Tattoo III - Quan

So when my fairly well paying job at Digital Generation Systems folded about 4 years ago, and life as I knew it was going to take an uncontrollable spin that would destroy my comfort niche, I decided it was the perfect time for my next tattoo.

I was called upon to train the new folks taking our jobs down in Dallas… And by called upon to do training, I mean Mercedes hooked me up with a paid trip to Dallas so we could drive to New Orleans and celebrate my job’s demise in style.

But I decided that the tattoo should be done in Dallas, a place that represented the destruction of all things good. Because you see, this tattoo was going to be my reminder of childhood, physical evidence that I had been becoming a person a did not want to be and a precursor to a new life where I tried a little harder. And where did I get the inspiration for such a tattoo?

Dr. Seuss.

My grandmother had a small collection of Dr. Seuss books that she would read to us; Hop on Pop, 1 Fish 2 Fish Red Fish Blue Fish, The Cat in the Hat. But my favorite, my absolute favorite was and is On Beyond Zebra.

On Beyond Zebra deals with the letters of the alphabet that exist after Z and gives a brief synopsis of the creatures whose names require these specialty letters. My favorite was the letter QUAN which was used to spell Quandary – a small little, orange creature that lived at the bottom of the ocean and couldn’t tell which of his ends was the top. Read:

Like QUAN is for Quandary, who lives on a shelf
In a hole in the ocean alone by himself
And he worries, each day, from the dawn's early light
And he worries, just worries, far into the night.
He just stands there and worries. He simply can't stop...
Is his top-side his bottom? Or bottom-side top?

The picture was this great blue and spooky undersea grotto with this funny little orange oval in the corner of the page. I couldn’t wait till grandma would get to this page; it thrilled me and frightened me a little – possibly my favorite combination.

So this is the design I chose in the same glorious orange as the book, to be placed on my right shoulder.

Mercedes was to scope out tattoo parlors in the Deep Elem section of Dallas, and found one, but it was closed by the time we got there. We then just selected one at random. The guy who did it was an old school Mexican character with a big mustache. He never said, but I got the feeling he got his tattooing practice in prison. Fucking perfect!

Halfway through, Mercedes noticed that I was looking a little droopy. She asked, worriedly (or as worriedly as she could), if I was okay. I was great. My mind had figured out how to turn that tattoo pain into an endorphin rush that wouldn’t quit. As soon as I mentioned this out loud, Senor Cell Block began digging the needle in harder. I just smiled and thought to myself: Go ahead man, do your worst. I know how to flip this shit.