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I’ve noticed that recently new freckles have been popping up on my hands and arms. And now little dark spots that are just a shade or two darker than my skin tone are appearing on my hands. So yeah, should I be worried, or am I just getting liver spots at an obscenely young age?

Here’s to me being a dumbass. My brother and I and the rest of our travel companions had just finished watching the Italia/Australia game in which Italia wins in the last seconds with a penalty kick. My brother and I – both our heads dizzy from beer and cigar smoke – are waiting for the rest of the group and while we wait we decide to entertain ourselves by re-enacting the game In my role as the Australian goalie, I mock dive for the ball, but missing the two inch high curb I lose my balance (the beer may have had something to do with it) and totally bite it. I grap for the wall trying to prevent the inevitable. My brother laughs, as brothers do, then helps me up, only to see his hand has blood on it. We both look and my entire arm is scratched and bloody. Perfetto! So now I have a beautiful looking scab forming- but if I get a scar outta the deal it’ll be worth it. Forza Italia!

Feelings that I thought were gone, pain that I haven’t felt in ages all comes back in seemingly an instant. It knocks me on my ass and I’m sitting trying to figure out where the hell all this came from.

_{Didn’t I deal with this years ago?}

It’s like an old injury that acts up when it’s about to rain, except without the tight story about how I got injured in the first place.

So it’s not a scar, but it’s just as permanent – I got inked up again. But now I’m faced with the same dilema as before: I can’t stop at just one. I want to get another one. And then another one.
What a vicious cycle.

“It really pissed me off that I’d become this totally centered Zen Master and nobody had noticed.”