Some Advantages to Casting an Effeminate Tattooed Guy with Long Hair in Vampire Roles for a Music Video

Tattooed guys don’t care about money; contracts can be fulfilled with manly handshakes.

Effeminate auras cut back on the need for set lighting.

Long hair cut back on the need for make up.

There will be a lot of free publicity in Chicago, New York, London, Copenhagen, Hamburg…

Countless scenario possibilities can be extracted from the bible.

Teeth & the possibility of biting create new prospects for food-catering for a in the middle of a forest.

People who don’t care about money are never in a hurry to finish.

No one expects convincing actors anyway.

Effeminate people know better than anyone that women are all-knowing, so once they get going they damn it all to hell — they’re already screwed!

Give a man a boner and he’ll take a mile. If your hands are on me and I say GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME sometimes I mean that’s what I am supposed to say so my mouth makes the sounds that they should and my body sort of twists away in a futile attempt at escape. Your hands still find their way because they are hunting dogs and the scent is all over me and I don’t know the safe word. Give a man a boner and he’ll take a mile. There are windows and there are doors. Some rooms have broken lights and some have ripped up carpet. There are photo frames lying shattered on the dirt floor of a back basement. I want to see the faces of the people in the photographs because I like when people who had lived happy lives are now crumpled, dirty, torn and wet in a place where nobody fucking cares about them. Where they are forgotten. I want to stand over them and say, not so happy now ARE YOU and then grind my boot heel into the paper that holds their moment. Give a man a boner and he’ll take a mile. Then there’s you and how you let me fold myself into how you hold me. You are seven feet tall if you are a foot. I never tell you but I want you to take me up against a wall. I want to shake old boxes loose, let the special things they were saving spill into the filth. I want frames to fall hard to the floor. I need to fuck over broken glass and happy faces. Give a man a boner and he’ll take a mile and I hate that I’m sometimes okay with that.

words by Tracy Gonzalez (“Give a Man a Boner”)

tattoo by Thomas Hooper

I often think that nowadays we are living in a blunter way than it used to be. Somehow, the distance we had toward objects or events seems to decrease and proportionally, prudishness vanishes. Maybe it’s illusory, I’m nostalgic by nature.

An english expression says “he wears his heart on his sleeve” to define someone inclined to a certain reserve. Today, an article from the LA Times relates that a Pico Rivera gang member literally wears his heart on his chest.

Everyone knows about the criminals from the Russian gulags and their tattoos. However, if the latter were subtly ciphering their feats, the former obscenely inked on his chest the crime scene of a murder he committed years ago. This confession lead to his conviction.

Via South Willard.

It’s an image about a random nothing of a moment, but it is so deftly written that it tells the story of so much more and you realize this in the very last line, with the guy staring at his leg and probably the girl on the telephone with her ex-boyfriend downstairs with her family, thinking, “I could imagine the urgency of the dial tone, then the suspenseful cave of the ringing, and all the things that go through your mind.”

picture by Maxime Ballesteros

Not your typical approach to home attack dog training.

More from the series by RJ Shaughnessy here.

Alex Lejeune submitted these images.

photography by Sébastien Bonin
style by Simon-Pierre Toussaint
tattoos by Alex Lejeune