the beginning of the end

in 99 or 00, a shitload (8) of us homeys went down to do drugs, i mean check out differing cultures in the mean mountains of peru. we did it all; inca trail, pisco sours, bullwhips, buying hookers with sets of spitfires, running for lives (thanks cusco fake drug dealers), stds, missing trains, armadillo shell guitars, no guinea pigs, elevation sickness = spleen expansion, and tattoos. i got this one in a bar in cusco i think. this bar had a cleaned out broom closet just big enough for 2 bodies, a chair and tons of broke english. thread needles together, cook said needles in easy bake oven, and pour purple kool-aid bruisingly deep into some pinche tourists’ arm. the best part was the in-assault movie. see, everything in cusco doubles as some other shit. homeless lady beggar was also a pus-poop emitter, so as this bar was a theater by day. i watched fight club on this day of my tattoo inception, through the ramshackle broom closet/parlor doorway, in subtitles. read(english speaking movie with spanish scribble written at the bottom)  s o c k s . lorne magill foto