Get fucked

Let's begin by agreeing that there are certain inherent differences between you, and I. Having met me or not, let's use this as a springboard, ok. 
I don't know when neck and hand tattoos became all the rage, and even if you have your neck and hands tattooed, you are not my Kin. If you have a beard, you are not my
Kin, if you have scars and hate society, you are not my kin. If you have killed a man or shit on ones face , you are not my kin. 
I have spent a good portion of my life attempting to separate from society, but that is moot now. Because any 21year old prick with a neck tattoo thinks he can come up and chat,be my bro, my equal, my partner ,my pal,...
You are not my pal, you are a piece of shit . You are a person that I deem less worthy. You are someone to be shat on, smeared in, kick to pulp and left alone in a pile of feces ,vomit ,blood, and urine to cry for your mother.
On y second grade report card, being seven years old, I received an A in every class and there was a single note written at the bottom of the page
"is intolerant of those he deems less worthy" my teacher knew it then, too bad it took everyone else this long to pick up on it. I do not like you, I am not your kin. I wouldn't waste my precious bodily fluids to piss on you, so, fuck yourself, fuck your mother, fuck your dog, and get hit by a car fucking your dog.
You and I are not alike, so don't approach me when you get a glimpse, my tattoos,scars, and beard are meant as shelter, so I can be at home in my body, they are not an invitation, the way yours are. I am a misanthrope, look it up, and cross the street next time you see me coming. I have hate in my heart and it is for you

The first day.....

Today my little belly monster turned one , he is wise beyond his year, and I am certain that in this time he has taught me exponentially more than I have him.my little man man, my belly monster,llewellyn, ellyn, beebah, the baby man has been my strength, my inspiration, and most of all my family. I find in him and my lady the strength that only comes with numbers, this number, the magic number being three. And while we hope for this number to grow,(in the near future) , for the time being we may be small ,but we are strong.As I am not a mathematician, they tell me that our very existence is nothing more than a matter of numbers, I have faith in my numbers, I will plant them as a farmer does seed, and watch them grow , as he has, as I have, as we have. So on this day the fourteenth of June I will celebrate with anyone that wishes to raise a glass, tip a hat, or sing along. Today we sing for my son.

of birth and earth

my little ‘mostly’ belly monster will be turning one in the years category this coming tuesday the 14th of june in the year of your lord “sure as hell not mine” 2011, thats right, 11, turning one add them smackers up, and you get three, whats three.

the magic making mother nukking number. three, thats what we have, thats what we’ll celebrate, and the little man will be none the wiser, because for our little beaster everyday is celebratory time, whether its in the backyard with the hose, in the pool, riding on his little trike being pushed by one of the parental units, or simply puppy wrastling on the couch, thats right i typed wrastling, its like wrestling for wranglers, and thats what my little do bot is, a wrastling wrangler of puppies far and wide.

believe you me, hell take down any pup in a five mile radius in under 5 flat , or my name isnt dodo brown , the man with the money down.

thats actually not my name, so im not sure if any of that makes sense.

the point,

there really doesnt need to be one, this is web world, and there aint no writing like he kind that comes out of your ass here in cyber laced interspace.

anyway, im saying, my son will turn one of the years old, it has flashed past, hes a walking talking booby sucking, ta ta grabbing mass memory machine.

and if there was a point, it would have been that even though the celebration for the day of his birth might involve a few people, and possibly some present tearing time, i swear that my little man made from the vitamin of d will have everyday be a birthday, as he has , so he will.

i celebrate everyday of life that little man has, and will continue to celebrate every day of life that he brings me,

there is youth in youth, if youre searching for the fountain, fuck that piece of shit movie, have a child, theyll keep you young forever, learning everyday, and give you reason to celebrate with every ounce of that cold dead heart you thought inhabited your chest.

they bring the blood back, they make it pump, and not only is my little man my heart now, he is my life.

so i tip my hat to the kind sir that has brought me yet another day of smiles and summer.

i love you

my inspiration for the day is the copy and paste from yesterday, and the embrace that comes with tomorrow

grumbles..tales from the belly monster

life, love, and the pursuit of happiness are all in order, or at least im leading myself to believe so. its difficult to juggle so many mee's. two years ago, i was that dude, you know the one with the beard that gay dudes thought was such a bear, and chicks thought had a musk, not a bad thing, just a thing. then i went from just being some little nowhere tattoo artist to the tattoo artist with a partner, you know, some other other type romance.
promises of marriage and babies, home on the range, separation of state, self sufficient living. now, follow me here, the first dude was pretty much all bad, he was hairy, used the word cunt alot, and usually slapped ass in the grocery store to try to pick up women. the second dude was all googly eyed and hopped up on that new piece. now its a few years later, and ive got a little dude i call the belly monster, so im on some "daddy's home " type jam. this is the dude that has worries,food on the table type worries, five year plan type worries, keeping the peace type worries. not lose your job because you tell people to 'keep it black" type worries.
this dude drives home real fast to give kisses and huggles, and loves when a baby decides to bungee jump off the bed with only his beard in hand.
im just wondering where i stuffed the other dudes, cause as of late the words"black hole of a cunt with a big fucking mouth" have come out of my mouth. now im not saying i have any regrets here, im just saying that my context, or perhaps my perspective has changed. two years ago, i would have said that shit cause was calling someone out on some superficial type jawn, now im saying it cause im calling some chick out on some real type jawn. two years ago, i couldnt care less about my general happiness, or what people had to say about me, now,i have considerations, i have a bottom line, and that bottom line is my family. i mean, you can go on and on about who or what i am, and most of it is usually true, .hell ive had my days, even years in which i wouldnt object to much of what anyone had to say about me. but now im in a situation where i have to think about a little dude that smiles and cries and knocks his head, and gives me zombie kisses.
and at this point in my life, when youre saying something about me, in turn youre saying something about my child, yeah, the beebah, the belly monster, the love of my life ( who is completely equal but different than the other love of my life,my mrs, my lady, my partner, my'"i should be cuddling her instead of typing this")

so perhaps it is perspective, perhaps the years have given me some new definition of what offends me, perhaps i have finally allowed my self to be offended, im really not sure.maybe i now deem myself a being worthy of defense. im not really making too much sense here, and im typing with an urgency because i must find the little mans nail clippers before i hit the big bed. but either way, the only conclusion ive found these days is that im quite ,able, willing and well warranted when i tell someone to go fuck themselves, it is a rare occurrence, and i suppose it took a few incarnations to get to that point, but thats what makes it so important when i do say it.
so , with enough blathering , i will give you a big fuck you , know that it comes form a black heart that holds only a little bit of life and love ,which it extends to my two life loves, the would be mrs, and the beebah.

my inspiration for the day is running out of prilosec, and knowing that no matter what i have to say, i have someone waiting in the afformentioned big bed that will back me up, right or wrong, i am part of a collective, the cosmos has cried'one of us' and i have answered,
so leave my little cosmos alone, the ph is balanced, the fortress is solid, and were making additions every day, si i really dont need your negative shit.
as a complete aside, check out this pretty little bird at the top of the page, his name is nicky tweets, he enjoys hiking, peeing through windows late at night, and tearing the heads off of small woodland creatures.

bobot eyes

people talk of paying attention to the little things, or how its the little things in life that matter.
as my lady mentioned in her blog, everything is a first to the belly monster.
and its true, so i thought id just take a second to really thank the little man for re-introducing me to those things, and giving me the chance to really appreciate all that is itty bitty, the way that he might .
i feel an odd sense of selfishness (having an opportunity to live as a child,a three month old baby is giving something to me that in thirty three years my parents never could) if that makes any sense, i just hope that i give to him even even a fraction of what he has given to me. i have never seen turtles the way i did that day.....
i have butterflies just thinking about tomorrow , and what we might discover, what he might teach me.
babies have robot eyes, i imagine those big round beauties just scanning every dimension of our little cosmos, absorbing,filing, control alt delete, and repeat.
i dont know if he has a system down yet, but his jawns are in order. the dome has come equipped with all the latest womb approved technology. little does he know now that by the time he hits thirty, hell need an external storage unit for all those 1's and 0's he picked up, thats where i come in.
and explain to him that my answer to this issue, was his mother she is my external hard drive,
so now, with her help, and some sort of cosmic ,karma, i might actually have the opportunity to recall each and every one of these memories of turtles.
my inspiration for today is the mrs to my immediate right, (that puts up with me doing this night after night, scooping her leftover rice, asking me if id want some,) and the fact that she cares enough to think that i might possibly want some

of time and wax

with as hectic as my life has been in the days of late, ive taken to my dear friend photography for a bit of conversation. i write about my child, the belly monster, my mrs, sugar, and the general state of affairs in my little cosmos. but its what i dont write that is the mass of my being.
its all been peachy.
i can bitch about the mighty dollar, and how mine are rather weak. ive always said i have deep pockets and short arms.
the general state of affairs has me in a whirlwind of love and kindness,whole hearts,and happy minds, i must say though, limited to he confines of my family. the rest of the state takes me dry and deep. yes, i take refuge in my work, and the rare acquaintance, but they are brief.
usually i type of some other other type shit, and a general mumble of the day to express the respect and gratitude i find in my partner and child, i am thankful for what i have been given, and i promise myself daily that i will remain an active participant, for i have created something larger than myself ,for which i now am responsible.
during this conversation with photography, i must say the fellow went for a gut shot.
i took to chronological order with the backlog, and came across what you see below.
five days after the birth of my son, he was admitted to dell childrens hospital. by my own admission, one of the most overwhelming trials of my life.

crying alone in an elevator ,having three floors to compose yourself, when youre going to get snacks, can be a rather humbling experience.
i took care in editing this photo, to make sure that most every time i view it, i will remember that elevator. i lived a lifetime in the illumination of each numbered button, bringing me closer and closer to the present tense, waiting in the east wing, in a plastic box, filled with tears and hope to only be held.
the days pass, without question. some slow, others just blinks.
that day will remain suspended in time, with the touch of every elevator button, the ring of every floor, the weight of a plastic bag in my hand, the scent of filtered oxygen,faux wood paneling,fresh wax,vitamin water,tooth brushes, and every tear that might roll down my cheek.

those three floors told me of the future,my resolve as a father and lover,and the insignificance of time
this so happens to be the image that accompanies them.
i would say to take from it what you will, but to be honest.... there is nothing to take.
be well,
my inspiration for today is photoshop, and gramatical errors due to rushing to bed

my day

new machine, i sent out last week to my dear friend steven huie , out of fly-rite in brooklyn , NY. i found it to be a great compliment that one of the greatest influences on me as a fledgling tattooist has bought a machine i built. i dont often stroke myself (well my ego at least), but ive got to say, i felt damned accomplished the day he ordered a machine from me.
so here it is,
it is the "J" machine in the paul rogers tribute series that i am working on (they are A through Z).
if you have any interest in ordering one, or might know a friend with some interest in a machine built by a misanthrope with hate in his heart, hey send me a message. they run for the same price that paul sold them for, so that should say alot given the change in the economy from when he was selling them in the eighties.
but yeah, im proud of the machines i build, i dont use any mass produced shit, my main tools are a dremel,a screwdriver, and a lot of love.
the love really tends to get things running smooth.
that is a rather nice segway into the usual mush i put here about my life, my love, and my general pursuit of happiness.
it would be redundant to create another entry about the fabulous woman that is my partner, and the righteous belly monster that is my child, but hey, it works for advertising. so ill send it home once more.
mrs, you are my heart,my salt, and my every ounce of joy, for you, i will not move my arm(if you know what that means, you really know of love)
belly monster, you are the googling,gurgling, grimey little ball of smiles and spit, around which i orbit, you are my sun. without your warmth and light i would simply return to ash.
if you follow me here with any regularity, or are the occasional passer by, know that i write these things not only for my partner, my child, and my peace of mind, but i write them equally so for you,
so that you may one day be able to recognize the love that i know , as your own.
it is there, in the cosmos,
for me, it is sitting in a chair with a puppy in its lap, telling me about how tired she is, and that is why my words will end.
my inspiration for the day is that i have found patience in a woman, and a toothache that is not my won