To answer your question, I'm planning on getting "Sevas Tra" tattooed on my left forearm.
For those of you familliar with Otep, you'll know what that means and how fucking wicked it looks.
For the rest of you, it's "art saves" spelled backwards and the name of a CD by a kickass band called Otep, fronted by the wonderfully fucked-up goddess of art, Otep Shamaya. That being said, go look that shit up, listen to it, get in the loop, and appreciate the weight of this tattoo.
Otep's work is very important to me. It helped me get through years of shit and make sense of things that I thought were going to haunt me forever. When I thought I was all alone, Otep was the reassurance I needed. And their art also provided fuel for a firey rage that could be nurtured and channelled into something great.
I think tattoos should be meaningful and special to their bearers. 'Cause - fuck - they're on you FOREVER.
Actually, this ties into what I really came here to write about - Wreck This Journal. A book by Keri Smith. My mom just gave me a copy a couple days ago as a late birthday present. She found out about it from my sister who was on some Flickr thing where people dump out their bags/purses and take pictures of the contents. Apparently, pretty much everyone had this book.
It's like a disease. But it's a really good one that you learn a lot from. I'm only a couple days in, but I've already discovered so much.
Basically, this book has a little activity to do on each page. Each one causes some degree of damage to the book. The point being something along the lines of addressing one's constant strive for perfection and leaping out of your comfort zone - though I realize different people will get different things out of this book and therefore see the point of it as something other than what I just said, but that too is part of the point.
Par example: earlier today I took the journal in the shower with me. Then tied a string around it and dragged it from my house to the liquor store where I bought cigarettes and borrowed a pen to scribble in the journal. Then I went to the park, tore out a page, threw it in the garbage can, and dragged/kicked/flung the book all the way back home.
It will all make sense when you get your copy.
Trust me, you will get one. Look it up, check out the pictures on Flickr, read the blog on the official website, or just go out and buy a copy. You'll love it. And you'll be part of the secret club kind of deal that surrounds the wreckage.
In art and arms,
x
P.S. Evan, this is for you:
((incase you can't tell, that's jealousy. but it's the good kind, I swear))
For those of you familliar with Otep, you'll know what that means and how fucking wicked it looks.
For the rest of you, it's "art saves" spelled backwards and the name of a CD by a kickass band called Otep, fronted by the wonderfully fucked-up goddess of art, Otep Shamaya. That being said, go look that shit up, listen to it, get in the loop, and appreciate the weight of this tattoo.
Otep's work is very important to me. It helped me get through years of shit and make sense of things that I thought were going to haunt me forever. When I thought I was all alone, Otep was the reassurance I needed. And their art also provided fuel for a firey rage that could be nurtured and channelled into something great.
I think tattoos should be meaningful and special to their bearers. 'Cause - fuck - they're on you FOREVER.
Actually, this ties into what I really came here to write about - Wreck This Journal. A book by Keri Smith. My mom just gave me a copy a couple days ago as a late birthday present. She found out about it from my sister who was on some Flickr thing where people dump out their bags/purses and take pictures of the contents. Apparently, pretty much everyone had this book.
It's like a disease. But it's a really good one that you learn a lot from. I'm only a couple days in, but I've already discovered so much.
Basically, this book has a little activity to do on each page. Each one causes some degree of damage to the book. The point being something along the lines of addressing one's constant strive for perfection and leaping out of your comfort zone - though I realize different people will get different things out of this book and therefore see the point of it as something other than what I just said, but that too is part of the point.
Par example: earlier today I took the journal in the shower with me. Then tied a string around it and dragged it from my house to the liquor store where I bought cigarettes and borrowed a pen to scribble in the journal. Then I went to the park, tore out a page, threw it in the garbage can, and dragged/kicked/flung the book all the way back home.
It will all make sense when you get your copy.
Trust me, you will get one. Look it up, check out the pictures on Flickr, read the blog on the official website, or just go out and buy a copy. You'll love it. And you'll be part of the secret club kind of deal that surrounds the wreckage.
In art and arms,
x
P.S. Evan, this is for you:
((incase you can't tell, that's jealousy. but it's the good kind, I swear))
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
pirate:
I fucking love OTEP. That will be a wicked tatt.
evthekiller:
i know this blog is almost a year old, but the end still made my heart skip a beat. you are amazing, babe.
