The wound in my hand wasn’t as bad as all that; the following morning the pain was gone entirely, leaving behind only a vague tenderness. More interesting, though, was the leathery texture my skin has now. It’s like it’s someone else’s hand, when I feel it against my skin. The ridges and whorls are burned entirely away in a few places, leaving only the exact imprint of the pan’s handle on my palm and fingers.
The only discomfort, amusingly, is when I put on my one my skull rings on my left middle finger.
In any case, marks lead to marks; I’ve been thinking about tattoos.
I think it’s time I got back to work on long-shelved tattoo projects. With things at work getting back within the range of ‘normal’ at work, my mind’s had a small amount of space to wander.
I called a local shop today, and sometime in the next three or four days I need to visit to pay a deposit and arrange a start date. I’m planning to finish my half-naked right arm.
It just feels like time. And the other things I’m obsessing over are harder, both financially and logistically, to manage just now. Yesterday I started to fantasize about boats and diving and tropical breezes, and spent a few minutes looking at trips to cozumel or la paz or some such lower-cost diving destination; though in truth the windows I have for travel this year are small, and, well, we all know what finances are starting to look like in the next weeks or months, for most of us.
It’s not a surprise I’m a creature driven by desire; one of the things that tells me how hard I’ve been working, how buried I’ve been, is that my mind starts to re-direct the energy of avaricious thoughts into basic survival. I stop thinking about who and what and where I want, and think about how to get through a day without losing more ground.
It’s clear that I feel better, despite (or even because of) a little pain and a visually striking injury. It’s clear because I’m now looking at motorcycles, thinking, how can I swing a new bike; I’m planning tattoos, trips to warm, sunny beaches, and fantasizing about who-and-what I’d be doing in any given scenario.
I feel like me when the low, simmering desire begins to come back. So that must be a good thing.
Remind me, though, not to shop for any new motorcycles. At least not this week.