April 15, 1999.

A lazy day, undertoned with a vague feeling of restlessness. Wore my new "club kids diggit!" tank top. It's pretty low. How come things look less slutty in the mall than they do in my bathroom? Sigh.

Speaking of sluts, St. Stephen has reported the following amusing tidbit relating to this very page: "whenever I went to the site, it kept redirecting me to "Blacks on Blondes - interracial sex pictures."

Yeah...mistake...hmmm.

The topic of conversation around the fabulously appointed I Put A Spell On You Manor is tattoos. Specifically, the Boy wants some more ink, and he's looking around for ideas. We kicked around a few designs and then started drawing on each other in pen. Currently, I sport a Nike swoosh over my heart, and the Boy has an ankh on his tricep and a sign on his chest declaring which end of him is to remain up. The ankh scares me a little...it's such a goth cliché tatt, but it looks so natural there. Little Spider has a fabulous one over the base of her spine, and I've always wanted to succumb to the lure of the ankh. But I won't. Not this month, at least.

My own idea is to get a phrase from "Ying Ying's Story" in the original Chinese on my ankle. The phrase is "desire unfulfilled," and I think it'll nicely put the cap on my year with Asian lit and university in general. A lust for life kind of statement, a phrase appropriated and divorced from its romantic context, just as my other tattoo is a statement of patriotism turned into a love-letter.

My problem is with regret. I've wanted various tattoos for some time, but I've been too scared. What if I regret the design? What if I have the Stacy experience, in which drunken strangers think they can grab me & demand an explanation for my body art? I think that the only reason I could go through with the one I have is because I was completely fucking numb at the time. If my emotions were a fuse board, everybody would be in the dark. I was a shell of myself. I simply lost fear along with the rest of it.

And although I love my tattoo, I do not wish for that state ever again. I either find the courage, or I don't. No heartbreak for me thanks...I filled up on the complimentary salad.

My fragile little ego is overjoyed at the number of people signing up for my list. Oh the pressure to be amusing! But I guess if you've followed me this far, the pressure isn't that high.