I’ve been awfully spotty with my blogging as of late, but tonight I find myself bedridden with a thrown-out back (this is a first for me, and it is not fun, and I don’t like it) so I figure I may as well.
And despite my spotty blogging record, I’m choosing to write a post not about cats, but about my favorite band. I have lots of whacked out theories about life, and while some of them are wishful thinking and pure speculation, there’s one that’s held true. Never trust a person who doesn’t have a favorite band. I have no actual evidence to back this up. I have, however, found that the people I know who have favorite bands (or artists, whatever) end up being people I like and remain friends with. Perhaps this is a loyalty thing. Whatever it is, it is a theory that works for me. And while my 2nd favorite cycles around a large mix of eclectic types of music (namely 2 Chainz, Lady Gaga, Bloodhound Gang and Blood for Blood… imagine THAT concert), my #1 has been around since the ripe old age of 14, when my 8th grade boyfriend (I think we “went out” for a whole week) lent me a cassette tape. That band has been and forever will be the illustrious Gwar. Yes, those dudes in the costumes. Back then I was finding myself still, I started 8th grade into alternative and ended as a punk rocker, which at heart I suppose I’ll always be. But I’ve never strayed from Gwar. Through everything, they’ve been my go-to. When I got my first car, I plastered it with Gwar stickers. And I’ll always remember how ecstatic I was to see them the first time. And while I’ve seen them countless times since, I skipped quite a few, too. Why? Because I’ll catch the next one. Because I had to work. Because I was tired.
I regret those missed ones now, because I can’t catch the next one. The lead singer, Dave Brockie (better known as Oderus Urungus), died. There’s no Gwar without him. You can’t find a karaoke singer to replace his madness like the Asian Steve Perry in Journey. And I’ve found myself devastated. My logic side feels silly for being so upset. But I am. I lost part of my teenage self. The one I found every time I saw them live, even now as an old lady (the last two times I ended up giving myself whiplash from the headbanging, this didn’t happen when I was younger). That constant in my life is gone.
The 3rd time I saw them, none of my friends wanted to go so I went myself. I was sitting outside when I saw Dave Brockie walking around, and no one else recognized him out of costume. I remember going up to him and talking to him, and he was just cool as shit. He didn’t get creepy and hit on me like a lot of douchebags in bands do when they talk to girls, or talk down to me like some stupid starstruck kid, he just talked to me like I was a fan and friend. I will never in my life forget that. It’s not like I could like the band any more than I already did, but it meant a lot to me. Yeah, he’s not uber famous. I didn’t have some amazing, rare encounter. But I think the affirmation that I liked the people behind the band I was such a fan of meant more.
So I’m not apologizing for being a grown adult and crying over the death of someone I barely knew. I’m crying over the loss of what really is a legend. There’s nothing in the world like Gwar and there never will be again. Dave Brockie was a fucking genius. He was hilarious. He was offensive. He never failed me, except for two really really bad albums (but I still know them note for note). Gwar was more than just a band, they were ART. Beautiful, offensive, bloody art. So Oderus, I will miss you horribly. And in your memory, I will remember to offend the living shit out of everyone I possibly can, because above all, you truly taught me the meaning of “fuck em if they can’t take a joke.” So fuck ’em.
Ok, that’s stretching it a little. I am not nearly as tatted up as I could be, or even as much as I want to be. In fact, I just recently broke a SEVEN YEAR tattooless streak. I imagine it is something like a recovering heroin addict trying heroin again. They’re addictive. As soon as the needle started jabbing away, it was like riding a bike.
Here’s a shameful fact. Despite my crazy cat lady status, I have a mere TWO cat tattoos. There’s some girl who got a whole SLEEVE dedicated to her cats! I should have my membership revoked.
It’s not that I don’t WANT more cat tattoos, it’s that my style of choice is generally traditional and there are few ways to place cats in that setting. I’ve also seen a LOT of really really really ugly cat tattoos. Have you ever seen someone who got a portrait of their kid or mom by a crappy artist and the tattoo ends up resembling Sloth from The Goonies? That happens with cat portraits too. Do not want.
Below is my very first tattoo. Actually, it’s my third, because I have some dots on my hand when I was experimenting with india ink at 15 and also a lovely chaos symbol, also done with india ink at 15, that this tattoo is covering up. I got it the day I turned 18, and boy, am I glad I waited. I have very few regrets about my tattoos because they’re really a timeline of YOU, but I remember the incredibly stupid crap I wanted pre-18 and it was far worse than anything I got after. I was so very into punk rock and being an anarchist and although I’ve retained a lot of the snotty attitude and defiance, I no longer think The Exploited is a really inspiring band. But Gwar (the tattoo below) has stood the test of time, and they are still my very favorite band, and have been since I was 14.
Here’s the tally:
- 5 skulls
- 3 butterflies (they’re awesome butterflies, though…tough, not pansy-ass)
- 2 hearts with daggers
- 2 Gwar tattoos
- 1 Guns n’ Roses tattoo (but I got it traditional-style)
- And some various other things.
And only two cats.
This one, my ex did. This was back in his apprentice days but last I heard he opened his own shop and is doing really amazing work. This one is all faded, please don’t judge. I got this when I was kickboxing and was amused at the thought of kicking someone in the face with the angry cat.
And below is my newest masterpiece. I’d wanted a tattoo done by Jason Minauro for a really long time, but I never got around to it. When I finally did, I saw what all the fuss was about. He’s amazing. I fancy myself somewhat of an artist and in fact wanted to become a tattoo artist at one point, but I didn’t want to insult him with anything more than a rough sketch of what I wanted. And I am SO glad I didn’t, because his art was far better than anything I could have done. This is probably why he’s like, renowned and shit. He found my cat obsession amusing, and added such great little touches like the claws on the brass knuckles. I’m also very happy that it turned out so well because it is my first IN YOUR FACE visible tattoo (my forearm) and is rather large. And yes, the PAWS UP is a clever Lady Gaga reference. I love her. He also found this amusing.
Now…what to get next?