Here, I find myself, about as lost as a rodent in a new sewer, scuffling through bags filled with re-used laundry, elbow deep into finding my passport/train ticket/ipod/pen/and whatever, clutching through cabin after cabin in trains, always a stranger frustrated to find a seat. This feeling, foreign enough to keep me in the quest, yet so familiar in the gut. Synchronizing nether both of its hostility. the lugging sound of my suitcase trolling hard thru the cobbled streets, old bistros, dutch houses slunted; wearing thin of its age. this feeling so inclined with the nature I assume I am living now. im back on the road! Sitting half assed out in a train headed towards what I think is Germany, to a little town called braunchweig. the passing trees ignorant to me, green and cold and probly half important, infamous graffitis on trains, language that doesnt register in my toungue, and people after people.
4 weeks in this adventure, another 7 to go. I see an old couple, choked in clothing, folded papers in their wrickled hands with tired eyes milimetes away, figuring the platforms and hours in to their route to wherever their headed. Rooftops floating at the height of the tracks i glide upon, as I command my fingers to write to document to let myself into exile. The past 30 days had been of an exhaustion, the only kind of exhaustion I am most happy about. the only kind of exhaustion I am proud of. The going and the drive. Tattooing. Still the reason, the bread maker, the life continuer.
So I started off this tour with the usual call of almost missing my flight to kuala lumpur. waking up an hour before departure time, fidgeting in bed imagining the long adventure that is starting to trail infront of me, it begins now. flashed, arrived into a canceled erika badhu concert after party, sipping on free champagne and beer, lending the life of the crooked rich the ones i despise, the crowd i ignore in my world. then it was back to work. tattooing off the eccentric new york city urban loft like photography studio of my good found friend julian oh and his wife carol. then it was a week back in singapore at Think tattoos. flew into amsterdam to attend the Rotterdam tattoo convention, alongside my Asian brother friend Jeremy tan. A silent hour and a half train ride thru the old concrete cities of Holland, scenic rivers, farms. Andy succeeded in pulling off a good show, the monstrosity of a crowd, working tattooers clocking time. New friends, new lesssons.
And so the weekend passed and I saw myself back in the legendary tattoo station of greg orie, in dragon tattoo Eindhoven. As always expected, spent the most beautiful and funny 3 weeks. Surrounded by the best environment any tattooer cud ask for. The quality spoken beyond words, the boldness and simplicity of strong tattoos that captivated my eyes to first pick up this craft, provoked any sense of bullshit out of the tattooing world today. just simple and good good tattoos. the way it should be. it was beautiful. I am always forever thankful and honored for the repeated opportunity to be tattooing there.
Then came the Frankfurt tattoo convention, our Asian invasion booth with elson yeo Jeremy tan and Julian oh. . 600 tattooers deep. Last one to finish, and leave. Classic taco time.
Still a Long way to go til I see the broken tiles in my room, listen to the heavy Christian couple that lives below me praising to the mystery up above. Filled with hope. Living every moment as for now.
