The Story of the Angry Sushi Story

I want today tell you guys a story of one of my tattoos. Perhaps the most meaningful one and one that I wear with pride.

At the moment I have a gallery of weird collection of tattoos, some of the more key players being a cigarette smoking flamingo on a skateboard, the disembodied head of a fire breathing rooster, and of course the Sushi one.

It's a tattoo that was personally designed for me, a token of a friendship and some weird as shit conversation.

I'll add that no alcohol had been consumed by the artist at least. Me I'm not so sure (2018 was a little bit of a drunken blur for me) but I do know that it was a tattoo that emotionally meant something to me.

I have a close relationship with my tattoo artist so from time to time I'll go and just hangout at the Sorry Mum Studio's. And at the end of the day I would often come out with a fresh tattoo.

It's genuinely like some fucked up catch up over a brew and biscuits only with added needles, ink and blood.

But my time there is always enjoyable as the Owners Laura & Johnny Firth are genuinely the kindest and most fascinating people I've come across.

This one particular time I went over, I was going through some shit. I was in self destruct mode and I was waiting for it to all collapse in.

So to go and spend time at the studio seemed almost therapeutic. I had come in with a few designs but I wanted my good friend Dom to surprise me with something of his own design.

Whilst I waited my turn after a quick chat I ran into Manchester city centre via the tram. I hadn't eaten and I was wanting comfort food which for me is Sushi.

Which I sat in the food court on my own and ate whilst listening to my angry boy playlist.

I was absorbed in self-pity like a wounded animal. For good reason, I had been through hell. Haunted by a relationship gone south, the loss of a childhood friend, and of course the incident.

I'll argue I've probably never been a mentally sound person. But by this point I was not diagnosed with PTSD, often triggered by large crowds.

I quickly felt myself becoming overwhelmed with anxiety as I watched people walk past like monotonous drones all wearing that dumb fuck happiness that came with a life, that in my head wrongly assumed, free of darkness.

I made my escape back to the sanctuary of art & pain. Something I believe as a writer goes hand in hand.

Disappointingly as I re-entered the old studio doors, my mind had gone from eagerness to see this new design to somewhere much darker.

I was still feeling the effects of an anxiety attack and probably a severe nicotine/caffeine rush.

That's when I felt the warmth of being surrounded by lovable bunch of tattooed misfits. They were doing their usual throwing little quips amongst one another whilst working on clients.

The smell of green soap and the sight of people writhing in pain for a service they asked for did chuckle me.

My spirits lifted ever higher by being in the presence of my partner in crime in regards to my tattoo gallery.

Dom greeted me with the usual "you okay bud?" But this one was different, there was a glimpse of devilish glee in his eyes.

Suddenly I realised he had designed me a random never seen before tattoo based on my personality.

I was excited, I was also terrified. A realisation that I had given him full creative freedom.

Did I trust him to understand me on a such a personal level?

As I was on the verge of mental-breakdown Dom thrust his iPad into my face and there before my very eyes. A masterpiece unworthy of an owner but yet somehow perfect for me.

I was shocked and overcome with laughter.

Two years on and I still remember the time I got a tattoo of some Angry Sushi.

Forever thanks Dom.

#tattoostory.pt1