Post by ABEL CHRISTOPHER ADAMS on Feb 24, 2013 2:49:50 GMT -8
| [atrb=style,width: 420px; background-color: efefef; background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/6jh1H.png); padding: 5px, bTable] ABEL C. ADAMS TWENTY-FIVE | PANSEXUAL | TATTOO ARTIST | LOCAL | AHREN STRINGER THE INTERVIEW HELLO. THANKS FOR COMING IN TODAY. SHALL WE START WITH YOUR NAME? His name is Abel Christopher Adams. People have a tendency to call him Abe but he detests it; it makes him feel like a crippled old man. He doesn’t particularly like the name Abel either but it’s better than nothing. His ex used to call him Abby and he loathes this even more than Abe. Isn’t Abel easy enough in itself? Why shorten something that’s only four letters long as it is? THAT'S A NICE NAME. WHAT DO YOU DO FOR A LIVING? He barely got through high school, let alone went to post-secondary. He thought about it for about two seconds, for what it’s worth. Instead he starting working at a friend’s tattoo shop, where he’s been for nearly eight years now. Yes, he’s licensed. He can do piercings too because he’s fancy like that. INTERESTING. WHAT DO YOU DO FOR FUN? Abel’s a pretty artistic guy, which comes with the trade. He doesn’t just put art on skin but he puts it on walls and paper as well. He’s never without a pencil, constantly covering receipts in mindless doodles. He paints, he tags walls with elaborate graffiti, he plays bass and drums, he skateboards and drinks like it’s his last day on earth, he spends too much time on his three cats and his dog. He’s slowed down since breaking up with his ex girlfriend, still processing the drastic change in his life she so kindly gave him. As for what he enjoys, Abel’s fond of animals of any variety and most insects. He’s deeply intellectual and would choose the company of a book over most people. He has an extensive library of classic literature and poetry. He likes sitting in trees, smoking like a chimney, and swearing like a sailor. He loves going for jogs when he’s feeling well enough and hanging around the house in his boxers. He finds the joy in little things like overeating, Gaterade, and tastefully offensive humor. He especially finds joy in a dark skinned woman with green eyes. He’s allergic to tribal tattoos. Don’t ever ask him to give you one. He also hates butterfly tattoos unless they’re for a good reason other than “change.” While he likes bugs he can’t stand centipedes and millipedes and hates when it’s after a rainfall and there are billions of squished worms on the ground. Abel’s also not much of a fan of nosebleeds and running a fever or the rashes he can get from time to time. He can’t stand the snow of being cold, most music on the radio, or the feeling of being purposely ignored. Most of all, he hates thinking about his future and how he might not have one any more. He used to want kids and now that won’t happen. WOULD YOU SAY THOSE ACTIVITIES REFLECT WHO YOU ARE? Abel is a lot of things. He’s an artist, sensitive and creative. He finds beauty in the simple things that other people don’t seem to notice. He finds solace in nature and enjoys a quiet night in just as much as he loves to be able to party. He’s still a bit of a delinquent, loving to cause trouble when the mood strikes. He’s a strong debater with a nasty temper and a philosophical outlook on life. As an introverted extrovert he can be outgoing but it might take a little while to get to that point. He has a tendency to be a bit on the shy and guarded side on a bad day or if the situation is a generally uncomfortable one, but it doesn’t take him very long to open up once conversation is sparked. He’s a friendly enough guy who enjoys people, especially the misfit of society. Abel’s never been very good at keeping friends but his loyalty is fierce and unquestionable, as he is the type to give every last penny he had to help someone he cares about. And Abel cares intensely for people. He’s a very sympathetic person with a lot of emotions towards other people. He cares too much but shows it too little. He falls for a sob story but hates to talk about his own. Abel is someone you can talk to for hours on end and never be bored with. Despite his terrible school grades and his distaste for education he’s a very bright man. He knows a lot and has a head filled with facts and stories and knowledge that surprises most people he meets. He comes across as somewhat of an idiot or an airhead in most cases. He’s been called “stupid” more times than he can count and at times he’s a little on the insecure side about it. Abel loves to learn about people and things and everything and everyone but he likes to do it on his own terms, not under the terms of a school system that doesn’t pay attention to what the students actually need. He’s aggressive, hot tempered, lost, dazed, confused, a party animal, delinquent, moody, generous, sympathetic, philosophical, a misfit, bitter, lonely, guarded, intellectual, artistic, innovative, perceptive, argumentative, defensive, responsible, internal, logical, absent minded professor, skeptical, enthusiastic, dreamy, distant, flexible, and understanding. COOL BEANS. THEY SAY YOUR FAMILY SHAPES WHO YOU ARE. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOURS? Abel insists that his pets come first. They will always come first, as they are as close to children as he’ll ever get. He has an orange tabby cat named Boris, a calico cat named Sylvia, a Siamese cat named Chiyo and a French bulldog named Vincent. He’s been considering adding a ball python to the mix but he’s not sure if they’re legal to own in Maine. Let’s face it; he’ll probably end up with another dog. (It should also be noted that the cats are all named for famous poets and his dog for Van Gogh.) Thomas and Rebecca are the names of his parents, divorced and both remarried. His step-mother is Janet Adams and his step-father is Richard Morrow. Full siblings is limited to one older brother and no his name isn’t Kane, it’s Joseph. From his father and step-mother he had two half siblings, Monica and Bethany, and a half brother named James. From his mother and step-father he has no half siblings and four step-brothers: Hunter, Robert, Tyler and Walter. Abel hasn’t talked to any of his family in nearly three years, as he’s never really seen eye to eye with them. They’re all scattered around North America anyways, reconnecting isn’t easy. As far as living conditions go he lives on his own in a two bedroom apartment but he’s been in the market for a roommate. AND YOUR LIFE? TELL ME ABOUT YOUR PAST. I'M EAGER TO HEAR. Thomas and Rebecca’s marriage was far from a happy one. What used to be the fairytale of high school sweethearts living happily turned sour not long after their first son was born. Something in Rebecca changed. She grew distant. It wasn’t post-partum by any means, but something else entirely. Money got tight and arguments became an every day occurrence in the Adams household to the point where Abel wasn’t phased by it any more. He’d just look over at his big brother in their shared bedroom and bring the blanket over his head and call it a night. He was six when they divorced, too young to really understand why. He had to have two houses now and two families. He couldn’t see his dad whenever he wanted any more and he had a new dad in his place, for Rebecca had been cheating on her husband for quite some time. He had four new brothers to live with and he did not like it at all. What had he done wrong? He was desperately sorry and he wanted to fix it but no one seemed to notice that Abel thought it was his fault his parents had divorced, as is incredibly common in someone as young as he had been. Abel didn’t get along with his step-brothers very much. Suddenly going from one brother to five hadn’t been easy for him and being the youngest of six boys took its toll. They tricked him on a regular basis and took his things and made fun of him, though they never let anyone who wasn’t family mistreat him like this. Abel was eleven when more siblings were added to the mix, his father remarrying and his step-mother giving birth to fraternal twin girls not even a year later. His parents were happier with their new lives and big important jobs and huge families, too happy and too busy to notice a lost and confused little boy about to start high school. The sweet and sensitive artist made the wrong friends in the wrong crowd, quickly getting into under-aged drinking and smoking and teenage delinquency. Abel barely passed all of his classes in high school, having turned into the typical burnout with a long line of dropped charges fight vandalism and fights. He struggled with his sexuality and finding the proper label to give himself, not for the benefit of other people but just so he knew what he was. Girls were hot. Boys were hot. Everyone was sexy and that was all he really cared about. Naturally Abel also struggled with talking to people this, keeping it as under wraps as possible. He was in a relationship with a boy named Mark for nearly a year before coming out to his mom and step-dad, who kicked him out. He went to his dad’s, came out to him, and was told not to come back. So Abel and Mark moved from Vermont to Maine, getting a shitty apartment and two cats. They broke up not long after moving in together but lived together for another few months before Mark moved in with someone else and Abel was dating his infamous ex-girlfriend. All the while he had been learning how tattoos work, having already covered himself in them from the age of fourteen and letting his friends teach him how to work a tattoo gun. He was getting formal training now, working as an apprentice in a shop. He made just enough to keep his apartment, he was madly in love with his girlfriend, and then it all came crashing down. She was acting weird. Not herself. Abel went to her best friend to see what was going on but she jumped around giving him an answer. He tried to see what was going on. He tried to get her to open up him, expecting it to be something like she made out with someone while drunk or didn’t like the gift he had gotten her. Instead she told him he should get tested for HIV, as she had been positive and known she had been positive for the entirety of their relationship. He was in shock. He got tested right away, the days between the test and the results agonizingly long. He could barely function, his mind too focused on what the results would be. The results came in and Abel could only focus on the clock that now hung above him ticking his last minutes away. He wouldn’t grow old. He wouldn’t have kids. He was crushed; depressed and alone and in his eyes dying. He’s gotten better at dealing with his recently, falling back into his routine and just trying to deal with it one day at a time. What about a secret? Everyone has a secret. He’s HIV positive courtesy of his ex girlfriend. It was a lovely parting gift that she neglected to inform him about. ALRIGHT. TIME'S ALMOST UP. TELL ME ABOUT YOUR DREAMS. QUICK! Abel clings to the hope that maybe there will be some miracle drug that will help him have at least one biological child. He clings to the idea of a happily ever after despite knowing full well that won’t happen. He wants to have his own tattoo shop some day and adopt another rescue dog and complete a marathon. He’d also like to paint every wall of his house and reconnect with his family before his time is up. AND THAT'S A WRAP. IT WAS NICE GETTING TO KNOW YOU. This is what he gets for not checkin’ himself before wreckin’ himself. Also, Seth insists the Abel-Seth thing wasn’t on purpose. It was coincidental because he really liked the name of the brother of biblical that Seth just so happens to be named for. BEHIND THE MASK SETH | TWENTY-FOUR | EST | AD HOPPING | NAH MAN It had been days since he had last spent some time with his little boy. He couldn’t help but feel like he was a horrible father for not being around more often. Then again, Breezy didn’t know what a real father was like. He had never met his own father and all of his mother’s boyfriends had bonded over closed fists and cigarette burns. He could remember asking when supper was going to be ready and getting tossed down the stairs, or asking to go outside and play and being told to play with the kitchen knives. Breezy’s body was covered in scars from the abuse he had faced, most of them centered on the arm that was completely covered in tattoos. The diamond on his neck covered up a burn from a spoon that had been used to cook heroin and the dragon on his arm covered up cuts and marks from being grabbed too roughly. With the father figures that he had had in his life it was no wonder he was so awkward with his son. So hesitant and afraid of doing things wrong. He was trying though. He was doing his best to be there, deciding on being Chiko’s friend rather than his dad. It was the one thing he knew how to do. He was confident enough in himself to do that without being afraid of completely fucking up. No matter what he still worried about making mistakes and doing something horribly wrong, but he worried a lot less this way. It helped that Leanne was so incredibly understanding. It didn’t matter how make times he messed up or how big the mistake was she never made him feel like he was worthless for doing so. He swore that she didn’t even have to try to make him feel better. She didn’t have to say anything and he knew that he was worth more than he gave himself credit for. So naturally he was feeling pretty good about seeing Chiko and Leanne. He hadn’t smoked a joint since early that morning, the high long gone by now. It helped that it was such a nice day out, the sun bright and the wind not strong enough to be a nuisance. He had a blue X Men t shirt on under a Batman hoodie. It wasn’t sweater weather but Breezy wasn’t in a good enough mood to go without. His jeans were normal for him, worn low and dragging on the ground. Sandals and his home made bracelets covered his wrists. His hair was a hot mess and his truck filled with garbage but for the Lotso toy that was strapped in the passenger’s seat. His ipod was in and played comforting music of The Horrors in his ears, calming that tiny little paranoid voice down in his mind. That voice never went away no matter how happy he was so Breezy was insistent on drowning it out with music. He almost always had it playing in his ear if he wasn’t on stage. Every now and then he brought it with him to interviews, which he loathed doing. He pulled up to the park he had suggested for spending the day together, parking on the street and not caring if he was parked illegally or not. He didn’t really check the little sign’s hours but whatever. He turned his junkyard truck off and got out, bringing the Lotso plush toy with him. His free hand was dug into the pocket of his sweater and the other hid Lotso behind his back. “Hey!” |
