The last tattoo

The mother of the man with the tattooed face asked,

Life is hard. Why would you want to make it harder?

 

He furrowed  black satanic signs on his brow and said,

I wish you had told me this before I did: What I did.

 

     Tito Titus, represented by Pleasure Boat Studio

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Smoking grass

 

Who by fire?

                  –Leonard Cohen

 

 

The grass, amazing green leaves, how fast they grabbed the early Spring hillsides, only a winter past the fire that scrambled over those hills like Hell-in-a-hurry, thousand acre fistfuls of fire that burst into town, burned businesses, torched twenty-four  homes, and scorched warehouses with flames that rode the wind like blazing Valkyries.. Now a new Summer nears, grass fades early, blades turn brown and brittle, ready to burn again when a shot of white lightening cracks open the sky, hot energy splits dry air, ignites fresh fuel,  throws flaming tumbleweeds across fields verdant only yesterday.

Tito Titus at Pleasure Boat Studio

Fortunately, we are meaning-making machines

I wonder if,  when Douglas Adams discovered that the meaning of “life, the universe, and everything” is forty-two, a lot of arguments were settled. Existentialists say that life has no meaning other than the meaning we assign to it. Bear with me. I’m close to saying what I want to say. I had an aha! moment today. It came to me that Nothing Matters! Nothing. matters, and THAT is the Cosmic Joke everyone talks about. This makes consideration of whether to commit suicide the deepest philosophical conversation you can have. It’s better, more likely, to make some meaning and live by it.  Forty-two, for instance. But then, I’m an optimist..

–Tito Titus at Pleasure Boat Studio