Crash Na

About me:

A feeling from under my chin to the lowest part of my rib cage builds. You can't see it in me while I'm doing my laundry, but it's there, getting stronger and stronger. It's passion with no agenda and it's difficult to give my attention. Life is difficult to consciously experience and almost unbearable when it's this intense. I don't enjoy this feeling, and it's absence is equally displeasing... I crave it's abandonment. It's in my throat and rising up the back of my neck. Relief comes when my attention to life is provoked. I'm relieved during that song... when I dance for you... when we jump off the cliff, when I make art. Oh, when I tattoo, all everything from hopes to resentment surge through my hand, as if it was the spout and the rest of me, the pitcher. The sumi I've just laid in the depths of her flesh has more energy than con edison could every provide. All of consciousness for those moments is condensed and experienced within a few square inches at the end of my needle.
Without this outlet, without this glass in which to pour... I'd be the blackest hole, Exploding inward, destroying myself and all who come into my space.
I may do more than 1 tattoo in a day but to those who sit in my chair, they may never experience this again. I keep this in mind every time I pull a line. You have made the decision to change your body and everyone’s opinion of you for the rest of your life and I am the catalyst. What did you do today; I’ve changed someone’s life.