FACT: Almost every single culture since man learned that he could modify his flesh has modified itself, for various reasons, from survival to ritual.

My Body is a Temple.

“A temple to what?”

To the only God that exists in my reality: Danny Chaos.

And when have you seen an unadorned temple? Seriously? Have you ever looked at that gaudy adornments of most temples? Wonderfully embellished paintings of some scene that probably never happened, gigantic “t” shaped monuments to a tortured messiah, occult symbols most of the worshippers probably don’t even know the meaning of. (You’d be amazed how many Christians don’t know what the PX monogram embroidered into the robes of their priests means.)

So when I have strange symbols on me, or pictures that mean something to me, or tell the story of a part of my life – Why do you insist on preaching to me about how my body’s a temple and I shouldn’t “desecrate” it?

And when you see my piercings, why do you ask me if it hurt? I mean, honestly. Come here. Let me shove a 10 gauge needle through your septum and you tell me if it hurts.

Yes it hurt. “Then why did you do it?” Obviously, the adornment means enough to me, that I’m willing to deal with the pain. “What does it mean to you?”

My ancestors come from various tribal peoples. Tribal peoples that I have every right to be quite proud of. Gaelic and Native American. My piercings are my way of honoring the tribal heritage of my family.

The full sleeve tattoo has various things in it. There’s an 8 pointed star, which was the symbol for one of the “vampire” goddesses. It symbolizes my affinity for the symbolism of vampires. The star is for the punk rock lifestyle. The 5 pointed stars woven into my sleeve are for various ex-girlfriends who still mean quite a bit. The word “LoveLore” is for my take on relationships. There’s a laundry list of modifications I have that you couldn’t begin to comprehend but that mean a lot to me.

My body is MY temple, don’t tell me how to adorn it.