Friday, March 5, 2004

The Nose Ring

Three weeks ago tomorrow, I got my septum pierced.  (That’s a ring through the cartilage at the bottom of the nose.  Think Ferdinand the Bull.)

Why did I do it?  Well, with winning the Seattle Leather Daddy contest in November, I got a certificate for a free piercing from Troy at Apocalypse.  I’ve already got a pierced ear and a Prince Albert (head of the dick, going through the urethra and out the bottom), and I’ve previously had (and removed) a nipple ring and a tongue stud.  So it is was septum, labret (below the lip), guiche (between the dick and the asshole), or a lorum (a bar or ring at the base of the dick where it meets the scrotum).  (Or I suppose I could have got something bizarre like a uvula piercing.)  I’ve always thought septum piercings looked cool — and with a small retainer in place of a ring, they can be tucked up into the nose, nearly invisible — so that’s what I went for.

(Not that I had to use the certificate, of course, but I wouldn’t want to spurn the generous donation Apocalypse made to our club.)

At the time, I had the choice between a split ring (with a gap at the bottom and two balls), a captive bead (where a ball sits caught between ends of the ring, or a retainer.  I chose the split ring because it can be rotated up into the nose to hide it for a while (such as if I have to visit my mother).  I could have gone with the retainer, but I figured that if I find the piercing just a little irritating (and I have at times), I might be tempted to remove the retainer and just ditch the piercing, which I’m unlikely to do with the full ring.  I wanted to make sure I stick with it.

After eight weeks, it should be healed enough to change the jewelry.  At that point, I’ll probably go to a retainer for daily wear, saving the ring — or getting more dramatic spikes and such — for weekends and special events.

The set of reactions I’ve had since then have been unusual.  In general, people do their best to just ignore it.  I haven’t noticed many cases of people looking at the ring rather than the rest of my face.  A few co-workers have asked some specific questions about it — like “What did you do to your nose?” (“Nothing,” I replied.  “The piercer did that.” <grin>) — but no vocal negative reactions.  Of course, this is Seattle, which was one of the places the trend of facial piercings came from.  That, and people generally just try to be polite.

(And of course, there’s the typical “Did that hurt?” question.  In gay circles, I answer that quite matter-of-factly: “Just enough that my dick started getting hard when he shoved the needle through.  With my teenage step-daughter in the room, watching.”)

But the last weekend of February, I went to Texas for LUEY.

Walking through the airports in Dallas and Houston (but not in the hotel I was at, which was hosting the mostly-black attendees of a Narcotics Anonymous convention [I note the race just because it was the situation there, not because I draw a connection between blacks and drugs; heck, maybe it means blacks are more apt to try to recover from such addiction than whites!]), I kept getting cruised.  Or so it seemed, but when I would try to make eye contact and cruise back, I kept getting deep scowls, of the “That guy is gay, isn’t he?  I don’t like queers” sort.

It wasn’t until coming through Dallas on the way back that it hit me that the guys weren’t scowling, precisely, but were instead staring at the nose ring.  The scowl was more one of confusion than dislike: “What the hell does that guy have hanging from his nose?”  Hard to say if I was being cruised as well, or not.

Or maybe the look was “Who let Ferdinand the Bull loose in here?”



Updated on March 9, 2004

Updated on November 8, 2005
Comment by Adam D. (Columbus, OH)
In the deep dripping South, it is sometimes held by religious precept that you should not place any marking on, or hole in, your body, because it’s going to make you unworthy of resurrection.

I think there could be a fundamentalist-Christian thing there…  Oh, looky Ma a sinner… he’s going to Hell.   Same reason, I suspect, that until last year (or maybe it was the year before?) you could not legally be tattooed in South Carolina.

Genesis 1:26-27, God said, "Let us make man in our own image, in the likeness of ourselves, and let them be masters of the fish of the sea, the birds of heaven, the cattle, all the wild animals and all the creatures that creep along the ground."

[That verse sometimes gets used to bash tree-huggers, i.e. we’re all fucking Masters of the Universe…what a bad idea that is.   And the very next verse is one that some of those guys try to use to get us Gay folk in trouble:

Genesis 1-27: God created man in the image of himself, in the image of God he created him, male and female he created them.]

The anti-tat, anti-pierce idea is, I think, that God is flawless and unmarked, and so should we be also.   Don’t ask me where the notion of circumcision comes in — I’ve always been happier dreaming of God’s person as being male with a big uncut dick.  At any rate, seeing one always gets me to fall to my knees.
Updated on December 20, 2010
Hmm, looks like Ferdinand the Bull didn’t actually have a nose ring!

After a few days of trying to conceal the nose ring by turning it up, I gave up and just lived with it down.  Once I changed jobs, it was well enough healed that I switched to leaving it out during the week, putting it in only on weekends and times I’m going to engage in leather play or such during the week.  Except for those days I forget it is in and wear it to work.  Oh well, not like working for a music company in Seattle, people haven’t seen facial piercings!

Heading toward seven years later, I still have the nose ring — and I’ve added a lorum and had both nipples done (second time for one of them; “like punching through shoe leather” the guy said).  Still haven’t decided about a guiche someday, but might get another lorum ring.

Monday, March 1, 2004

The Passion for the Christ

Blasphemy ahead.  You’ve been warned.

I have zero interest in seeing the new film, The Passion of the Christ.  Seen one crucifixion, seen them all.  (Can’t we just rent Monty Python’s Life of Brian again?)  We needed another moving Easter film like we need another novel about growing up gay in the South.

Then again, maybe I will go see it.  I hear the whipping scene is hot.  Total wanking material.



Updated on March 2, 2004

Updated on December 15, 2010

Tuesday, February 3, 2004

Maximum Nipplage

I don’t know who won the Super Bowl this year.  Heck, I don’t even know who played in it.  But I sure do know that Janet Jackson has her nipple pierced.

I’m not offended by the accidental baring of the nipple of Ms. Jackson (since I’m nasty).  Per the CNN story, the intent was to rip away the bustier and leave the bra intact.  I’ve been a dance performer before, and I know that costumes don’t always behave as intended in the clinch.  (And although not actually performing at the time, I’ve had a pair of leather pants rip down the fly, through the crotch, and across the ass in the middle of a dance move, leaving my naughty bits hanging out for anyone to look at if they wanted.  Two boys from Sacramento wanted.)

Assuming it was an accident, of course.  The one buzz in the back of my head is the statement from Justin Timberlake on the subject: “I am sorry if anyone was offended by the wardrobe malfunction during the halftime performance at the Super Bowl.  It was not intentional and is regrettable.”  Note the avoidance of a real apology (I’m sorry that you were offended, not that I caused offense); compare to Dr. Laura’s March 2010 “apology” for offending gays and lesbians a few years back.  And note that the final word of his statement is “regrettable” — this means something which can be regretted, not which I do regret.  These sorts of press statements usually have their wording very closely analyzed, so no word or phrase in them is accidental.

Talk radio — conservative and liberal alike — is going great guns on this, wanting to know “Are you offended?”  Damn right I’m offended.  I’m offended by the implication that I should be offended!

Tuesday, December 16, 2003

Won’t You Wear My Ring… Around Your Neck…

Mistress Matisse writes the “Control Tower” BDSM column in The Stranger.  I wrote to her back in August [slightly edited here]:

Hi, Matisse.

I enjoy reading your column in The Stranger each week.  I especially like the recent one on “fetish etiquette,” all-lowercase names, and so on.  While I do my best to respect the stated desires of others in such arenas — if Joe wants to be referred to as “boy joe”, I’ll try to comply — I find that it’s easy to cross the line from submissive into pretentious.

That said, a question for you which perhaps you could address in your column.

My boyfriend’s imagination has been captured by the (gay) “leatherboy” movement of late, and as part of that, he wants me to “collar” him.  While I’m perfectly willing to — I love him dearly, and the thought makes me hot — I also want to take this idea slowly enough that we are both sure of what we are doing, what it will mean to us, and what it will mean to others.

When I go online for some research, as you observed in the earlier column, I find a whole bunch of stuff dealing with kinky het slave relationships, elaborate rituals for collaring (some including blood exchange; thank you, but no), “collar of consideration,” and so on.  In other words, not a lot of info on the meaning of collars in a daddy/boy (or equivalent) relationship and a lot of pretentious crap (although perhaps quite important to some couples, I’m sure; I despise some elaborate wedding vows, too).

I’m hoping you can devote a column to some discussion of this topic, as I suspect it would be both interesting and enlightening, especially if you could include something about how collaring
differs along the straight/gay and slave/boy axes.  Hmm, and maybe goth vs. leather?

I’m sure that he and I will wend our way through on our own just fine, of course.  But if your thoughts help enlighten and guide us, so much the better.

In the December 11 issue, she largely replied to the general parts of my query.  I still haven’t formally collared my boy, but I think we both have come to understand a lot more about the matter in the intervening months.

[Weblog title reference: From a song by Elvis, of course…]



Comment from Troy (of Seattle, WA) / received December 16, 2003:
[When I saw Troy last night, he held up his hand and pointed to his wedding ring.]

“Silly leathermen.  That’s what this is for.”
Updated on October 28, 2010

Monday, December 8, 2003

I won the title of Seattle Leather Daddy 2004 on Saturday, November 29.  (The title would be the equivalent of Seattle Leather Daddy 15 if numbered sequentially.)  Seattle Leather Daddy’s Boy 2004 is Rusty Jones.

My title e-mail address: SeattleLeatherDaddy@earthlink.net

Thursday, October 23, 2003

A Distaste of Leather

A few years ago, a friend of mine was the publisher of a fetish-oriented magazine (In Uniform Magazine; not hard-core porn, but still “adult”), and he sometimes used other people whom I knew personally to do illustrations for the magazine.  I didn’t buy the magazine regularly (uniforms aren’t my thing), but if it had art from one of the people I knew, I would pick it up.

One shop (A Taste of Leather in San Francisco [no website, apparently]) I went into had the latest issue, which I hadn’t seen yet.  They had two racks of magainzes: the new magazines were wrapped in plastic, in a rack behind the counter, and another one was in the back of the store with thumbed-through (to the point of uselessness) jumble of other magazines, presumably used stock which they didn’r curate at all.  (It was probably worse in that shop that just about anything outside a stuffed-full comics spinner rack, though, indicating that they considered that other magazine rack a lost cause and didn’t monitor it at all.)

I asked if I could leaf through the latest issue.  I was told that I had to buy it first.  I explained my interest in only selected issues, and thus that I needed to briefly see the contents before buying.  I was told I would have to buy it first; they didn’t want the issues damaged like the ones on the open rack.  I promised to buy it if it had the content I was after, and offered to leaf through it quickly right there at the counter in front of the clerk (and the store was otherwise empty, so that wouldn’t have been a drain on his attention).  Nope: I could only see the interior if I bought a copy first, and there were no refunds for any reason.

Needless to say, I left the store.  I then wrote a letter of complaint to the store management.  They sent me a letter back in just a few days, which impressed me until I read the content: “That is our store policy.  You’re welcome to shop elsewhere if you don’t like it.  We don’t need your business.”  (That’s a paraphrase, of course, although the last sentence was explicitly in their response.)  (Note that I don’t blame the individual clerk for adhering to the store’s policy.)

They don’t need my business.  Let’s hope not: I’ve never shopped there since.

(I don’t necessarily bring up old grudges like this regularly.  But a mailing list I am on had a thread today on the subject of shrink-wrapped CD’s and thus the eventual potential of shrink-wrapped books which would have to be bought to be read — or accessed at an in-store “reading station” — and which then could not be returned except in exchange for a copy of the same title.)



Updated on October 12, 2010

Saturday, July 19, 2003

Trapped!

You know those big metal donut ball stretchers/ball weights, the ones which come in two pieces that screw together?  Like these?  (Note: link includes photos with male nudity.)

I sure hope I can get a hex key of the right size (about 3.5 mm) at Lowe’s or Home Depot before I have to board the plane to San Jose on Tuesday morning.

(Yes, I did get free.  I had to get a new set of hex keys, and then found the one I lost.  And then on my next trip, I had the single key in my carry-on and they seized it at Security.)



Updated on September 1, 2003

Updated on October 21, 2003

Updated on September 2, 2010
Updated the link.