worrrrrrrrrrrking!
yep.
i do a lot of that.
the first one in, and the last one out.
pretty much every day, i'm diversifying my skill-base,
and becoming a much more versatile,
albeit largely unrewarded,
artistic adventurer.
hmmm?
i'm traveling to the city limits of known frontiers with my needles and ink.
like,
i'm almost positive there are maps that clearly document
this pokey path i'm trekking along.
i think that the geometry and prose and roses,
and watered-down waterbaby watercoloresque opaque ink action
have all been charted and fenced in by borders that don't need to be re-crossed...
and yet,
every day,
i'm steadily ensuring that no new ground is broken,
and that the firmly-established standards for boring white people with money to burn
remain solid,
i'm like a fence-inspector at the crowd-control safety barriers, almost.
y'know?
no?
oh.
i travel along the limits of pre-existing pinterested checkpoints,
and i shore up the walls of what has already happened with a big ol' booster shot
of more of the same, just to guarantee we don't overstep the agreed-upon limit
of imaginationlessness.
does that sound sad?
i dunno, duders.
i think i'm not as bad off as i would be if i was traveling the high-concept high-road.
after all,
'rewarding' is an individually defined concept, is it not?.
is it better to be a pioneer or a settler?
an explorer or an emperor?
a specialist or a jack-of-all-trades;
or better yet,
a jack-off who's traded art-making for money-making,
grinding away at those movie checks?
awwwww.
c'mon.
stop it.
that's not as awful as it sounds,
and yet,
it's not much better, either-
sure,
i get paid to make marky-marks on people, which i s'pose is sort of neat-o...
..if sunflower outlines and too many words are your thing,
every day is a garden-party in eden.
but,
i'm also being compensated for wiping off their bloody serum,
that's potentially hazardous human F*ing juice, kids!
and for listening to their fidgety complaints;
and for smelling their filthy feet and cigarette breath;
and for hearing lauds and laments about their kids and their pets......
ugh.
liniments and lubricants and
neighbors,
i just want to tell jokes and stories and have a good time-
even when i'm spanning extra hours before and after the established schedule of operation,
doing absolutely opposite ends of the stylistic spectrum of tattoo artistry
from the far reaches of advanced internet image searches.
what?
oh.
well, when it comes to doo-dooing doo-doo buttery tattoos,
i don't really have a personal specialty anymore.
there's no call it.
i just do tattoos.
and i do a whole lot of them,
whatever on whoever.
in fact,
whenever i'm at the zapshack,
i'm zippin' away on some sort of anonymous something or other.
the only truly negative side-effect of that sort of willingness to just do work?
my brain is not being challenged all that often.
i mean,
i don't have to think too hard,
and even all the cover-ups and mathematical mandalas
aren't occupying enough of my thought processes.
that leaves me with an excess of neurological electricity to exhaust and expend
through loud noises and lightning-striking laser-fast monologues....
i talk myself silly, and i crack myself up,
and i berate and lambaste and blast bunches and batches of underqualified listeners.
on the rare occasion that a great idea comes in,
and somehow, through some sort of scheduling snafu,
i'm the one doing it,
i do it as hard as i can, and i really bring the thunder and the noise,
and even the mutha-'ucking ruckus.
also,
when a terrible idea comes in,
and i'm OBviously the one doing it,
i bring the fire and explosions all the same.
there aren't really any lousy jobs,
just spoiled, lazy, entitled, lousy babies who assume they're too good to do 'em.
***********
just do your job.
that's all.
it's not a crazy request, it isn't an outrageous concept,
it's what you're there for.
i'm working all the time.
i'm certainly no hero for doing what i do.
in fact,
i'd say i'm probably achieving maximum neutrality on the hero scale.
i'm just telling a true story,
one about labor, loss, and gains.
there's lost love, and then there's no love lost,
and most of all,
there's sweet flippin' moolah.
money is time.
and the only way to gain one is to earn and spend the other.
that's just the thing;
never quiet, never soft.....
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