associated in random thought

my back.

yesterday began as a typical day: work and work and work until seven o'clock. and then i drove. at eight, i had an appointment with carlos. carlos was going to ink into my back a new tattoo.

it all began last week when my long lost brother joe came to visit. we grew up in erie together, became best friends at fifteen, and we've walked each other through the joys and heartaches of high school and our twenties. we hadn't seen each other in four years.

we picked up where we left off last week, creating adventures out of the dailiness of life, and windowshopping at the best little places, one of which was tesoros downtown on congress. it was there that i saw the little platter with the lovebird. it was there that i found my new tattoo.

the lovebird holds in its mouth a ribbon binding together two hearts. surrounding it are a multitude of stars (two of which i already don on my shoulderblades).

and so i brought the platter to rock of ages tattoo parlor on south lamar, to see if they would do it. carlos sat behind the counter wearing a wool hat. covered in beautiful tattoos, he studied the platter from behind grandfather spectacles. he said he could do it. i put down a deposit, and he said he'd have the perfect stencil ready for me by last night.

helen held my hand as i sat hunkered over for three hours last night. my blue stars were a painful and exhilerating experience, but my bird? she was something like how i imagine childbirth to be. there were moments of lightheadedness, and we even had to take a break now and again, so that i wouldn't pass out. however, i found my zen place in carlos' story. he told us about his life as he worked.

carlos spent over a decade addicted to heroin. he told us about the trouble he got in out in hollywood, the gangster drug dealer named cat who took him in ("she killed four men", he told us matter-of-factly). though he repeatedly stole money and drugs from her, she took care of him. and his mother, worrying in texas, found him there by phone. brought him home by bus. he overdosed on the way, in el paso, but was revived by ems at the bus station. they put him back on the greyhound.

carlos told us of wanting nothing more than for his life to be over. he overdosed again and again, and was brought back again and again. six failed rehab attempts. a withdrawal coma. a two year stint in prison, four months of which were spent in solitary confinement. and somehow, in all this chaos, he found (was given?) the tools to resurrect himself. when he was freed from prison three years ago, carlos stayed clean. he shed his old life and dedicated his life to his art. now he is a smiler, and very serious about his work. he's got a girlfriend of a year. and he's planning to propose on el dia de los muertos.

all this he told as he created a masterpiece on my back. his story is written on my body, and i get to keep it forever. we hugged tightly when it was all over.