A-level efforts at proper gift-horsing around,
despite living in the unsophisticated rustic redneck reality
of the woodsly goodness,
despite all of the mumbles, rumbles, and grumbles,
the secret universal plan keeps my tatblastin' action up and at 'em.
i'll admit i'm a little sore about it.
literally and figuratively, even.
my hands, neck, back, and wrists are slowly crumbling back to their basic elements.
that's erosion, ya'll.
i guess i'm grateful that all my original parts are still somewhat intact,
after all, even the mightiest monuments wear away.
so here i am, again.
another turn of the wrench,
another 'nother tighter timespan ghost circle smoke ring.
i'd love to shout it out loud from the rooftops,
y'know,
'this big action barbarian business goes to eleven!!!,
but of course,
literally and figuratively,
it only goes to ten.
awwwwww, man;
never quiet, never soft.....