ill

for the first time in years, i'm sick. perhaps i shouldn't be complaining since it's only the flu when it could be so much worse. but my head throbs when i cough, my chest burns when my head hurts, my stomach turns when my chest burns, my body aches when my stomach turns and i've never been so cold in all of my life while living in an apartment that probably doesn't get much above 60degrees farenheit at any time. i realise, only now, that i felt this coming days ago and should've immediately went for my stay healthy regimate of h20, oj, hot tea, and h20, but it's been so long since i've felt sick that i didn't recognise the symptoms. i anxiously await a broken fever.

natural bobaraba

everyone loves a woman with bobaraba; big bottom in one of cote d'ivoire's local languages, djoula. but now ivorian women are taking it to dangerous heights in response to dj mix+dj eloh's song/video entitled bobaraba that even had some native footballers shaking their ass on the recent cup of nations pitch. some ivorian women are now buying unknown drugs, commonly liquid injections+creams thought (hoped) to be b12, from black markets said to increase the size of their bottom. while b12 is not known to be harmful, it is impossible to know what else these women could be injecting into their bodies. no injections of b12 or silicon or anything else will ever beat the beautiful quality of a natural woman, ass+all. real hair, real face, real breasts, real bottom and a strong will are all we're looking for. so ms. fat booty, please keep it natural and i guarantee you'll be getting stuck with something more than a needle.

britishink

my tattoo artist, paul roe, was nice enough to provide me with free cover into the baltimore tattoo convention over the weekend. i couldn't pass up such a great opportunity to shoot and w/ camera in hand traveled with a couple people up 295 to the sheraton where the convention was being held.
as expected, hundreds of freaks and geeks crammed into two ballrooms filled with the endless buzzing of dozens needles, the stink of sweat, and some of the best tattoo artists on the east coast - each exhibiting their art in books and in person. bodies (some more beautiful than others) full of art paced the hotel all day and some of the pieces left me wishing i could feel as free with my own skin; but then, why would i want a slain dragon or evil pez dispenser on my forearm?
i'm not judging anyone else, but i believe tattoos to be a mark in time, engraved to remind us of who, what and where we've been. each line a different memory. paul and cynthia, the other half of britishink, understand this concept and have a true passion for their craft; paul even designs his own tattoo machines - which after yesterday's convention i realise is a pretty popular trade, though none more beautiful and intricate as paul's.
paul wasn't selling any of his custom machines but he+cynthia were busy tattooing at the britishink booth in full victorian drab proving to be the most interesting exhibit going. i'm posting a couple pictures as well as a few full back tattoos that i spotted while wandering around.
a master of his craft, you gotta check out the work paul's done on grims' shoulder. it's freehand and looks like it could be finished, but there's another sitting to come. it makes me jealous already and paul worked on me only two weeks ago.
oh, paul also turned us on to this guy @ yourmeatismine.com which inspired some of the sketches @ the bottom of this post.

marking time

i drifted off in my head as the ink bled from my chest, concentrating on the pain at times, trying to figure out which line was being drawn. other times were spent thinking about this beautiful piece of art that i was becoming, and how somehow this tattoo was completing my chest - as though it had been missing all along.
the tattoo: my design, paul roe's artwork, came from a page in my notebook from a time ago, but something i knew belonged on my body - memories branded for life. it was a time of growth, experience and change, finding me, now, a better version of myself. that kind of thing deserves to be documented. the design is, for reasons i can't even put into text, the most important thing i've ever sketched and i suppose that is why it covers my solar plexus now. it is placed at my center, my core.

feel free to laugh at my hairy-whiteness, but in my defense, i've lived in a basement for the past year while working in one for the last two. the hairiness is just a result of italian genes.

photographer: grims.