they get harder.
they're like two-part epoxy in that.
so,
when it was time to terrorize matt's chest,
we made sure to take his drawings and my tattooing,
and mix them together in a modified hodge-podge hegemony
of lightning-striking comicbook ghost-face barbarianism.
mmmhmmm.
ten years of punishing this guy with hot lasers of pain,
and he still keeps coming up to get his lumps.
ouch.
anyway,
sometimes i use a tight three needle grouping for extra bikery norse details.
check the teleport:
so many lines.
too many lines.
the right amount of lines.
unless you're his xiphoid.
then that up there is waaaaaaay the wrong way to put hair on your chest.
yikes.
-
so,
we spanned a whole lot of time together, he and i,
and all of that is what took up a big ol' bunch of yesterday.
y'know?
so much for labor day.
and yet, labor was what i seem to find myself doing a lot of all the time,
and labor is probably what he felt like he was in.
the thing is-
labor day is always just another workday.
sorta like every other three-day holiday since forever ago.
no breaks for me since the nineties with that sh!t, neighbors...
fifteen years of labor days at work?
yeah.
that's a thing
*
duders,
it's been one heck of a summer.
nonstop hustlin' and grinding.
six-day work week steady hard-style pounding away at that flesh.
so gross.
and now?
now,
it's also time for chimney sweepin' and firewood stackin',
and before too long, fairs and apples and pumpkins, as well.
the little window into new englandy hottness is open just a crack,
and i'm peering into it.
it looks good to me.
i s'pose we'll see about that;
never quiet, never soft.....
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