Chapter 12 � Slight Return

It felt good to be home again, as I had grown nostalgic and longed for what was so familiar to me. I returned to the familiar streets and places I had grown up with and were always in the back of my mind. But the romanticism of home began to wear off rather quickly. I soon realized that my hometown had become a shadow of its former self, having fallen on hard times. As well, I noticed that little had changed, except for a feeling of gloom and despair lingered even heavier than before. Though I was close to home and friends, the same resentment I had harboured for where I was from had resurfaced.

 

I soon realized that to be able to effectively commute to and from the new tattoo shop I was employed at, a move up the highway from Welland to St. Catharines would be inevitable. As well, I took this as an opportunity to be close to home without being surrounded and reminded of my resentments. Within a month of arriving in Ontario, I was moving again, though not as far from what I had always known.

 

            I found a rather cheap and small apartment in what I would eventually discover to be not the best of neighbourhoods. I had no complaints, though, as I would rarely associate with the neighbours and had no reason to seek trouble. So long as it was affordable and I had a place to eat, sleep, shower and relax, I was happy. It was also not long after moving I was offered part-time work screen printing t-shirts, my other trade, so I doubted I would be spending much time at home anyhow. It was a place to crash where my cats would be happy and I could keep my stuff, so I had no complaints.

 

            I started tattooing within days of my move, and began to settle into my new surroundings. My routine was this: I would wake every morning, screen print for a few hours, and arrive at the tattoo shop by mid-afternoon. I would stay at the shop until the evening and would go home, relax, and prepare for my next day. Sundays were my own to do with as I wished, and I had hoped to take advantage of my new city on those days off.  Just as quickly as I had left one routine I had become accustomed to out west, I settled into one back home.

 

            The tattooing work slowly began to trickle in, and I began to form a fast and close friendship with Draven. He was a man of great compassion, humour, and wisdom. We would often talk about our tastes in video games, music, art, and movies. We worked well together, complimenting each other’s styles as tattooists and as artists. It felt good to work with someone so closely again and connect on a level of workmanship as well as friendship. As our friendship went on with the weeks and months, so did our fortunes tattooing, though not as well as I would have liked. I certainly was not able to exclusively live from any income earned tattooing due to the number of shops in our general vicinity vying for everyone’s business (there were 5 shops within as many blocks), but we were holding our own and catered to our own clientele. I was glad I also had the screen printing job backing up my income, so I had little worries for affording my life. We had a crowd of friends and customers that were to become regular faces at Sik Liquid, and I began to feel at home. I started to get my very own clientele, composed of former clients from years ago, friends, and new clients that were from St. Catharines. I began to make a few new friends, as well as re-connect with many people I had not seen in many years.

 

            As the summer came upon us, I had hoped for a summer of good times, beaches, sightseeing, and spending time with old friends. But this was not to be the case. Living in another city than my hometown, though close as it was, was still a distance that prevented much associating with my old friends from home. And often they were unable to travel, so there were many people I did not even get to see or spend time with as I would have liked the whole summer I lived back home. As well, I found myself getting rather busy working between one of two jobs, as both were in the midst of their busiest seasons. Often, the few days off I had had were spent running personal errands, though I did afford myself the occasional solitary late-night bike ride to the shores of Lake Ontario and to the picturesque community of Port Dalhousie (and always equipped with a few doobies to “enhance” the experience). I would often take my camera, take some photos, go home afterwards and write poetry, and felt satisfied with my simple routine. This was what I had hoped to be a creative and insightful summer, and did not honestly see myself returning to the West any time soon, if at all. I felt that all my fortunes lay not far from where I had come from, but had simply needed the change of scenery to give me better perspective.

 

            It was also at this time that I not only grew more expressive creatively, but began to attempt to network with others in tattooing, as well as local arts in general. I began to network and speak with tattooists, artists, and writers, both locally and internationally, through the internet. I was seeking out other like-minded individuals to express and discuss thoughts and ideas, and perhaps collaborate in future projects. I was met with limited success and interest locally, but made many, many more contacts in other geographic areas in this way.

 

            I was tattooing and printing, back where I was most familiar to others as well as me to my surroundings. Friends and family were not far, and I was back into the swing of tattooing in Niagara again. I was fairly satisfied with my re-adjustment home again after a long absence, and thought it could never end.

 

            I would be proven wrong.