Gloomy Inks

Actually I was just out, talking to the super in the building. He can get me rats, but according to Health Dept. regs here they're fine to use in a wheel power supply, but I have to run chords from the dirty room.

Hello. Gloomy here making my entrance. Tattooing, on and off since I was 22. Seriously for about three years now. Much more to learn of course, but I'm not one to have a big head. I'm very much into the "old masters" although people like Paul Booth, Caleb Morgan, and many more I can't think of at this early hour for me.
I'm writing as well as gearing up to start a shop here in Central Florida, although there are so many fine artists here, truly, that I'm humbled every day to see fine work, and being my worst critic, strive to do the best work I can.
I'm pretty gregarious. I'll pull a hunk of pork chop out of my mouth, put my beer down, and run after an old guy or gal on the off chance that they'll tell me about an old green one. The wonderful thing about tattooing that I feel sometimes we miss is that we're artists, we have more in common than not. There is room for everyone, it isn't going to die. Sure, the art will on skin, as we all have a shelf life. The flash, the machines, the crazy, scary, and down right funny stories (and what is up with the old time guys and monkeys? My grandfather had one once, terrible stories he told me, and every time I hear about an artist with a monkey I brace myself for something worse) that bind us, rather then tear us apart.
It's not us against us, no matter what the back biting of the current and past maybe. For me it's balance always. I'm a 'mersh artist, I just happen to be one with a really friggin' cool jobby job. You can't go swimming without getting wet, so I put on my mask and snorkel and dive deep into as much of the art, the history of it, and the mechanics as I can. From making machines, tuning (things I'll admit I'm getting better at, but still I'm way lame), to cutting acetates, to dealing with people of all walks as we do these days, to taking classes with the retired folks at the library on watercolors. My goal is not to be the best, as Stoney St. Clair (a true inspiration when I'm feeling burned out) said, "Just as good as the rest."
Sometimes I get asked what I do best. My answer is simple: clean, quality work. You walk away happy, smiling, and without a fatal liver disease.
I do have other interests too. I love to write, and I'm doing some tattoo history research, albeit slowly, as well as working on a novel about tattooing, revenge, and redemption set right before world war two. I'm a big US Civil War buff. I've played music since I was 12 and have not let up on that either.
Somehow, I even find time to be with my stunning woman, who I have no idea what she sees in me.
All that aside I have a bit of the rebel in me. I hated school from the first day of kindergarden. It was a 14 year (I wasn't held back, but I was too big for another year of the little kid stuff, and too dumb for 1st grade) prison sentence. Even in art class, even though I didn't know what flash was, that's the kind of stuff I would draw. I used to be a bad kid. Anything I could think to do I would. Took me a long time to realize that my Mom, one of the five best women I know, had raised me with manners. Like to 27!
I got a DUI. I liked to play two hand tag. Stay out late with the boys and I got my first ink on my 18th birthday, the first in my family. My sister may have beaten me in tattoo numbers by now. I dunno.
These days though I try to take things slow, reason them out, and keep my head about me with a liberal dose of humor, much of which I pointed right back at me. I have a terrible temper that I try to control, and every now and again flares up big time. More often then not though it's for about five minutes, and then I have doughnut and some coffee and babble about the fierce look on Cap Coleman's mug, or how on my 10th birthday all I wanted was a Gameboy. That same day Paul Rodgers passed away and now I'd sell my left hand (yeah, I'm a lefty. Bad genes. I know. I know...) for a honest to goodness J frame or Mad Bee.
Might just have to make it myself, ja?
I'm currently learning German, and as well, even though I have no business doing it, I'm drawing with my best bro, who has recorded much of my music and puts up with my pique, and plays mean drums and keys, and he's into the idea of tattooing now too. We're learning from each other, bouncing ideas back and forth, delving into all sorts of dark corners of this "black art".
Um... hmmm. I like animals. I hope one day someone asks me for a sheep tattoo rather then a wolf. My sister is 100 times the artist I am. She can paint! I'm just rocking the high end of bum, the lowest bottom man on the pyramid of greatness. If I can pull myself up to just being a solid worker, I'll feel pretty good.
I expect nothing, but I will show all of you respect, and will do my best to help, inspire (such as I can), prod, poke and joke all of you, be you artist or client, into being better then me.
Which certainly won't be hard for you all.
All the best, and I mean it!
-Gloomy Gus
PS- Trust yourself in everything and you can't lose.

Hello. Gloomy here making my entrance. Tattooing, on and off since I was 22. Seriously for about three years now. Much more to learn of course, but I'm not one to have a big head. I'm very much into the "old masters" although people like Paul Booth, Caleb Morgan, and many more I can't think of at this early hour for me.
I'm writing as well as gearing up to start a shop here in Central Florida, although there are so many fine artists here, truly, that I'm humbled every day to see fine work, and being my worst critic, strive to do the best work I can.
I'm pretty gregarious. I'll pull a hunk of pork chop out of my mouth, put my beer down, and run after an old guy or gal on the off chance that they'll tell me about an old green one. The wonderful thing about tattooing that I feel sometimes we miss is that we're artists, we have more in common than not. There is room for everyone, it isn't going to die. Sure, the art will on skin, as we all have a shelf life. The flash, the machines, the crazy, scary, and down right funny stories (and what is up with the old time guys and monkeys? My grandfather had one once, terrible stories he told me, and every time I hear about an artist with a monkey I brace myself for something worse) that bind us, rather then tear us apart.
It's not us against us, no matter what the back biting of the current and past maybe. For me it's balance always. I'm a 'mersh artist, I just happen to be one with a really friggin' cool jobby job. You can't go swimming without getting wet, so I put on my mask and snorkel and dive deep into as much of the art, the history of it, and the mechanics as I can. From making machines, tuning (things I'll admit I'm getting better at, but still I'm way lame), to cutting acetates, to dealing with people of all walks as we do these days, to taking classes with the retired folks at the library on watercolors. My goal is not to be the best, as Stoney St. Clair (a true inspiration when I'm feeling burned out) said, "Just as good as the rest."
Sometimes I get asked what I do best. My answer is simple: clean, quality work. You walk away happy, smiling, and without a fatal liver disease.
I do have other interests too. I love to write, and I'm doing some tattoo history research, albeit slowly, as well as working on a novel about tattooing, revenge, and redemption set right before world war two. I'm a big US Civil War buff. I've played music since I was 12 and have not let up on that either.
Somehow, I even find time to be with my stunning woman, who I have no idea what she sees in me.
All that aside I have a bit of the rebel in me. I hated school from the first day of kindergarden. It was a 14 year (I wasn't held back, but I was too big for another year of the little kid stuff, and too dumb for 1st grade) prison sentence. Even in art class, even though I didn't know what flash was, that's the kind of stuff I would draw. I used to be a bad kid. Anything I could think to do I would. Took me a long time to realize that my Mom, one of the five best women I know, had raised me with manners. Like to 27!
I got a DUI. I liked to play two hand tag. Stay out late with the boys and I got my first ink on my 18th birthday, the first in my family. My sister may have beaten me in tattoo numbers by now. I dunno.
These days though I try to take things slow, reason them out, and keep my head about me with a liberal dose of humor, much of which I pointed right back at me. I have a terrible temper that I try to control, and every now and again flares up big time. More often then not though it's for about five minutes, and then I have doughnut and some coffee and babble about the fierce look on Cap Coleman's mug, or how on my 10th birthday all I wanted was a Gameboy. That same day Paul Rodgers passed away and now I'd sell my left hand (yeah, I'm a lefty. Bad genes. I know. I know...) for a honest to goodness J frame or Mad Bee.
Might just have to make it myself, ja?
I'm currently learning German, and as well, even though I have no business doing it, I'm drawing with my best bro, who has recorded much of my music and puts up with my pique, and plays mean drums and keys, and he's into the idea of tattooing now too. We're learning from each other, bouncing ideas back and forth, delving into all sorts of dark corners of this "black art".
Um... hmmm. I like animals. I hope one day someone asks me for a sheep tattoo rather then a wolf. My sister is 100 times the artist I am. She can paint! I'm just rocking the high end of bum, the lowest bottom man on the pyramid of greatness. If I can pull myself up to just being a solid worker, I'll feel pretty good.
I expect nothing, but I will show all of you respect, and will do my best to help, inspire (such as I can), prod, poke and joke all of you, be you artist or client, into being better then me.
Which certainly won't be hard for you all.
All the best, and I mean it!
-Gloomy Gus
PS- Trust yourself in everything and you can't lose.

Hello. Gloomy here making my entrance. Tattooing, on and off since I was 22. Seriously for about three years now. Much more to learn of course, but I'm not one to have a big head. I'm very much into the "old masters" although people like Paul Booth, Caleb Morgan, and many more I can't think of at this early hour for me.
I'm writing as well as gearing up to start a shop here in Central Florida, although there are so many fine artists here, truly, that I'm humbled every day to see fine work, and being my worst critic, strive to do the best work I can.
I'm pretty gregarious. I'll pull a hunk of pork chop out of my mouth, put my beer down, and run after an old guy or gal on the off chance that they'll tell me about an old green one. The wonderful thing about tattooing that I feel sometimes we miss is that we're artists, we have more in common than not. There is room for everyone, it isn't going to die. Sure, the art will on skin, as we all have a shelf life. The flash, the machines, the crazy, scary, and down right funny stories (and what is up with the old time guys and monkeys? My grandfather had one once, terrible stories he told me, and every time I hear about an artist with a monkey I brace myself for something worse) that bind us, rather then tear us apart.
It's not us against us, no matter what the back biting of the current and past maybe. For me it's balance always. I'm a 'mersh artist, I just happen to be one with a really friggin' cool jobby job. You can't go swimming without getting wet, so I put on my mask and snorkel and dive deep into as much of the art, the history of it, and the mechanics as I can. From making machines, tuning (things I'll admit I'm getting better at, but still I'm way lame), to cutting acetates, to dealing with people of all walks as we do these days, to taking classes with the retired folks at the library on watercolors. My goal is not to be the best, as Stoney St. Clair (a true inspiration when I'm feeling burned out) said, "Just as good as the rest."
Sometimes I get asked what I do best. My answer is simple: clean, quality work. You walk away happy, smiling, and without a fatal liver disease.
I do have other interests too. I love to write, and I'm doing some tattoo history research, albeit slowly, as well as working on a novel about tattooing, revenge, and redemption set right before world war two. I'm a big US Civil War buff. I've played music since I was 12 and have not let up on that either.
Somehow, I even find time to be with my stunning woman, who I have no idea what she sees in me.
All that aside I have a bit of the rebel in me. I hated school from the first day of kindergarden. It was a 14 year (I wasn't held back, but I was too big for another year of the little kid stuff, and too dumb for 1st grade) prison sentence. Even in art class, even though I didn't know what flash was, that's the kind of stuff I would draw. I used to be a bad kid. Anything I could think to do I would. Took me a long time to realize that my Mom, one of the five best women I know, had raised me with manners. Like to 27!
I got a DUI. I liked to play two hand tag. Stay out late with the boys and I got my first ink on my 18th birthday, the first in my family. My sister may have beaten me in tattoo numbers by now. I dunno.
These days though I try to take things slow, reason them out, and keep my head about me with a liberal dose of humor, much of which I pointed right back at me. I have a terrible temper that I try to control, and every now and again flares up big time. More often then not though it's for about five minutes, and then I have doughnut and some coffee and babble about the fierce look on Cap Coleman's mug, or how on my 10th birthday all I wanted was a Gameboy. That same day Paul Rodgers passed away and now I'd sell my left hand (yeah, I'm a lefty. Bad genes. I know. I know...) for a honest to goodness J frame or Mad Bee.
Might just have to make it myself, ja?
I'm currently learning German, and as well, even though I have no business doing it, I'm drawing with my best bro, who has recorded much of my music and puts up with my pique, and plays mean drums and keys, and he's into the idea of tattooing now too. We're learning from each other, bouncing ideas back and forth, delving into all sorts of dark corners of this "black art".
Um... hmmm. I like animals. I hope one day someone asks me for a sheep tattoo rather then a wolf. My sister is 100 times the artist I am. She can paint! I'm just rocking the high end of bum, the lowest bottom man on the pyramid of greatness. If I can pull myself up to just being a solid worker, I'll feel pretty good.
I expect nothing, but I will show all of you respect, and will do my best to help, inspire (such as I can), prod, poke and joke all of you, be you artist or client, into being better then me.
Which certainly won't be hard for you all.
All the best, and I mean it!
-Gloomy Gus
PS- Trust yourself in everything and you can't lose.

Hello. Gloomy here making my entrance. Tattooing, on and off since I was 22. Seriously for about three years now. Much more to learn of course, but I'm not one to have a big head. I'm very much into the "old masters" although people like Paul Booth, Caleb Morgan, and many more I can't think of at this early hour for me.
I'm writing as well as gearing up to start a shop here in Central Florida, although there are so many fine artists here, truly, that I'm humbled every day to see fine work, and being my worst critic, strive to do the best work I can.
I'm pretty gregarious. I'll pull a hunk of pork chop out of my mouth, put my beer down, and run after an old guy or gal on the off chance that they'll tell me about an old green one. The wonderful thing about tattooing that I feel sometimes we miss is that we're artists, we have more in common than not. There is room for everyone, it isn't going to die. Sure, the art will on skin, as we all have a shelf life. The flash, the machines, the crazy, scary, and down right funny stories (and what is up with the old time guys and monkeys? My grandfather had one once, terrible stories he told me, and every time I hear about an artist with a monkey I brace myself for something worse) that bind us, rather then tear us apart.
It's not us against us, no matter what the back biting of the current and past maybe. For me it's balance always. I'm a 'mersh artist, I just happen to be one with a really friggin' cool jobby job. You can't go swimming without getting wet, so I put on my mask and snorkel and dive deep into as much of the art, the history of it, and the mechanics as I can. From making machines, tuning (things I'll admit I'm getting better at, but still I'm way lame), to cutting acetates, to dealing with people of all walks as we do these days, to taking classes with the retired folks at the library on watercolors. My goal is not to be the best, as Stoney St. Clair (a true inspiration when I'm feeling burned out) said, "Just as good as the rest."
Sometimes I get asked what I do best. My answer is simple: clean, quality work. You walk away happy, smiling, and without a fatal liver disease.
I do have other interests too. I love to write, and I'm doing some tattoo history research, albeit slowly, as well as working on a novel about tattooing, revenge, and redemption set right before world war two. I'm a big US Civil War buff. I've played music since I was 12 and have not let up on that either.
Somehow, I even find time to be with my stunning woman, who I have no idea what she sees in me.
All that aside I have a bit of the rebel in me. I hated school from the first day of kindergarden. It was a 14 year (I wasn't held back, but I was too big for another year of the little kid stuff, and too dumb for 1st grade) prison sentence. Even in art class, even though I didn't know what flash was, that's the kind of stuff I would draw. I used to be a bad kid. Anything I could think to do I would. Took me a long time to realize that my Mom, one of the five best women I know, had raised me with manners. Like to 27!
I got a DUI. I liked to play two hand tag. Stay out late with the boys and I got my first ink on my 18th birthday, the first in my family. My sister may have beaten me in tattoo numbers by now. I dunno.
These days though I try to take things slow, reason them out, and keep my head about me with a liberal dose of humor, much of which I pointed right back at me. I have a terrible temper that I try to control, and every now and again flares up big time. More often then not though it's for about five minutes, and then I have doughnut and some coffee and babble about the fierce look on Cap Coleman's mug, or how on my 10th birthday all I wanted was a Gameboy. That same day Paul Rodgers passed away and now I'd sell my left hand (yeah, I'm a lefty. Bad genes. I know. I know...) for a honest to goodness J frame or Mad Bee.
Might just have to make it myself, ja?
I'm currently learning German, and as well, even though I have no business doing it, I'm drawing with my best bro, who has recorded much of my music and puts up with my pique, and plays mean drums and keys, and he's into the idea of tattooing now too. We're learning from each other, bouncing ideas back and forth, delving into all sorts of dark corners of this "black art".
Um... hmmm. I like animals. I hope one day someone asks me for a sheep tattoo rather then a wolf. My sister is 100 times the artist I am. She can paint! I'm just rocking the high end of bum, the lowest bottom man on the pyramid of greatness. If I can pull myself up to just being a solid worker, I'll feel pretty good.
I expect nothing, but I will show all of you respect, and will do my best to help, inspire (such as I can), prod, poke and joke all of you, be you artist or client, into being better then me.
Which certainly won't be hard for you all.
All the best, and I mean it!
-Gloomy Gus
PS- Trust yourself in everything and you can't lose.

Hello. Gloomy here making my entrance. Tattooing, on and off since I was 22. Seriously for about three years now. Much more to learn of course, but I'm not one to have a big head. I'm very much into the "old masters" although people like Paul Booth, Caleb Morgan, and many more I can't think of at this early hour for me.
I'm writing as well as gearing up to start a shop here in Central Florida, although there are so many fine artists here, truly, that I'm humbled every day to see fine work, and being my worst critic, strive to do the best work I can.
I'm pretty gregarious. I'll pull a hunk of pork chop out of my mouth, put my beer down, and run after an old guy or gal on the off chance that they'll tell me about an old green one. The wonderful thing about tattooing that I feel sometimes we miss is that we're artists, we have more in common than not. There is room for everyone, it isn't going to die. Sure, the art will on skin, as we all have a shelf life. The flash, the machines, the crazy, scary, and down right funny stories (and what is up with the old time guys and monkeys? My grandfather had one once, terrible stories he told me, and every time I hear about an artist with a monkey I brace myself for something worse) that bind us, rather then tear us apart.
It's not us against us, no matter what the back biting of the current and past maybe. For me it's balance always. I'm a 'mersh artist, I just happen to be one with a really friggin' cool jobby job. You can't go swimming without getting wet, so I put on my mask and snorkel and dive deep into as much of the art, the history of it, and the mechanics as I can. From making machines, tuning (things I'll admit I'm getting better at, but still I'm way lame), to cutting acetates, to dealing with people of all walks as we do these days, to taking classes with the retired folks at the library on watercolors. My goal is not to be the best, as Stoney St. Clair (a true inspiration when I'm feeling burned out) said, "Just as good as the rest."
Sometimes I get asked what I do best. My answer is simple: clean, quality work. You walk away happy, smiling, and without a fatal liver disease.
I do have other interests too. I love to write, and I'm doing some tattoo history research, albeit slowly, as well as working on a novel about tattooing, revenge, and redemption set right before world war two. I'm a big US Civil War buff. I've played music since I was 12 and have not let up on that either.
Somehow, I even find time to be with my stunning woman, who I have no idea what she sees in me.
All that aside I have a bit of the rebel in me. I hated school from the first day of kindergarden. It was a 14 year (I wasn't held back, but I was too big for another year of the little kid stuff, and too dumb for 1st grade) prison sentence. Even in art class, even though I didn't know what flash was, that's the kind of stuff I would draw. I used to be a bad kid. Anything I could think to do I would. Took me a long time to realize that my Mom, one of the five best women I know, had raised me with manners. Like to 27!
I got a DUI. I liked to play two hand tag. Stay out late with the boys and I got my first ink on my 18th birthday, the first in my family. My sister may have beaten me in tattoo numbers by now. I dunno.
These days though I try to take things slow, reason them out, and keep my head about me with a liberal dose of humor, much of which I pointed right back at me. I have a terrible temper that I try to control, and every now and again flares up big time. More often then not though it's for about five minutes, and then I have doughnut and some coffee and babble about the fierce look on Cap Coleman's mug, or how on my 10th birthday all I wanted was a Gameboy. That same day Paul Rodgers passed away and now I'd sell my left hand (yeah, I'm a lefty. Bad genes. I know. I know...) for a honest to goodness J frame or Mad Bee.
Might just have to make it myself, ja?
I'm currently learning German, and as well, even though I have no business doing it, I'm drawing with my best bro, who has recorded much of my music and puts up with my pique, and plays mean drums and keys, and he's into the idea of tattooing now too. We're learning from each other, bouncing ideas back and forth, delving into all sorts of dark corners of this "black art".
Um... hmmm. I like animals. I hope one day someone asks me for a sheep tattoo rather then a wolf. My sister is 100 times the artist I am. She can paint! I'm just rocking the high end of bum, the lowest bottom man on the pyramid of greatness. If I can pull myself up to just being a solid worker, I'll feel pretty good.
I expect nothing, but I will show all of you respect, and will do my best to help, inspire (such as I can), prod, poke and joke all of you, be you artist or client, into being better then me.
Which certainly won't be hard for you all.
All the best, and I mean it!
-Gloomy Gus
PS- Trust yourself in everything and you can't lose.

Hello. Gloomy here making my entrance. Tattooing, on and off since I was 22. Seriously for about three years now. Much more to learn of course, but I'm not one to have a big head. I'm very much into the "old masters" although people like Paul Booth, Caleb Morgan, and many more I can't think of at this early hour for me.
I'm writing as well as gearing up to start a shop here in Central Florida, although there are so many fine artists here, truly, that I'm humbled every day to see fine work, and being my worst critic, strive to do the best work I can.
I'm pretty gregarious. I'll pull a hunk of pork chop out of my mouth, put my beer down, and run after an old guy or gal on the off chance that they'll tell me about an old green one. The wonderful thing about tattooing that I feel sometimes we miss is that we're artists, we have more in common than not. There is room for everyone, it isn't going to die. Sure, the art will on skin, as we all have a shelf life. The flash, the machines, the crazy, scary, and down right funny stories (and what is up with the old time guys and monkeys? My grandfather had one once, terrible stories he told me, and every time I hear about an artist with a monkey I brace myself for something worse) that bind us, rather then tear us apart.
It's not us against us, no matter what the back biting of the current and past maybe. For me it's balance always. I'm a 'mersh artist, I just happen to be one with a really friggin' cool jobby job. You can't go swimming without getting wet, so I put on my mask and snorkel and dive deep into as much of the art, the history of it, and the mechanics as I can. From making machines, tuning (things I'll admit I'm getting better at, but still I'm way lame), to cutting acetates, to dealing with people of all walks as we do these days, to taking classes with the retired folks at the library on watercolors. My goal is not to be the best, as Stoney St. Clair (a true inspiration when I'm feeling burned out) said, "Just as good as the rest."
Sometimes I get asked what I do best. My answer is simple: clean, quality work. You walk away happy, smiling, and without a fatal liver disease.
I do have other interests too. I love to write, and I'm doing some tattoo history research, albeit slowly, as well as working on a novel about tattooing, revenge, and redemption set right before world war two. I'm a big US Civil War buff. I've played music since I was 12 and have not let up on that either.
Somehow, I even find time to be with my stunning woman, who I have no idea what she sees in me.
All that aside I have a bit of the rebel in me. I hated school from the first day of kindergarden. It was a 14 year (I wasn't held back, but I was too big for another year of the little kid stuff, and too dumb for 1st grade) prison sentence. Even in art class, even though I didn't know what flash was, that's the kind of stuff I would draw. I used to be a bad kid. Anything I could think to do I would. Took me a long time to realize that my Mom, one of the five best women I know, had raised me with manners. Like to 27!
I got a DUI. I liked to play two hand tag. Stay out late with the boys and I got my first ink on my 18th birthday, the first in my family. My sister may have beaten me in tattoo numbers by now. I dunno.
These days though I try to take things slow, reason them out, and keep my head about me with a liberal dose of humor, much of which I pointed right back at me. I have a terrible temper that I try to control, and every now and again flares up big time. More often then not though it's for about five minutes, and then I have doughnut and some coffee and babble about the fierce look on Cap Coleman's mug, or how on my 10th birthday all I wanted was a Gameboy. That same day Paul Rodgers passed away and now I'd sell my left hand (yeah, I'm a lefty. Bad genes. I know. I know...) for a honest to goodness J frame or Mad Bee.
Might just have to make it myself, ja?
I'm currently learning German, and as well, even though I have no business doing it, I'm drawing with my best bro, who has recorded much of my music and puts up with my pique, and plays mean drums and keys, and he's into the idea of tattooing now too. We're learning from each other, bouncing ideas back and forth, delving into all sorts of dark corners of this "black art".
Um... hmmm. I like animals. I hope one day someone asks me for a sheep tattoo rather then a wolf. My sister is 100 times the artist I am. She can paint! I'm just rocking the high end of bum, the lowest bottom man on the pyramid of greatness. If I can pull myself up to just being a solid worker, I'll feel pretty good.
I expect nothing, but I will show all of you respect, and will do my best to help, inspire (such as I can), prod, poke and joke all of you, be you artist or client, into being better then me.
Which certainly won't be hard for you all.
All the best, and I mean it!
-Gloomy Gus
PS- Trust yourself in everything and you can't lose.

Just thought I would say thanks to all that are pulling for me. As to Myles, dude, I hear you, however I like to think that people here, tattooers, collectors, all of us, have something together that people who don't wear tattoos will never have. Hey, people may look at me like I'm sick, but I just make 'em laugh. Determination can do wonders for you, and nothing can focus the mind like the thought of your own demise.
And hey, you only get the one go round, no one gets to be here for the whole time, and you gotta make the best of what time you have, use it. That's why I'm looking into starting my own machine company. Nothing pretty, but all US made, coils and all. Brass no less too!
To else, here is my abridged bucket list:
1. Marry my woman.
2. Start and finish my back piece (from an 1860s photo of a female Samurai)
3. Make machines and tattoo as long as I can.
4. Visit Norway and Germany. Norway is where my Grandfather, now 91, is from.
5. Finish my books I've been writing.
6. Make amends with those in my family and old friends who have not gotten along with.
7. Tell the rest of the mo-fos to eat cat poop.
....
Y'all get the idea.

Hello. Gloomy here making my entrance. Tattooing, on and off since I was 22. Seriously for about three years now. Much more to learn of course, but I'm not one to have a big head. I'm very much into the "old masters" although people like Paul Booth, Caleb Morgan, and many more I can't think of at this early hour for me.
I'm writing as well as gearing up to start a shop here in Central Florida, although there are so many fine artists here, truly, that I'm humbled every day to see fine work, and being my worst critic, strive to do the best work I can.
I'm pretty gregarious. I'll pull a hunk of pork chop out of my mouth, put my beer down, and run after an old guy or gal on the off chance that they'll tell me about an old green one. The wonderful thing about tattooing that I feel sometimes we miss is that we're artists, we have more in common than not. There is room for everyone, it isn't going to die. Sure, the art will on skin, as we all have a shelf life. The flash, the machines, the crazy, scary, and down right funny stories (and what is up with the old time guys and monkeys? My grandfather had one once, terrible stories he told me, and every time I hear about an artist with a monkey I brace myself for something worse) that bind us, rather then tear us apart.
It's not us against us, no matter what the back biting of the current and past maybe. For me it's balance always. I'm a 'mersh artist, I just happen to be one with a really friggin' cool jobby job. You can't go swimming without getting wet, so I put on my mask and snorkel and dive deep into as much of the art, the history of it, and the mechanics as I can. From making machines, tuning (things I'll admit I'm getting better at, but still I'm way lame), to cutting acetates, to dealing with people of all walks as we do these days, to taking classes with the retired folks at the library on watercolors. My goal is not to be the best, as Stoney St. Clair (a true inspiration when I'm feeling burned out) said, "Just as good as the rest."
Sometimes I get asked what I do best. My answer is simple: clean, quality work. You walk away happy, smiling, and without a fatal liver disease.
I do have other interests too. I love to write, and I'm doing some tattoo history research, albeit slowly, as well as working on a novel about tattooing, revenge, and redemption set right before world war two. I'm a big US Civil War buff. I've played music since I was 12 and have not let up on that either.
Somehow, I even find time to be with my stunning woman, who I have no idea what she sees in me.
All that aside I have a bit of the rebel in me. I hated school from the first day of kindergarden. It was a 14 year (I wasn't held back, but I was too big for another year of the little kid stuff, and too dumb for 1st grade) prison sentence. Even in art class, even though I didn't know what flash was, that's the kind of stuff I would draw. I used to be a bad kid. Anything I could think to do I would. Took me a long time to realize that my Mom, one of the five best women I know, had raised me with manners. Like to 27!
I got a DUI. I liked to play two hand tag. Stay out late with the boys and I got my first ink on my 18th birthday, the first in my family. My sister may have beaten me in tattoo numbers by now. I dunno.
These days though I try to take things slow, reason them out, and keep my head about me with a liberal dose of humor, much of which I pointed right back at me. I have a terrible temper that I try to control, and every now and again flares up big time. More often then not though it's for about five minutes, and then I have doughnut and some coffee and babble about the fierce look on Cap Coleman's mug, or how on my 10th birthday all I wanted was a Gameboy. That same day Paul Rodgers passed away and now I'd sell my left hand (yeah, I'm a lefty. Bad genes. I know. I know...) for a honest to goodness J frame or Mad Bee.
Might just have to make it myself, ja?
I'm currently learning German, and as well, even though I have no business doing it, I'm drawing with my best bro, who has recorded much of my music and puts up with my pique, and plays mean drums and keys, and he's into the idea of tattooing now too. We're learning from each other, bouncing ideas back and forth, delving into all sorts of dark corners of this "black art".
Um... hmmm. I like animals. I hope one day someone asks me for a sheep tattoo rather then a wolf. My sister is 100 times the artist I am. She can paint! I'm just rocking the high end of bum, the lowest bottom man on the pyramid of greatness. If I can pull myself up to just being a solid worker, I'll feel pretty good.
I expect nothing, but I will show all of you respect, and will do my best to help, inspire (such as I can), prod, poke and joke all of you, be you artist or client, into being better then me.
Which certainly won't be hard for you all.
All the best, and I mean it!
-Gloomy Gus
PS- Trust yourself in everything and you can't lose.

Hello. Gloomy here making my entrance. Tattooing, on and off since I was 22. Seriously for about three years now. Much more to learn of course, but I'm not one to have a big head. I'm very much into the "old masters" although people like Paul Booth, Caleb Morgan, and many more I can't think of at this early hour for me.
I'm writing as well as gearing up to start a shop here in Central Florida, although there are so many fine artists here, truly, that I'm humbled every day to see fine work, and being my worst critic, strive to do the best work I can.
I'm pretty gregarious. I'll pull a hunk of pork chop out of my mouth, put my beer down, and run after an old guy or gal on the off chance that they'll tell me about an old green one. The wonderful thing about tattooing that I feel sometimes we miss is that we're artists, we have more in common than not. There is room for everyone, it isn't going to die. Sure, the art will on skin, as we all have a shelf life. The flash, the machines, the crazy, scary, and down right funny stories (and what is up with the old time guys and monkeys? My grandfather had one once, terrible stories he told me, and every time I hear about an artist with a monkey I brace myself for something worse) that bind us, rather then tear us apart.
It's not us against us, no matter what the back biting of the current and past maybe. For me it's balance always. I'm a 'mersh artist, I just happen to be one with a really friggin' cool jobby job. You can't go swimming without getting wet, so I put on my mask and snorkel and dive deep into as much of the art, the history of it, and the mechanics as I can. From making machines, tuning (things I'll admit I'm getting better at, but still I'm way lame), to cutting acetates, to dealing with people of all walks as we do these days, to taking classes with the retired folks at the library on watercolors. My goal is not to be the best, as Stoney St. Clair (a true inspiration when I'm feeling burned out) said, "Just as good as the rest."
Sometimes I get asked what I do best. My answer is simple: clean, quality work. You walk away happy, smiling, and without a fatal liver disease.
I do have other interests too. I love to write, and I'm doing some tattoo history research, albeit slowly, as well as working on a novel about tattooing, revenge, and redemption set right before world war two. I'm a big US Civil War buff. I've played music since I was 12 and have not let up on that either.
Somehow, I even find time to be with my stunning woman, who I have no idea what she sees in me.
All that aside I have a bit of the rebel in me. I hated school from the first day of kindergarden. It was a 14 year (I wasn't held back, but I was too big for another year of the little kid stuff, and too dumb for 1st grade) prison sentence. Even in art class, even though I didn't know what flash was, that's the kind of stuff I would draw. I used to be a bad kid. Anything I could think to do I would. Took me a long time to realize that my Mom, one of the five best women I know, had raised me with manners. Like to 27!
I got a DUI. I liked to play two hand tag. Stay out late with the boys and I got my first ink on my 18th birthday, the first in my family. My sister may have beaten me in tattoo numbers by now. I dunno.
These days though I try to take things slow, reason them out, and keep my head about me with a liberal dose of humor, much of which I pointed right back at me. I have a terrible temper that I try to control, and every now and again flares up big time. More often then not though it's for about five minutes, and then I have doughnut and some coffee and babble about the fierce look on Cap Coleman's mug, or how on my 10th birthday all I wanted was a Gameboy. That same day Paul Rodgers passed away and now I'd sell my left hand (yeah, I'm a lefty. Bad genes. I know. I know...) for a honest to goodness J frame or Mad Bee.
Might just have to make it myself, ja?
I'm currently learning German, and as well, even though I have no business doing it, I'm drawing with my best bro, who has recorded much of my music and puts up with my pique, and plays mean drums and keys, and he's into the idea of tattooing now too. We're learning from each other, bouncing ideas back and forth, delving into all sorts of dark corners of this "black art".
Um... hmmm. I like animals. I hope one day someone asks me for a sheep tattoo rather then a wolf. My sister is 100 times the artist I am. She can paint! I'm just rocking the high end of bum, the lowest bottom man on the pyramid of greatness. If I can pull myself up to just being a solid worker, I'll feel pretty good.
I expect nothing, but I will show all of you respect, and will do my best to help, inspire (such as I can), prod, poke and joke all of you, be you artist or client, into being better then me.
Which certainly won't be hard for you all.
All the best, and I mean it!
-Gloomy Gus
PS- Trust yourself in everything and you can't lose.

Hello. Gloomy here making my entrance. Tattooing, on and off since I was 22. Seriously for about three years now. Much more to learn of course, but I'm not one to have a big head. I'm very much into the "old masters" although people like Paul Booth, Caleb Morgan, and many more I can't think of at this early hour for me.
I'm writing as well as gearing up to start a shop here in Central Florida, although there are so many fine artists here, truly, that I'm humbled every day to see fine work, and being my worst critic, strive to do the best work I can.
I'm pretty gregarious. I'll pull a hunk of pork chop out of my mouth, put my beer down, and run after an old guy or gal on the off chance that they'll tell me about an old green one. The wonderful thing about tattooing that I feel sometimes we miss is that we're artists, we have more in common than not. There is room for everyone, it isn't going to die. Sure, the art will on skin, as we all have a shelf life. The flash, the machines, the crazy, scary, and down right funny stories (and what is up with the old time guys and monkeys? My grandfather had one once, terrible stories he told me, and every time I hear about an artist with a monkey I brace myself for something worse) that bind us, rather then tear us apart.
It's not us against us, no matter what the back biting of the current and past maybe. For me it's balance always. I'm a 'mersh artist, I just happen to be one with a really friggin' cool jobby job. You can't go swimming without getting wet, so I put on my mask and snorkel and dive deep into as much of the art, the history of it, and the mechanics as I can. From making machines, tuning (things I'll admit I'm getting better at, but still I'm way lame), to cutting acetates, to dealing with people of all walks as we do these days, to taking classes with the retired folks at the library on watercolors. My goal is not to be the best, as Stoney St. Clair (a true inspiration when I'm feeling burned out) said, "Just as good as the rest."
Sometimes I get asked what I do best. My answer is simple: clean, quality work. You walk away happy, smiling, and without a fatal liver disease.
I do have other interests too. I love to write, and I'm doing some tattoo history research, albeit slowly, as well as working on a novel about tattooing, revenge, and redemption set right before world war two. I'm a big US Civil War buff. I've played music since I was 12 and have not let up on that either.
Somehow, I even find time to be with my stunning woman, who I have no idea what she sees in me.
All that aside I have a bit of the rebel in me. I hated school from the first day of kindergarden. It was a 14 year (I wasn't held back, but I was too big for another year of the little kid stuff, and too dumb for 1st grade) prison sentence. Even in art class, even though I didn't know what flash was, that's the kind of stuff I would draw. I used to be a bad kid. Anything I could think to do I would. Took me a long time to realize that my Mom, one of the five best women I know, had raised me with manners. Like to 27!
I got a DUI. I liked to play two hand tag. Stay out late with the boys and I got my first ink on my 18th birthday, the first in my family. My sister may have beaten me in tattoo numbers by now. I dunno.
These days though I try to take things slow, reason them out, and keep my head about me with a liberal dose of humor, much of which I pointed right back at me. I have a terrible temper that I try to control, and every now and again flares up big time. More often then not though it's for about five minutes, and then I have doughnut and some coffee and babble about the fierce look on Cap Coleman's mug, or how on my 10th birthday all I wanted was a Gameboy. That same day Paul Rodgers passed away and now I'd sell my left hand (yeah, I'm a lefty. Bad genes. I know. I know...) for a honest to goodness J frame or Mad Bee.
Might just have to make it myself, ja?
I'm currently learning German, and as well, even though I have no business doing it, I'm drawing with my best bro, who has recorded much of my music and puts up with my pique, and plays mean drums and keys, and he's into the idea of tattooing now too. We're learning from each other, bouncing ideas back and forth, delving into all sorts of dark corners of this "black art".
Um... hmmm. I like animals. I hope one day someone asks me for a sheep tattoo rather then a wolf. My sister is 100 times the artist I am. She can paint! I'm just rocking the high end of bum, the lowest bottom man on the pyramid of greatness. If I can pull myself up to just being a solid worker, I'll feel pretty good.
I expect nothing, but I will show all of you respect, and will do my best to help, inspire (such as I can), prod, poke and joke all of you, be you artist or client, into being better then me.
Which certainly won't be hard for you all.
All the best, and I mean it!
-Gloomy Gus
PS- Trust yourself in everything and you can't lose.

Just thought I would say thanks to all that are pulling for me. As to Myles, dude, I hear you, however I like to think that people here, tattooers, collectors, all of us, have something together that people who don't wear tattoos will never have. Hey, people may look at me like I'm sick, but I just make 'em laugh. Determination can do wonders for you, and nothing can focus the mind like the thought of your own demise.
And hey, you only get the one go round, no one gets to be here for the whole time, and you gotta make the best of what time you have, use it. That's why I'm looking into starting my own machine company. Nothing pretty, but all US made, coils and all. Brass no less too!
To else, here is my abridged bucket list:
1. Marry my woman.
2. Start and finish my back piece (from an 1860s photo of a female Samurai)
3. Make machines and tattoo as long as I can.
4. Visit Norway and Germany. Norway is where my Grandfather, now 91, is from.
5. Finish my books I've been writing.
6. Make amends with those in my family and old friends who have not gotten along with.
7. Tell the rest of the mo-fos to eat cat poop.
....
Y'all get the idea.

Just thought I would say thanks to all that are pulling for me. As to Myles, dude, I hear you, however I like to think that people here, tattooers, collectors, all of us, have something together that people who don't wear tattoos will never have. Hey, people may look at me like I'm sick, but I just make 'em laugh. Determination can do wonders for you, and nothing can focus the mind like the thought of your own demise.
And hey, you only get the one go round, no one gets to be here for the whole time, and you gotta make the best of what time you have, use it. That's why I'm looking into starting my own machine company. Nothing pretty, but all US made, coils and all. Brass no less too!
To else, here is my abridged bucket list:
1. Marry my woman.
2. Start and finish my back piece (from an 1860s photo of a female Samurai)
3. Make machines and tattoo as long as I can.
4. Visit Norway and Germany. Norway is where my Grandfather, now 91, is from.
5. Finish my books I've been writing.
6. Make amends with those in my family and old friends who have not gotten along with.
7. Tell the rest of the mo-fos to eat cat poop.
....
Y'all get the idea.

Just thought I would say thanks to all that are pulling for me. As to Myles, dude, I hear you, however I like to think that people here, tattooers, collectors, all of us, have something together that people who don't wear tattoos will never have. Hey, people may look at me like I'm sick, but I just make 'em laugh. Determination can do wonders for you, and nothing can focus the mind like the thought of your own demise.
And hey, you only get the one go round, no one gets to be here for the whole time, and you gotta make the best of what time you have, use it. That's why I'm looking into starting my own machine company. Nothing pretty, but all US made, coils and all. Brass no less too!
To else, here is my abridged bucket list:
1. Marry my woman.
2. Start and finish my back piece (from an 1860s photo of a female Samurai)
3. Make machines and tattoo as long as I can.
4. Visit Norway and Germany. Norway is where my Grandfather, now 91, is from.
5. Finish my books I've been writing.
6. Make amends with those in my family and old friends who have not gotten along with.
7. Tell the rest of the mo-fos to eat cat poop.
....
Y'all get the idea.

OK. You got me now. You ride? What does it take to ride as a tourist there? I've always been slightly scared of Australia, what with the snakes, spiders, those worms that bite the soles of you feet, the dingos... and those kangaroos. I'm scared of 'em I mean, you think, "Oh how cute!"
Then they pummel you, take your money and shove it in their pockets and VOOOOOM! Gone.

Nicely put. When ya put it out there, ya sometimes think...fuck! kick ya toe, why did I do that for! but that summary @Gloomy Inks nails it as to why I kinda took a punt to throw some shit in as well.
Yeah, we don't know exactly what we're dealing with on line at the best of times, but I kinda feel we're in pretty good company here. I only fit in with one type of people, our kinda people.
Dudes I'll probably never ever meet in person here have still pointed me in the direction in sourcing out shit for my bikes and stuff. Taken the time to send a PM to steer me in the right direction. That's genuine shit, so I'm just being genuine back. @Gloomy Inks again, you got a real good disposition with your shit man. I was reading your blog, and that's strength brother! You have much more than most going on dude.
Sweet.
Oh, and if ya ever on the East Coast of Aus. Let me know, my shout at the bar.

Look on the bright side- do you know how famous The Elephant Man is?
But seriously.
Dude this is horrible, you can get legions on your eyes and become blind, your bones can warp and break and never mend themselves, limbs grow misshapen and alien, it can even mutate into cancer. I've never even heard of something so awful. Have any symptoms arisen yet? If so, what are they? That really really sucks man- but now is the time to do everything you've always wanted. Live an adventure. Travel with only a backpack to foreign countries and live the life of a vagabond seeing the world and meeting people. I'm not saying you better fulfill your bucket list- but you have got to Live man.

Dude...
That sucks.
My sister has a whole bunch of the cafe au lait spots and we've always wondered if that's what she has. So far so good for her though.
I have my own incurable thing... I've posted about it some, and it's actually what led me here in the first place.
The way I look at it is this - there are no guarantees at all. I could step off the curb and get hit by a bus tomorrow. "now" is all you can count on. I try my best to fully inhabit "now".
The future is fuck scary. The past, it's gone. I want every moment I have to be as happy and good as possible, so I focus on the good, attend to the things that make me happy, and try to let all the rest of it go.

I just want to say that I read this thread now and then and my heart just sinks. I appreciate that this is a place where many of you feel comfortable sharing some of what you're going through, and I only hope that it offers you some measure of relief and comfort to know that many of us are thinking of you, and all of us are pulling for you

@Gloomy Inks I'm really sorry. It appears you have great strength in the face of that which would derail others, I wish you a pain free journey as you tackle the road ahead.

The machine I use that was put together by Tony Polito and Richie Montgomery has no cap and the one Tony used on me a week and a half ago had no cap!
I am going to be replacing a front spring soon on mine though.......those who know will understand.....and those who don't "get why" don't need to know!
Machine runs like a dream and is one of my two main shaders I use!

Actually I was just out, talking to the super in the building. He can get me rats, but according to Health Dept. regs here they're fine to use in a wheel power supply, but I have to run chords from the dirty room.

Gee, I thought my not using O rings was "old school". Can anyone give me the number and address of a hamster trainer?

I got my first apprenticeship when I was 18 and had no idea what I was doing. (Funny, now I just don't know, but I know what I'm doing) I paid $1800 to a man and his wife who shall remain nameless. I'm drawing, cutting stencils, and all that stuff. They seemed like good folks. A little sleazy, but I was sorta sleazy then too.
I never got to tattoo in that shop either. Four months in...
I got to the shop Tuesday (closed Sun/Monday), early as always and stand around for a few hours. There was a pizza place across the street and I sit down and have a few .89 cent slices, and end up walking in the AC repair company office next door. I ask if they had seen them.
It was said that there was an attempted armed robbery on Saturday night after I left at nine, and _________ had shot the guy.
Turns out to be total BS. The wife, who worked there as well, had found out her husband was getting really good "tips" from dancers and had gone to town on his gear, pulled a knife on him, and scared him right out of the state.
Not my place to speak of others infidelities, but I'd signed a contract! And with that his Harley, with the blown head gasket that was oft used by all of us as a bench to sit on while we smoked cigarettes (have to give it to them, it was still the Speed Stick days, but they had a no smoking policy in the shop) disappeared as if into thin air.
I still that bike once and while... with him NOT on it. I have no idea what happened to these people but ___________ still owes me sleeves.

I got my first apprenticeship when I was 18 and had no idea what I was doing. (Funny, now I just don't know, but I know what I'm doing) I paid $1800 to a man and his wife who shall remain nameless. I'm drawing, cutting stencils, and all that stuff. They seemed like good folks. A little sleazy, but I was sorta sleazy then too.
I never got to tattoo in that shop either. Four months in...
I got to the shop Tuesday (closed Sun/Monday), early as always and stand around for a few hours. There was a pizza place across the street and I sit down and have a few .89 cent slices, and end up walking in the AC repair company office next door. I ask if they had seen them.
It was said that there was an attempted armed robbery on Saturday night after I left at nine, and _________ had shot the guy.
Turns out to be total BS. The wife, who worked there as well, had found out her husband was getting really good "tips" from dancers and had gone to town on his gear, pulled a knife on him, and scared him right out of the state.
Not my place to speak of others infidelities, but I'd signed a contract! And with that his Harley, with the blown head gasket that was oft used by all of us as a bench to sit on while we smoked cigarettes (have to give it to them, it was still the Speed Stick days, but they had a no smoking policy in the shop) disappeared as if into thin air.
I still that bike once and while... with him NOT on it. I have no idea what happened to these people but ___________ still owes me sleeves.