June 7, 2000
So, after a lengthy three hour tattooing session last weekend, I am now proud to be sporting something much cooler
Than what all those cocky guys in wife beaters have on their upper arms,
calves and shoulders.
Maybe it was all the Vicodin I downed to try and ease the needle’s sting,
But after the session was over, I sobbed like a damn fool.
I surrendered something there in that chair that was more than virgin flesh.
And it hurt like hell.
This tattoo has meant a lot to me.
I feel like I am at the crossroads of a lot of things in my life.
There’s a lot of figurative death and birth going on.
This was a spiritual, enabling thing... as well as a symbol
Of a lot of things I’m letting go of.
The bugger’s itching me up a storm,
But it’s beautiful.
And speaking of beauty,
Yesterday I went for the first time to buy real make-up
With Aaron’s mother and had a bit of a daunting revelation
Sitting victim in the chair of a Clinique booth.
Y’know, it’s no wonder women are always convinced they’re ugly.
There are so many little pieces of make-up for covering up every
Natural aspect about them, it’s a wonder we don’t roam the streets
At 2 a.m. like hideous beasts hiding the monstrosities
From the rest of the world. Seriously, everything is to hide this, cover that,
Emphasize what’s not striking enough, etc. and so forth.
It’s depressing.
In order to feel attractive, we’re supposed to virtually conceal ourselves.
Two weeks from now I will have graduated High School.
It’s disappointing like a rollercoaster: You wait in some long line
For hours on end and, the ride’s great, but it hardly lasts a minute.
I know I’ve changed and I’ve learned.
But my skin tells me the numbers lie,
That four years of my life did not just buzz by like lightning.
Ah well, onward and out.
My little journey takes some neat new turns pretty soon.
I’m anxious and curious... and terrified.
The way people group, organize is weird.
My senior class took a field trip a few days ago and on the bus
I had a sudden desire to lock the doors and not let the group
Disperse into the new lives we’ll head toward over the next
Few months. I wanted to force us all to remain a group.
It was a fleeting thing – I didn’t even like most of the people
On my bus anyhow – but it’s curious the way we cluster,
Separate, regroup... and sometimes end up rejoined to the
Same people over and over again.
Endings are the hardest. I romanticize everything.
I get so nostalgic it makes me sea sick.
But I have loved High School deeply,
The place and the memories have anchored themselves
To my poetic memory and,
Until age blunts and fades what I have,
I feel confident that I will treasure what I have had for many years to come.
Go Home
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Randy As Ever
You've Got Shaved Lovin' Written All Over Ya..
