Tears as in rips, not the crying kind. I found out I had a way (OK, OK, my 10 yr old niece found this out and showed me) to take a 1.3 MB photo with the webcam. So I thought, hmnnn. Let's see what I can take photos of off of my face and arms. The head one might show an odd scar shaped like England, still there since I broke my arm in 1973, riding a bike in Kentucky. There's one of me pointing/pulling at my hand; back in the winter of 1983, some guy on angel dust pulled a knife on me on the A train (as they were then called), and like a fool, I slapped his hand, somehow smacking the damn knife itself. So much for depth perception. The guy did cut out, though. My first experience with idiots and meltdowns. I knew I was going to love being a writer. The cut was to the bone, I found out later, 26 years later, its hard to see even when I'm tanned. The other shots try to do my left arm justice, what the "good" scar and the "bad" scar loom like. Also, a nice perspective thing to show how might left arm really looks when I'm not bending it into normal fashion when I'm around people. My knuckles really don't hit the ground, no worries.
3 comments:
Even scars fade with time. Some of them. I got a bad burn on the back of my left leg as a kid but it's completely invisible now.
I've got a scar on my leg from when a chain saw ripped into it and I had to have about a jillon bloody stitches in it to sew it shut.
And Wayne is going:
"Ooooo! You got your widdle weg wipped open with a chain saw! Pardon me while I LOOK AT WHAT HAPPENED TO MY ARM WHEN I WAS ALMOST TORN IN HALF BY A SPEEDING SEDAN!!!"
I think our scars pale to almost total insignificance in the scope and variety of the shades of wounds suffered by Wayne.
Wayne has us beat, dude. If you want to measure a man by the number of scars on his body...well, Wayne's the Johnny Wadd of scar tissue.
I always thought I had my fair share of scars, but you're like that android badass guy from Frank Miller's Hardboiled!
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