If I had ever tattooed my face so thoroughly that I looked like a Mexican wrestler, and if I subsequently came to my senses, I would probably adopt a serious smack habit in order to ignore or forget the permanence of the embargo I had placed on my future.

Or at least that was the scenario in mind as I watched a fellow lolling around the front of the bus. On the other hand I didn't see him get off at the Delta Clinic with the other methadone patients, but then he seemed already heavily intoxicated so perhaps he missed his stop.

Or I might entirely have missed some point too edgy for the squares to understand, though I doubt it. Whatever statement he might have intended, I reckon carving it into your face wrecks other opportunities you may not have foreseen as desireable when first you braced for the buzzing needle.

On the other hand I once saw a man with a tattoo on his shaved scalp. Having the option to grow hair or otherwise cover your pate and its tattoo seems a more appealing choice than our young man from this morning made.