While at Sam Ash music store (RIP), to pick up some sheet music with youngest Son, a worker there said something to me,
“Does that hurt?’
I looked down at my arm and held it as if to see if it did. I then remembered the tattoos there.
“No!”
“When you got them didn’t, they hurt you. On the bone I mean?”
I said no again…
“The first two needles felt like a halo came over me. It got hot. I felt anxiety for a few seconds. It did not hurt me.”
Then a weird look came over his face. He was about my age. A thin musician type.
“They say that tattoos are addicting. That the more you get the more you want to get them?”
I am not the addictive type. (Only with the band the Saints. Oh know, I typed their name. Now it looks like I will end this post with another Saint’s song.)
Then he asked me,
“You got more?”
“Yes a few here and there!”
“Ya see when my Mom and Dad died it helped me kill the emotional pain. It was a religious experience for me…it was therapy.”
“OK. nice talking with ya.”
The Sam Ash worker walked away. I proceeded to the sheet music section of the store.
