Mooned

I grew up in the Southern Baptist Church - am still a member, in fact. The SBC would frown on the following:

1) That I am posting on a blog whose central theme is ALCOHOL
2) That I am posting a post that contemplates the acquisition and placement of a tattoo
3) That in that contemplation, I will reference a one-way ticket to hell-in-a-hand-basket: astrology

But back to the tattoo. I am not currently inked, other than the fact that my left-handedness often means I come home with an ink stain up the side of my pinky. I don't know that I ever seriously contemplated getting a tattoo because I've already experience the damning effects of age on the body (i.e. redistribution of chub) and because I knew my daddy would be so livid that I'd be lucky if I lived to enjoy the tatt.

But, if I were into inking and seriously contemplating, I'd get a moon. As I've mentioned on my other blog, I'm a Cancer, also known as a Moonchild. I've always been drawn to the moon, used it in my writing symbolically, felt extraordinarily connected to it. I'd like a crescent moon, old-world style with profile face. Like the style of the Smashing Pumpkins "Tonite, Tonite" video. Very fairy tale. And very small.

And where would the moon be? Hung right on my left hip.