Amanda Wachob Tattoos

i have always been a fan of body modifications. perhaps it was my early-adolescent love of punk rock and the 90's "alternative" scene. as i've gotten a bit older, i find i still love it, but am more impressed or drawn to tattoos that fall under one of two categories- 1.) great personal meaning to the individual or 2.)truly visually interesting. now, if the two can be combined, that's the gold standard.
a while back, i stumbled across Amanda Wachob's website- an online gallery of some of her tattoo work. and it's beautiful.

i love the painterly quality of her work. not all tattoos have to look "badass" and she has done some tattoos that are so gorgeous, so fluid, so artistic, they seem to be in a different category all their own.

the look of a chest piece like this is just so perfect. it's lovely because it's familiar but not, at the same time.



i'm also loving these. these are tattoos done with distilled water instead of ink, and they fade after some time. there seems to be something almost magical about it (abracadabras aside, even)- the idea that you tattoo this image into your skin and let it heal in to you.




these abstracts are also pretty phenomenal. i love how they look like they were done so quickly, but ultimately they must have taken quite some time.




doesn't it make you want to run out and visit her?


another interesting artist to check out: Yannou. black, red, and gray all over.

G.

for reasons that are boring and irrelevant, i am having a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, just like Alexander. and on days such as this, i sometimes like to read a few poems that always make my heart feel big. open wide and hungry like sails. mary oliver is always good to read on a rotten day. so, even though it's friday, and maybe you are having a good day, i recommend you read this poem. if your day is going all wrong, this will help. if your day has been good, this will just add to your joy.

Starlings in Winter- Mary Oliver

Chunky and noisy,
but with stars in their black feathers,
they spring from the telephone wire
and instantly
they are acrobats
in the freezing wind.
And now, in the theater of air,
they swing over buildings,
dipping and rising;
they float like one stippled star
that opens,
becomes for a moment fragmented,
then closes again;
and you watch
and you try
but you simply can’t imagine
how they do it
with no articulated instruction, no pause,
only the silent confirmation
that they are this notable thing,
this wheel of many parts, that can rise and spin
over and over again,
full of gorgeous life.
Ah, world, what lessons you prepare for us,
even in the leafless winter,
even in the ashy city.
I am thinking now
of grief, and of getting past it;
I feel my boots
trying to leave the ground,
I feel my heart
pumping hard. I want
to think again of dangerous and noble things.
I want to be light and frolicsome.
I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing,
as though I had wings.



there now. don't you feel good? i feel better already...

F.

holy crap it finally happened! the Full House house has been put up for sale! i LOVED the Tanner family. LOVED. as an only child, that's what i imaged sibling-hood to be. they had petty fights, sure, but they always hugged and made up in the end. it was effing beautiful. and who wouldn't want an uncle and an "uncle" -one a wacky comedian & the other a super-cool musician- living with you?? did you also love how everyone was always experiencing different-but-loosely-related issues in every episode that one sweet Danny-Tanner-delivered moral of the story would simplify and fix? it was perfection. and now, YOU can live in their house. the Tanner household.

speaking of excellent 90's television... after my Full House days were gone, and i'd grown into an appropriately angsty adolescent, it was My So-Called Life that really did it for me. oh, Angela Chase- i died my hair an awkward shade of burgundy because of you. the other day, i was recalling an episode in which Angela has to stay in her teacher's room during lunch- either finishing an assignment or serving detention, i can't recall which. BUT, she is watching the teacher, one she likes, and starts thinking how pathetic this teacher seems once she pulls out her little sandwich and starts eating. it made me wonder what my students think when they are finishing work in my room during lunch. do they notice my little soup? do they talk about how weird my indian food smells? do they get grossed out by my roasted veg and quinoa? i have no idea! but thinking about it makes me feel as strangely on-the-spot as i felt when i was a teenager.


*un-related but still worth mentioning: i STILL want to wear more flannel than could possibly be attractive and STILL think Rayanne seems intimidatingly cool. Also, Jordan Catalano is STILL a dreamboat.