In the mid 80s, folks started getting tattoos. It reminded me of early childhood; hotrodders and gearheads had tattoos, some guys back from Vietnam had big or elaborate tattoos. They were nice, but never interested me.

But all of a sudden, people around me were getting them. Nothing fancy, and nothing like the macho thing it was in the 60s. Even one of my cuddly housemates had gotten some sort of icky-cute thing on her arm.

I have one. Sort of.

One day, I was wearing an old t-shirt from a restaurant where I used to work, given to me - off his back, after I'd torn mine in the kitchen - by one of my bosses, an imposing-looking but gentle man of 6'8" who must have known my liking for oversized shirts. An old roommate said, out of nowhere, "Hey, man! Lemme give you a tattoo!" He grabbed a magic marker and scrawled a stick-figure spider on one of the sleeves; no doubt, in his state of mind at the time, it had some sort of occult significance. I'm pretty sure it hasn't washed out yet.

So that's my tattoo.

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