I get a lot of people asking for some really rad shit, and then others who I feel are gettin a little ahead of themselves.

Face tats: think twice. mmkay?

I’m not claiming by any means that I’m through learning, that’s not what I mean even in the slightest. I’m just saying that I did the streetshop thing for a good stretch, right on the infamous Yonge St. strip here in downtown fo’ one six. And let me tell you, I tattooed some of the most interesting characters all doin an excellent job of reflecting the varying array of “human life’ out there found in the cold streets of this cut throatconcrete jungle. The pimps, gangstas, strippers, scenesters, under-aged (thank you’s to the counter staff for enforcing a “strict” carding policy, nuff slipped by.), military dudes, the elderly, mamas and papas, cancer survivors, recovering junkies, you name it. I’ve got a few stories, and just like my collection of ink, I’d like to keep adding to that repertoire.

Now, for the archives. I’ve had this picture kicking around and haven’t had the slightest idea of what to do with it. Until now.

This was my very first client down at the streetshop on the strip, and he was pretty serious. I did the tear and the cross between his brows, and the other dudes from the shop had also done some of his face tattoos. And don’t ask about the why’s, cause I didn’t. Among the craziest things, and there were more than a few that session, I decided to peep this dude’s name (his writing on the consent form was total chicken scratch) and his id was ripped into particulate matter and then taped back up together again. I still get chills thinking about this client.

This next dude was pretty serious too, seeing as he trekked straight to the shop from the depths of Scarborough to get tattooed by me. He arrived just as we were about to close, but how could I say no to the opportunity? I’m glad I didn’t as this one was a blast to zap.

Be free to do you. But only after you use that greymatter.
Anyone can get a tattoo, but can you fully back up whatever that image you choose to adorn on your face symbolizes?

Think. Then execute. Not the other way around.

It’s been awhile since my last post, and much has happened since so I’m going to break it down into a few posts over the next couple days, so that I’m not just regurgitating all of it in one shot. Notable achievements include completing the last 1.5 credits of my undergrad and completing my M1 and M2 in a weeks time.

The RTI course I took was great, and I highly recommend it to anyone who is considering ever operating a motorbike. The instructors are encouraging and enthusiastic, with lots of expertise to share. I spent a total of eighteen hours over the weekend outside by the water on the docks riding bikes. Saturday was brutal, the weather had us see everything from rain, snow, hail and wild gusts of wind. Sunday was more forgiving, with warmth and sunshine. I became familiar with different types, dropped a few others, and had some fall on me pegging me down to the ground. After each spill, I got back up and road that fucker again. Our whole class passed, and I completed with a perfect score.

I think what that’s supposed to mean is that I operate a motorcycle better than I do a car.

So since that first experience of riding solo on a motorbike, I became instantly hooked. I wasn’t about to let go of this feeling. So I’ve been searching relentlessly for the perfect bike over the last week. And on Wednesday, I found her. But like most great things in life, you have to work for them. So I literally traveled to where hell freezes over.

I embarked on my first road trip to Peterborough on the back of my buddy, Erdem’s ’84 Interceptor. Through this experience, I learned a lot about riding, myself and what it takes to persevere in less than ideal conditions.

After tattooing at work, then doing a little thing for a friend’s sister at the studio, seven o’clock rolls around to find me running out the door with my gear one. I’m glad my wife had the sense to tell me to slap on a pair of long johns, because inadequate is not how I can even come close to describing how we were dressed for this adventure.

We decided to take backroads there, at the suggestion of one of our roadmates, and a one and a half hour trip progressively turned into 3.5 hrs one way, with the temperatures dipping down to 4 degrees around the 3am mark and us riding on speeds averaging around 110 km/hr. Erdem and I wanted to get a cheap $60/night motel room, but our roadmate had to be back in the early morning for work, so not wanting to have him travel all the way back to Toronto by himself, we left Peterborough somewhere around midnight with the moon hanging half full and high in the sky. After refueling, we ended up going our separate ways anyways, with Richard wanting to take the same backroads, and Erdem and I opting for the highways. We reasoned that a short amount of time to be focused was safer than a prolonged steady course. The 401 is a barren with long dark stretches of lightless road, and all that passes by you are convoys of transport trucks all threatening to set you off course with their crosswinds. We had to make frequent stops every twenty minutes because our hands and toes were freezing. Erdem must have been more cold than I was, seeing as he was breaking my wind out front. In total, we accumulated over 7 hrs of riding in the freezing cold.

Peterborough, Port Hope, Oshawa, Whitby, Ajax, Pickering, Scarborough, Toronto.

We reached my house around 4am thursday morning. We also caught a case of hypothermia that was quickly advancing into stage two. I’m still frigid to my bones today, and it’s been three days, many layers and soaks in the bath after the whole ordeal. And trust me, starvation, exhaustion, hysterics, bitter cold and riding into pitch black were all worth it. I put down a deposit on an 87 Kawasaki EX500 Ninja and she’s expected to touch down here in East Toronto tomorrow.

Monday morning, I’ll call the insurance company to activate my plan, march on down to the MTO and get that license plate, bolt it onto my bike, whom I still have yet to christen with a name, KNIFE CCS, and take her round the block a couple times to get acquainted.

My life, once again, has been changed forever.

Mighty Mos said it: It was love for the thing that made me want to stay out.