The DNC Makes Me Cry

I'm not sure why, but I have a habit of crying during speeches at the Democratic National Convention. I remember crying during the 1992 DNC because I thought, "Holy shit, we actually have a chance this year!" That year, listening to Aretha Franklin sing the National Anthem also brought me to tears, which I kind of think should happen to everyone when she sings the National Anthem - but it's possible that I've shed tears every four years since then as well.

I don't recall crying at the 1996 or 2000 conventions specifically (although I distinctly remember crying when the stupid effing Supreme Court handed a victory to our current lame-ass excuse for a president), but I do remember in 2004 watching a skinny black guy who I'd never heard of before in my life give what I thought was one of the best speeches I'd ever heard - a speech I still remember parts of to this day. It was a speech that made me cry. And as I cried, I thought, "If I live to see a black president, it's gonna be this guy. Now what was his name again?"

His name, of course, was Barack Obama. And I cried my eyes out this week watching the convention in Denver. And while I may not have a "valid excuse" for crying in the past (not that I feel I need one, mind you), I know at least one of the reasons I was so emotional this week - I'm watching history.

I've always been proud to be a Democrat, and a Liberal Democrat at that. My parents raised me to care about other people, particularly those with less than I have, and to think that our government has a responsibility to make sure everyone has an equal opportunity to make the most of their lives. If you squander your opportunities, that's your business - but if you have no opportunities, that shouldn't be your fault. Even when that's not a popular opinion, I've always been proud to carry that worldview in my heart.

But I've never been prouder to be a Democrat than this year.

This year, my party had as its two finalists in the primaries not one but two historic candidates. And this year, my party nominated the first African-American on a major party ticket. The Rs may crow about their VP nomination this year, but let's not forget Geraldine Ferraro in 1984. The bottom line is this - you can't tell me the Democrats aren't the party of change.

So, as Obama implied last night during his amazing acceptance speech, I say bring it on, November. There's a change-making army coming your way, whether you like it or not.

The Tattoo & The Photo

My tattoo has healed nicely; the itching stopped, and it's not the least bit sore anymore. In fact, I don't even notice it now. Here, you can see how well it's healed for yourself:


That's the tattoo on the left, & the original photo on the right. Just in case you were confused. I can understand why you would be, & all, because the tattoo is so damned realistic...

And now that I've gotten my second tattoo, 11 years after my first one, I'm seriously anxious to get my third. It's like a need now - and although my appointment is in November, Jerry said he might be able to get me in before that if he gets another cancellation. No offense to the people who might chicken out & cancel their tattoo appointments, but I'm really hoping someone gets cold feet soon.

After 36+ years with nothing on my back, now having the one portrait there makes me feel like it's unfinished until I get the next one... Weird, I know. But there you are.

November Came Early This Year

Remember in the last post when I said I had a tattoo consult coming up? It went fine, but the earliest appointments that were available weren't until November. I made my appointments, and promptly stopped thinking about tattoos.

Well, not three days after I'd had my consultation with Jerry, my tattoo artist at the very fine Atlas Tattoo, he called me to say, "Hey, I have a cancellation tomorrow - you want it?" My answer:

HELL YEAH!

So, last Saturday I spent just over three hours lying on my stomach with my neck twisted painfully to the left as a bearded man drove three different sets of needles into my left shoulder blade at high speed and repeatedly. In other words, I got my second tattoo.

It's still healing - we're past the "wash three times daily & apply ointment" phase and have now moved into the "apply lotion 3-5 times daily" phase. I think that phase lasts a week. The tattoo has started to peel a bit as of today, but that's normal. And the most important thing is this - it looks fucking amazing.

I'd seen portraits done on those TLC tattoo shows, and always been amazed by the skill that it must take to render a perfect copy of a portrait in ink on skin. And after looking at Jerry's portfolio, I knew he'd be able to do it. But there's nothing that can prepare you for the moment when you look in the mirror and see a perfect copy of a photograph you've know and loved your whole life on your skin. It's trippy, people. Seriously trippy.

Jerry said that it's likely he'll have another cancellation before my next scheduled November appointment, so I may be able to get that one a little earlier as well. We'll see. Until then, I'm dealing with a near-constant kink in my neck because I keep straining to see the tattoo in the mirror.

The picture above is from Sunday morning, when the tattoo was first unbandaged and still quite red & a little puffy. I'll have Chris take another picture when it's healed more so you can see the detail better. Until then, you have my permission to be amazed anyway.