Scar Tissue

I got a new tattoo last night. Just like that. Drove down with Dave, picked the font I wanted, and had a sharp needle slice my skin and fill it with black ink. I knew I had to do something drastic, had to mark this weeks Neun. Chase away all of the dark that has been calling me lately ... with a pain of MY choosing. So I did.



It hurt like a bitch. Sweet sweet pain that I strangely got off on. Tough and raw and hardcore. "See!" I said to Dave. "We still got it! We're not boring!" He laughed. Then asked me again why I chose to get "Know Thyself." He didn't understand, thought it was pretty stupid. When I was telling the tattooist where to stick the stencil, I moved it from his symmetrical position, and stuck it on my wrist, at an angle. He and Dave stared. I wanted to cover the stupid scars that were there, from that terrible night in my early twenties. Everyone tries to kill themselves and then go to work the next day like nothing happened, surely?

"Umm, I want to cover the scars." Nobody said anything and my face went hot. Then he started it. Halfway through the K, I realised this was REALLY going to hurt, wondered if I could just get KNOW done. Dave kept making small talk with the guy. I didn't want him too, wanted him to just concentrate. At one point, Dave goes, "So, can you push the needle in so far that it bursts a vein?" I turned my neck angrily, said maybe he could ask that question AFTER my tattoo is done, yeah? He didn't get it. Yabbering away, he wants this sleeve and that ... at one point, he engaged the guy in such a way that he stopped tattooing me for a while. I just wanted it to be over. He had done KNOW THYS.

I almost shouted "HON. For fucks sake, let him do the ELF. LET HIM DO THE FUCKING ELF."



We then went out to dinner, and actually talked to each other. About things, and where we are going and where we have been. He told me he thinks my new tatt is amazing, and he really understands it now. On the drive home, we listened to Chilli Peppers sing Scar Tissue, and it was so fucking appropriate on so many levels that I almost cried. But Dave kept talking so I couldn't dive into the moment properly and I laughed and told him I loved him so much right now. I really do.


I love it. It's perfect. I was telling my brother about it, and he asked me if I 'd got the idea from the Matrix - the Oracle has it above her door, which I'd forgotten all about.

This is why I had it done .. feels like I need huge reminding of it, lately. That, and I like the symbolism of those two words covering my scar.

"The saying "Know thyself" may refer by extension to the ideal of understanding human behavior, morals, and thought, because ultimately to understand oneself is to understand other humans as well. However, the ancient Greek philosophers thought that no man can ever comprehend the human spirit and thought thoroughly, so it would have been almost inconceivable to know oneself fully. Therefore, the saying may refer to a less ambitious ideal, such as knowing one's own habits, morals, temperament, ability to control anger, and other aspects of human behavior that we struggle with on a daily basis. To truly 'know oneself' in this sense involves a deeply personal, spiritual transformation whereby a person would seek to orient themselves towards understanding their own phenomenological perceptions of reality, so as to gain earnest insight into aspects of one's own existence."

This last photo is symbolic of the fact that I am the biggest wanker ever.

I take so many photos of myself in stupid poses, it drives Tim and Dave NUTS. The camera is full of them. I do it in front of them, act all ghetto and pouty. Why? WHY? They scream at me.

"Because nobody ever takes photos of me, so I have to take them myself." They groaned. "Actually, you're going to have to use one of these self-snapped photos at my funeral."

Dave told me he will get a really wanky one enlarged, prop it up on my coffin for people to cry over.

That man is so thoughtful.