Monthly Archives: October 2013

O is for O’Canada

Every day in October I will be rocking an A To Z Blog Challenge about my terribly terrific tattoos. Every day a new letter. Today is October 16 so the letter of the day is M (I’m taking Sundays off. Columbus Day too!)

O is for O’Canada

O’Canada. One of my myriad of travel tattoos. Sometimes my tattoos are like little postcards on my body, markers to remind me of my adventures and wanderlust… This particular one comes from a trip I had to Toronto to see my beloved Yankees take on and trample our northern neighbors the Blue Jays. I knew it was going to be a good trip when I was able to secure a room at the Toronto Harbor Castle, the scene of Keith Richards’ legendary heroin bust.

Great trip it was. I took in plenty of baseball and dim sum with my homie James “Guitar” Shields and had a fantastic few days wandering the city. I even got to see Valient Thorr. Didn’t run into the Trailer Park Boys. That was a different trip. Bubbles!!!!!

I’ve alway had an affinity for Canada and the Canucks who call it Mama. From my first trip to Quebec City with my 8th grade French class, when I was kicked out of the country and told not to come back until I was 18 for setting my room in the city’s finest hotel, the Chateau Frontenac, on fire, I knew the land would provide a warm hive from which I would launch several more bad ideas. But those are all stories for another post. The second day of this particular trip was spent strolling around Kensington Market, foraging for fruits and trolling the thrift stores, I passed a “clean enough” looking tattoo shop and the urge struck. “I love Canada, I thought… and I have some time to kill. Time for a Maple Leaf tattoo.” So that’s what I did. Wonder if it would be enough for me to one day emigrate, or at least get some of their sweet socialized health care in the event I get sick. Can’t wait to find out.

This was the first tattoo I ever had that got infected.  First of 2. That's a batting average better than any Blue Jay in history.

This was the first tattoo I ever had that got infected. First of 2. That’s a batting average better than any Blue Jay in history.

N is for Neltie

Every day in October I will be rocking an A To Z Blog Challenge about my terribly terrific tattoos. Every day a new letter. Today is October 17 so the letter of the day is N (I’m taking Sundays off. Columbus Day too!)

N is for Neltie

My little sister. The platonic love of my life. I’ve never met anybody who doesn’t love Neltie Penman. Except the ones who’ve loved her a little bit too obsessively. But that is only a problem when you’re such an adorable tattooed touring goddess. One day I was in the mood for a tattoo and didn’t know what to get. I texted her for advice and she suggested I get her name. Didn’t happen that day, but a short while later we went and got each other’s names. Inspired by the I Love Lucy logo. It’s a good thing we’ve never fucked cuz that would inevitably mean I’d need to get this one removed. And only pussies get their tattoos removed.

HIS:
photo

HERS:
IMG_3174 2

M is for Motaur

Every day in October I will be rocking an A To Z Blog Challenge about my terribly terrific tattoos. Every day a new letter. Today is October 16 so the letter of the day is M (I’m taking Sundays off. Columbus Day too!)

M is for Motuar

My tattoo of a unicorn humping a dolphin in front of a rainbow gets all the love. It’s in a few tattoo books and a ton of “best” and “worst” tattoo roundups in the interwebz. But it’s only my second favorite tattoo of a mythical creature. My favorite, of course, is the Motaur. Half-Man Half-Amazing.

It’s all Ben Stiller’s fault. Or White Goodman’s fault. Who can forget his riveting turn as an egomaniacal gym owner in the 2004 celluloid classic Dodgeball. Perhaps the apex of his character’s development came when he was meeting with Christine Taylor’s Kate Veatch in his gym office and she commented on the painting that hung behind his desk. The one of him wrestling a bull. “Yeah that’s me, taking the bull by the horns” he casually yet seductively purred. “It’s how I handle my business. It’s a metaphor… But that really happened!”

In a movie full of incredible scenes, that’s the one that that kept echoing in the chasms of my psyche. As I wandered the streets after leaving the theater, I knew I needed to get as ridiculous a portrait of myself to hang behind my desk at work. It was a negotiating tactic. I figured that anyone who came into my office would be some combination of scared, confused, and aroused. And that combination, in whatever doses of each, would be enough to knock them at least one step off their game and allow me to have the upper hand. I’m still not sure if that ever worked but it sure been fun over the years to watch people’s reactions as they figure out what it is…

Deciding exactly what my portrait would entail took almost no time at all. It must have been divine inspiration. Given my love of motorcycles, that had to be the theme. And it had to outdo White Goodman’s portrait.

I called up my pARTner in crime, Glenn Hidalgo, and said “Glenn, I need you to make a portrait of me. I want to be half man, half motorcycle, set in a post apocaclytpic New York City. I want one hand to be clutching some cash and the other to be throwing the goat. Got it?” Get it he did.

It didn’t take me long to decide that I wanted to get it tattooed on my back. It DID however take almost 4 years for me to work up the cojones to go through with it. The only man who I trusted this job to was Bruce Gulick, who has since gone on to be my business partner and operator of our amazing tattoo shop The Magic Fun Store in Tucson, Arizona. At the time Bruce was living in Maryland, so I made the 300 round trip mile trek down the scenic New Jersey Turnpike. 6 times. Rome wasn’t built in a day and neither was my back. By the time the fat man roared we had done 7 sessions spanning some 45 hours of work. The last of which was done in my apartment in New York City the day before Bruce moved to Tucson. Timing, as they say, is everything.

The Painting:
Motaur

The Tattoo:

MOTAUR.COMBO.TAT.WEB-001

I’ve been planning this A-Z Tattoo Blog ever since I took part in another A-Z Blog Challenge in April 2013. I knew that the M is for Motaur post would be an important entry to me, which meant that this tattoo warranted more than just a simple writeup and photo. So I did what any industrious concertpromoting rock n roll obsessed tattoo fanatic would do: I commission one of my favorite songwriters, Chris Catalyst, and his band, the Eureka Machines, to write a song about the tattoo and then hired video whiz B.A. Miale – who also make the viral video sensation The Dolphin and the Unicorn – and animator Gregory Stovetop to give it the full on visual treatment.

I gave them both a rough idea of what I was looking for and then let them work their magic. Magic really is the only word I can use to describe it.

Here it is – in all it’s bare chested, balls of a bike glory…

The Song:
THE MOTAUR RIDES (Half-Man Half-Amazing)

Many thanks to the irrepressible spirit and lovely lens of Deneka Peniston for the tattoo pics!

L is for Larry Bloch and Live Your Dash #LYD

Every day in October I will be rocking an A To Z Blog Challenge about my terribly terrific tattoos. Every day a new letter. Today is October 15 so the letter of the day is L (I’m taking Sundays off. Columbus Day too!)

L is for Larry Bloch.. and Live Your Dash. #LYD.

Larry Bloch is my hero. He gave me my first real job in New York City in 1994. I didn’t know it then, but he also gave me my life. I came to New York with a dream of starting a record label, which I did. Which? Records, RIP. And with the idea that I would have a life in the record business. I’m so glad fate intervened and sent me into the world of concerts. You can’t download a concert… yet.

Larry Bloch founded Wetlands Preserve; one of the most iconic live music clubs in rock n roll history. The Punks had CBGB and the second wave of hippies had Wetlands. It’s where the Spin Doctors and Blues Traveler rose to prominence. And where Phish, The Dave Matthews Band, Widespread Panic, and Hootie And the Blowfish played all their early NYC gigs. But there was good music there too! Sublime, Oasis, Pearl Jam and Rage Against the Machine all played their first NYC gigs there. The Roots played every Sunday night for years. Punk and hardcore shows happened almost every Sunday afternoon. And between 1994 and 2001 I was there almost every day. Larry somehow hired me even though in the interview I told him I wasn’t a fan of the Grateful Dead. I started as his assistant but we quickly became friends. More than friends. He was my friend, my boss, my mentor, and a father figure. When I left college after one fruitless year to move to New York (after a brief stint in Hollywood), my father thought it was the biggest mistake I could make. Him and my mother both came from poor immigrant families and were the first in their families to go to college. So when it became obvious to my dad that I had moved to NYC for good our relationship soured. It wasn’t until I established my own business that we were really able to reconnect.

During my 20s I not only looked up to Larry, I looked TO him. For advice. For encouragement. For comfort. A lot. He taught me so much. He taught me about music. He taught me about putting on a show. He taught me about running a business. He taught me about the intangibles. About how the things people DON’T notice can have more impact on them than the things they DO notice. He taught me that you don’t just spend money to make money. You spend money to make things right… better than right. And then the money will find it’s way back to you. Perhaps most importantly, Larry birthed in me my distrust of corporations and government, which has changed my whole world perspective.

After he sold Wetlands to Peter Shapiro in 1997 he moved up to Brattleboro, Vermont where he started a retail store called “Save the Corporations” that also housed a community activism center. He served on the board of directors for his local radio station and hosted a weekly music show on the air. He was a well loved character in his community and with good cause.

Larry also loved playing the ponies. He was pretty good at it too. A few years back he hit a trifecta on the Kentucky Derby. A trifecta is picking all 3 horses to win, place, and show. The odds of hitting it are astronomical. His bet was $3,000 and he took home more than a million. Then he promptly gave it all away to his favorite charities. He never bragged about his generosity and he might even bristle at knowing that I’m outing him publicly. But shortly before he passed away he told me that his favorite cashier at the food co-op had mentioned in passing once that it had always been her and her husband’s dream to go to Hawaii but that they were never able to afford it. So he sent them on their trip with his winnings. That’s the kind of guy he was.

After he moved, I would visit him frequently at first, but over time the visits slowed, as they do as time goes on and lives get more complex. But the last time I saw him before he got sick was in New York. We went out for dinner and I finally got to tell him how much of an inspiration he was to me. How I had applied what I learned from him in my own life and to my own business. It was an emotional confession and both of us got choked up. I’m so happy I got to tell him that before he got sick.

Last spring I got a phone call from Larry. It was a short voicemail message that told me to call him back asap. I got a terrible feeling in my stomach and somehow knew what he was going to tell me. I called him back immediately and he confirmed my fears. He had been stricken with Stage 4 Pancreatic Cancer. Serious shit. I made the trip to Vermont to see him a couple of days later. He didn’t look good. At all. But he was in good spirits. As good as could be after getting that sort of news. He told me that just a few weeks before he had been playing the best tennis of his life. And then one day he didn’t feel so hot. Felt worse the next. Then he went to the doctor and they did some tests and the next thing he knew they were predicting his imminent death. But Larry was having none of it. He made a trip to an ‘experimental’ treatment center in Mexico and that bought him about 6 months of good livin’. As good as it can get under those circumstances.

* * * * *

A few months before Larry got sick, my buddy Seth aka the Goon was going through his own private hell. He was in as good of shape as anyone I knew. Long distance runner, boxer, and all around bad ass. One night he had chest pains and felt a shortness of breath. He went to the Emergency Room and the doctor did an exam and sent him home and told him to come back the next day. He never made it past the lobby of his apartment building. He collapsed and luckily the super was there to call an ambulance. He had suffered an aortic aneurism. Basically a piece of his heart exploded. That night he had emergency open heart surgery. We all went to visit him a couple days later and were busting his balls about being weak hearted. He was taking it all in stride, like the champ he is. A few days later while recovering from the surgery he suffered a stroke. He’s still recovering from the stroke, and might be recovering forever. But he hasn’t let it bring him down. He’s still kicking ass and Living His Dash.

LYD – Live Your Dash. A couple weeks before Seth’s heart hiccups, me and Seth and a crew of goons had movie night. We went to see “Into The Abyss” a Werner Herzog documentary about a couple of white trash scumbags in Texas who committed a triple homicide. We had to laugh to keep from crying during the film, but one part stuck with us all long after the movie was done.

It was the part where Herzog was interviewing the lead executioner from the State of Texas. This was the last man you saw if you were a bad bad man. He would collect you from your cell, strap you down on the table, and administer the lethal injection. In the film he talks about how after well over 100 executions, one day he broke down and decided he could never do another. He quit that day. Even though the state told him he would lose his pension if he quit. He just couldn’t take another life. He said he had to live his dash. He explained that when you die, your tombstone has two dates on it. The day you were born, and they day you die. And that little dash in between represents the rest of your life, and what you did with it. Live Your Dash.

In the days after the movie we were all texting and tweeting each other and using the hashtag #LYD. It was funny. And fun. Then we all went and got LYD tattoos from Luke, who not only designed the tattoo, but is a founding member of team LYD.

About a week after we got the tattoos is when Seth fell ill. When the team at the hospital tried to give him an IV, they had a hard time finding a vein. When they finally got it to stick, they had placed the needle right in the center of Seth’s LYD tattoo. Coincidence? Hmmmmm.

I love my little LYD and PMA (Positive Mental Attitude) tattoos. They are important to me, and how I live my life. I wanted to incorporate them into a bigger piece. So I asked Luke Wessman to draw up a piece for my ribs that would incorporate PMA, LYD, 161 (for the address of Wetlands – 161 Hudson Street), and one of Luke’s signature skeletons riding one of those old-school penny farthing bicycles. The penny farthing was a nod to the old British TV show the Prisoner which Larry turned me on to. Larry never got to see the tattoo but he did see Luke’s completed drawing the last time I saw him. I love and miss you Number 6. Be seeing you!

The ribs. The ouchiest spot for a tattoo.

The ribs. The ouchiest spot for a tattoo.

Here are some thoughts I shared about Larry at his memorial service last year.

And the trailer for Wetlands Preserved – the Movie!

Many thanks to the irrepressible spirit and lovely lens of Deneka Peniston for the tattoo pics!

K is for Krackie – the Death of The American Dream Eagle

Every day in October I will be rocking an A To Z Blog Challenge about my terribly terrific tattoos. Every day a new letter. Today is October 12 so the letter of the day is K (I’m taking Sundays off)

K is for Krackie… The Death of the American Dream Eagle.

Krackie put in his time and went to war for the once-great country that he loves. He came back and found had been marginalized and was unwanted in a land that had been taken over by corrupt politicians and crooked bankers. He’s wounded and not able to get fixed up because the VA hospital is losing it’s funding. And the god damn douche canoe congressman have shut down the government. He’s trying to hold on to the tattered shreds of ideals of the country he went off to fight for, but the only thing that’s the same as when he left is the persistence of God in his culture and his ability to bear arms. He hasn’t even been rewarded financially for his sacrifices so he had to pawn his medals, but the only thing that bought him was a bottle of booze. He sat and thought about what to do with the booze and figured rather than use it to numb his pain, he’d turn it into a molotov cocktail and is about to throw it through the window of a local bank as a way to protest the special interest groups and lobbies who have skull-fucked him, forcing him to wear an eye-patch.

Krackie might be down, but he’s not out. Much like the American Dream. Time to take back what’s ours.

I got this tattoo last November. Long before the Gov’t shutdown. But sadly it rings more true today then it did back then. Any sane person has plenty of grievances about what’s happening to our country. I wish somebody, anybody, had some solutions.

Where's my gun? Where's my 40 bullets??

Tattoo by Tasha Rubinow at Inborn NYC

Many thanks to the irrepressible spirit and lovely lens of Deneka Peniston for the tattoo pics!

J is for Jetset

Every day in October I will be rocking an A To Z Blog Challenge about my terribly terrific tattoos. Every day a new letter. Today is October 11 so the letter of the day is J (I’m taking Sundays off)

BONUS POST – I couldn’t decide which J tattoo I wanted to include so I did two entries today. Thank me later.

J is for Jet$et

When I was getting my ribs done (which will be featured in L is for…) I got jumped into another lil tattoo “gang” by Luke Wessman. He made an image of Jet$set for his friends that were seemingly always on planes and heading off to parts unknown. I’m the newest member after Luke, Toby Morse of H2O and “The Greatest In The World” former WWE Heavyweight Champion CM Punk.

When I was recording my podcast with Matt Caughthran of the Bronx y Maricahi El Bronx, we were at that point acquaintances, but hadn’t yet become friends. About 10 minutes into the podcast he stopped mid-semntence and said “Is that a JetSet tattoo from Luke Wessman?” I confirmed and he said “That’s dope man! Luke is my Boy.” We gave Luke a little shoutout and from then on in the conversatiomn was a LOOT more candid.

Jet$et

Jet$et

Click here to download the Get your Rocks Off Podcast with Matt Caughthran

Click here to download the Get your Rocks Off Podcast with Luke Wessman

Many thanks to the irrepressible spirit and lovely lens of Deneka Peniston for the tattoo pics!