last night Boy and i trekked back to pasadena to get some work done on his sleeve. the plan was to go and check out Miyagi's ideas, compiled from the 6876565 pages of images we downloaded and printed from the worldwideweb, and then possibly get started. of course his ideas were pretty excellent, and he was friendly and not at all put off by my loudness and whole lotta crazy (example: i explained "where the wild things are" to him. the whole book. *pause* because i know the characters' names. and i was using them. to explain a children's book. in detail. to an ex-gang member tattoo artist.)
and then they decided to get started. my presence wasn't really required for the shaving and the outlining (which was done freehand with a sharpie. no template! so cool!). so i left and bought yarn. i have projects, see? i spent an hour and a half in the yarn store debating the merits of size 8 or 9 circular knitting needles. and then buying both. and a size k crochet hook, because mine has gone missing. and yarn.
one hundred dollars worth of yarn.
more on that to come.
when i returned, they were well into the actual tattooing, and holycrap it looked good. Miyagi = good choice. i think he should definately be the one to cover my tattoo, hereafter reffered to as TheUglyThing. the color was very nifty, what with the fading and highlights and the humminah humminah humminah... sorry. anyways, because i am weird and get very excited about crazy things like metallic sharpies (overrated), postits (ooooh colors!) and grapples (grape flavored apples! amazing!), and also because Boy had a needle in his arm and couldn't really escape, i gave a little presentation of The Wonder of Yarn. like so:
me: do you want to see the yarn i bought?so then i just sat down and commenced the craftiness. which made the people in the tattoo shop look at me funny. (imagine that. tattooed weirdos looking at me funny? ha. oh... wait.) because it is quite possible that i am the first person ever to sit down in a tattoo shop with a hundred dollar bag of yarn and knit. while dressed like gidget. because, oh yeah. i was. there i am, in my white capris and my polka dot halter and white headband... with a lap full of yarn, mouthing the words to "killing in the name of."
Boy: um, not really.
me: but you realize i'm going to show you anyways, right?
Miyagi: isn't it just yarn? (don't get too upset, eFriends. remember, he was in a gang. what with the shooting and all, they're probably much too busy to be knitting their own gang outfits (but don't they totally need matching red ponchos? for the bloods, i mean. because duh! i know the crips get yellow. i mean, blue. blue! please don't kill me.)
me: absolutely not. here. let me show you. this is where i whipped out the projector and gave a handy dandy powerpoint show on the many intricacies of yarn.
entire population of tattoo studio: *silence*
me: and i got this eyelash yarn in "peacock" to make a baby sweater for jessie's baby, and this boa yarn in "mallard" (mallard!) to make a little shrug for me...
Boy: what's a shrug?
me: it's a tiny little sweater. like this. *shows picture of typical blond
whoreparis hilton type in tabloid*
Miyagi: but that won't keep you warm.
me: (in my head) boys are stupid.
me: (outloud) it's to cover my tattoos. and make me look pretty. and give me something to do with my hands so i don't fidget so much. because all the pills just aren't working. *chews hair*just kidding. i didn't chew my hair. and i'm not on pills. well, maybe. but only the no-baby kind. not that i need them, dad. really.me: but wait! there's more! i got this metallic black yarn to make another shrug (i have five workdays that will require tattoo coverage, people) and this babysoft yarn to make a lelah, and this chunky natural yarn to make my fleuri bag with the bamboo handles...
entire population of tattoo studio: *silence*
but wait. it gets better.
because then i started to cry.
not actually in the tattoo shop, but pretty much immediately after we left. real live tears. i all of a sudden realized that Boy will now-- forever and ever-- be different from the Boy i fell in love with. not that i won't still love him (because i'm almost positive i will), and not that his arm won't look super cool. it just struck me, that i love those arms so freakin much...
this moment driving cross country, where Boy was in one car and i was in the other and he was driving ahead of me on this long straight stretch of highway with green, green, all-american grass and blue, blue, all-american sky and his arm was dangling sweetly out the driver's side. he was letting the wind go over and under and all around and it was so hot and bright that the hairs on his arm turned to sunlight.
i could start with the interpretations and psychologizing, pointing out how this memory is simple synecdoche (million dollar word) or how traditionally the male's arms symbolize strength and safety to the female, so now the patient (a.k.a the lunatic[unrelated to nelly and the st. lunatics], a.k.a. me) feels like her safety lines are changing. but that would be completely nerdy.
and also pointless, because i am obviously just 100% crazy.
and now incredibly busy, because all this yarn? not gonna knit itself.