sweet sixteen.

oh, MAN!
yesterday marked sixteen years of tattooing for your favorite Folk Life
warrior poet from the woodsly goodness.
sixteen years of tough times and hard styles;
hemoglobin-drippin' pigment-zippin' glove-rippin' skin-strippin';
and sixteen years of bleak outlooks and baller-A* movie checks.
kaboom.
the thing is,
i forgot until i was halfway through the day,
and someone asked me how long i'd been tattooing.
(which is one of the top five questions asked by clients across the board)
and that's when i realized yesterday was the day.
....big deal.
everything good, and everything bad, and some of the in-betweens, too,
all have been made accessible and attainable and appreciable
and aggravatingly actionably aquisitionable from this one long-ago
direct career pathogen pathway.
damn.
it all intersects and overlaps and conjoins in interconnected concentric circles of
spirit and memory, and all of it has and will continue to really happen
all because i started the spiraling echoes of infinite nature when i took up
tattooing back in the F*ing nineties.
a sweet sixteen of tatty-o'zaps,
and nobody noticed, knew, or cared.
holy sh!t.
i still think that sort of diabolical domino effect calls for some sort of celebration,
with or without it being a big ol' something,
and even though i didn't recall at all immediately either,
don't you?
that's right neighbors.
it's not an anniversary without some sort of treat;
and treats are what you all already know i've got-
for you, and for me, and for tattooing, and all of that.
a Perfect Fall Day.
an october rusty afternoon.
a celebratory slice of something sweet.
and pumpkin.
because rules is rules.
tell you what,
let's just check the teleport:

yeah!!!!!
a perfecta trifecta of taste and texture in full effect!
guys,
there's oatmeal-graham cookie crumb fadeaway cinnamon crunch crust
that melts itself way up into the cake,
for a serious transition from smooth to crawnchy.
expert.
and the cake?
well,
it's brown sugary and double-vanilla, with creamchee' and soy yogurt for softness,
in a smooth, rich, weighty and rewarding coffeecake-style crossgrain crumb scenario.
expert.
but,
it gets all orangey-brown and smooth lookin'  on top, doesn't it?
you're gosh-damned right it does.
that's that pumpkin creme pie style squishy-boot-knockin' toppin',
one hundred percent wu-TANG, but only thirty percent for the children.
uh-huh.
that's grown man business for your faces,
and it's so good,
especially the way it gives over to cake in under an inch of blops.
expert.
what?
huh?
ohhhh!
yeah,
that's supercreme frosting, with the autumnal orange tint to it,
and those are situationally-appropriate sprankles, too.
i mean,
i couldn't just leave it alone, could i?
c'mon.
i'm no slouchy sodawatery diaperbaby.
don't be dumb.
i wanted us to have an awesomely tall, awesomely tasty, awesomely octoberish treat.
lucky for me,
i had it handy for my sweet sixteen.
cultivated coincidences are good for you, y'know?
like,
if i always have treats,
then i am always ready to celebrate.
i didn't feel all that great about tattooing, being a tattooer,
or the unwavering downward trajectory of my chosen professional path,
despite the upswing of epic excellence in all other areas
where personal growth and progress can be measured.
ha.
getting better at things is definitely good,
even when the spotlight goes dark,
and you're just some dude eating cake in the woods.
that's real.
i'm grateful for the time i have been given,
and the all-out fallout that has followed me since i first zipped my first zap.
in sixteen more years,
we'll see where we're at, i suppose;
never quiet, never soft.....