I’ve totaled it up: Starting with my first tattoo, in October of 2008, I’ve had about 27 hours worth of work. This doesn’t include preparation or set-up time. That’s literally over a full day of needles pushing ink into my skin. While I’m in no way as heavily tattooed as some of the people I meet who work in the tattoo shops, I do think I’ve had much more experience with it than the average person. And the strange thing about it is I don’t particularly enjoy it.

Hey, it's my ink!

I’m not saying I don’t like having tattoos. I love having them and I crave more. But unlike many people who are “into tattoos” I don’t enjoy the act of being tattooed. I’ve talked with people who like being tattooed because of the endorphin rush they receive. That doesn’t happen for me. My body gives me no pleasure when I’m tattooed; I just have to endure the pain. And while that’s kind of fun in its own way, when a needle is working dangerously close to my armpit, or near a particularly sensitive area around my collarbone, I really wish my brain would just get it together and produce some of those sweet natural drugs.

Most often when I’m being tattooed I listen to music or read a book. This helps distract my mind from the pain. But some areas are just too bothersome and I have to stop what I’m doing and just brace myself. This is fine, but it often leaves me worn out. I wish I got the same physical rush from tattoos that I enjoy after receiving a new piercing, but I don’t. Piercings only take a second and the rush lasts for hours. But conversely, tattoos take hours and the rush is nonexistent. What a rip-off!

It’s gotten to the point where I no longer look forward to getting tattooed. Well, I do and I don’t. Like I said, I love having them, but the process itself is getting tiring. Sitting in a chair while a needle repeatedly jabs me has started to feel like routine. So why do I keep doing it? Simple: Because they look sweet, baby.

Sure, there’s the whole “look what I’ve endured” aspect of tattoos. But really, I’m more into the art. So far all my tattoos either reference literature I love or are taken directly from it. Most of them relate to the work of Robert E. Howard or H.P. Lovecraft. But who knows what’s next? Shall I get Falstaff on my neck? Or maybe Montana Wildhack across my forehead? What about Horton the Elephant on my chest (from the story “Horton Hatches the Nipple”)? Anything’s possible!

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