zaftigg

A word or two on touch.

There are certain regions of my body that, when touched, elicit a strong reaction from me that I usually have to hide somewhat so I'll continue getting attention there.

Right now, I'm talking of my scarification of a human heart on my right arm and the skin between the 3 surface piercings on my upper left arm. I'm not sure if people think it will hurt them or hurt me if they touch me here.

I love it when a stranger is bold enough to reach out and stroke that chorded smooth tissue.

My producer/AD/non-sexual life partner Lindsey and a few folks from Columbia came out to say their farewells last night. And the entire night, Lindsey was just stroking my arm and I can't express to you how soothing that is... her fingers tracing my scar, the feel is not unlike someone shouting at you underwater; the surrounding flesh tingling and responding. The emphasis shifts to something that, although not dead, is overly reconstructed and the original format is compromised.



This was from when it had already been cut and healed twice and then Jason went over it this third pass with a dry tattoo needle, which was the worst. I wasn't quite prepared nor able to really get comfortable with that variety of pain.

A Note on Pain.

That was from a section of an essay I wrote last spring that I stumbled upon again. It documents my gallbladder attack when I was 16 and the time I passed out on the blue line from pain in my stomach. That was fun.