I got my first tattoo when I turned twenty-one, telling myself that I would get new ink every five years and/or during a pivotal state of my life like turning twenty-five or to commemorate the “freak-out” stage of when I became thirty years old. I admit, I’m sentimental and have no qualms about embracing and wholeheartedly celebrating traditions both old, new and borrowed.
Frank and Paul, part of my “logical” San Francisco family (to borrow a term from Mrs. Madrigal of the Tales of the City books) have generously opened up their home for me to rest my nappy head. Its also given me time to get to know their housemate Shadow, a very sweet soul who I feel has quickly become part of my ‘family,’ who is a tattoo artist who owns a Mission District-based tattoo space named Painted Monkey. Continue reading