I met Eric Maaske in the spring of 1995. I wasn’t sober, but he was and had been for many years at that point. He started tattooing me and we became friends. I’d go hang out with he & Chummy after work, Eric often having to pick up my tab. Eric had everything & I had nothing, but he liked me and took pity on a poor punker. I’m sure I was a reminder of what was waiting for him should he relapse. One night I got particularly drunk & he off handedly said “You should get ‘Fish Wife’ tattooed on your knuckles.” I’m sure he didn’t mean it as a compliment. A year later during my debacle days in Amsterdam Eric Hogan heard of Maaske’s suggestion and offered to tattoo it on me for free. Never one to turn down a bargain, I took him up on his deal. Once again, he didn’t mean it as a compliment. Years later, sober as a judge, I spent a wonderful day with Eric Hogan. We spoke of our lives and laughed at all of the folly. I left his shop warm under the glow of growth. Later that year Eric was shot dead on the steps of his home. A murder in the coldest of blood. A few months after that horror, I spotted a gaunt Eric Maaske on the street in Hollywood. That trouble he never wanted to forget had found him again. He was scared, trapped by the thing that won’t let go, but I really thought he’d win that fight. I was wrong. A few weeks later he too had left this earth, leaving a huge hole in the middle of all who knew him. People often ask me why I have Fish Wife tattooed on my knuckles, so much so it can be “tiring”. But when I have the time, (& even when I don’t), I pause and tell the story of the two Erics, both gone, but certainly not forgotten.
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