That’s something Klem used to say before starting a tattoo. It was a joke, of course; Klem’s a smart-alec. But the reason it’s funny is that tattoos hurt. So for those of us who’ve been tattooed a lot, it had a surreal character.

But that’s not the point. The thing isn’t how much tattoos hurt. The thing is, they don’t really hurt that much.

I had a long talk with Tricia about this while getting tattooed Thursday. The thing is, so many people live in fear of pain, and I simply don’t get it. They talk about being afraid of a tattoo. Of not being able to ever take that much pain again.

When did our culture develop this while horror of pain thing? Is this new? did it develop only when we started to be able to treat pain? When we developed aspirin and then tylenol and then NSAIDS that we can pop whenever we feel discomfort?

Or is this just something wired in?

It’s hard for me to believe it’s that innate. I mean, sure, we know pain means don’t do that but that’s very different from today’s attitude that pain is to be avoided at all cost.

And this isn’t to say I’m into pain. I’m not. I keep my bottle of ibuprophen handy. I will pop a pill when pain impedes my ability to do something.

But pain does not in any way scare me. Does that hurt people ask me of my tattoos. Over and over and over. of course it fucking hurts I used to say. It’s done with a fucking needle. But to mis-quote TE Lawrence from Lawrence of Arabia, The trick is not minding that it hurts.

Now, you have to understand that this conversation was carried on while I was getting tattooed on the inside of my upper arm. Not the worst place I’ve ever been tattooed, but certainly one of the more sensitive, particularly since Tricia did the head and tail last. Last is an issue because there’s a point in time where the endorphin high starts to taper off and you just get tired; so the pain and discomfort tolerance goes down. So those last bits were considerably more annoying than most of the piece.

But the thing is, it’s only really annoying most of the time. That’s how I’d describe tattooing, apart from the moments when I get into the right mind-set to ride the endorphin high and actually enjoy the intensity of sensation. Normal times, it’s just irritating.

Pain has so many different characters. Some pain is sharp, intense, some slow, some burning, some electric, some stinging, some throbbing. We don’t have enough words for pain in our language. We don’t have words for good pain, for positive pain, for loving pain. We don’t have words for the pain one feels with achievement, the athletic pain, the pain of fury.

Tattoo pain differs so much. The feeling of getting my fingers tattooed was pure irritation. I wanted to smack Klem when he did it. The pain of getting inked in my armpit is just unpleasant, a burning, ripping, electric sensation. BUt the feeling of the needle on the inside of my bicep could have been sexual, could have been erotic in a different setting.

People who understand the eroticism of pain — these are the people I feel a soul connection with. Masochists and sadists both, I understand them. Those who crave an intensity of sensation normal life does not provide. There is almost nothing more erotic than hearing someone say hurt me.

Click the Continue Reading link for a picture of the new tattoo. It’s a big image so it will load slowly.

Read more “…This may sting a bit…”

So tomorrow I go get the inside of my right arm tattooed. One of those spots I’ve long neglected.

When I started I didn’t have any plan to be sleeved; if I had, I would have done my whole arms as one piece each. I didn’t, so now am working around what’s there. My left arm is done, full, apart from a little space around the wrist and of course the hand. My right arm though, feels naked.

It’s funny, looking at old photos for my prior WDW trip I ran across this photo:

The thing that strikes me isn’t so much I had hair or Wow, no beard, but Oh my god, my arms look naked.

So my right arm may not look naked to most people now, but it feels pretty naked to me.

So tomorrow I start fixing that. I get a polynesian hammerhead design, sorta like this:

(Yeah I know, that’s tiny, I don’t wanna put it up large since it’s Tricia’s design and I don’t want it stolen)

The tail is going up near the armpit, the head in a the crook of the elbow. This should be fun. Pictures, of course, when it’s done.

And while we’re on tattoos, we can talk about my current tattoo obsession. Pirate tattoos.

The pirates thing isn’t a new development. Certainly not part of the recent huge resurgence in popularity pirates have had since the Pirates of the Caribbean film came out, though obviously that film can’t help but make us all wanna turn to piracy. But I was calling myself Calico Jack long before the movie came out, and have always loved the jolly roger. Pirates was always my favorite ride at Disneyland.

But just recently I’ve started to add pirate tattoos to my ‘to get’ list. The wenches one I’ve planned forever, Mary Reed and Anne Bonny, old Jack Rackham’s ladies. But I recently ran across a great banner of jolly roger images that would make a fabulous arm, leg or wrist band. That one won’t get outta my head. And I’ve also been seeing one based on this with a Dead Men Tell No Tales banner. I’m thinking all monochrome, and I’m thinking Jack Rudy might be the guy to do it, though that’s an open question.

There are others. A vague idea of a pirate ship, though I think I don’t have a good place for it, and some other jolly roger ideas. As usual, more ideas than skin, and then there’s the question of expense, so this will need to percolate a bit. But you know, one of these ideas is almost certain to wind up on me before long.