esrosedotblog

HOOPS

The other day, I reached to my left ear and my stud was gone. Gold. Mine. Gone. I reacted with a sudden feeling of loss and incompletion; the empty ear syndrome.

After a short period of grieving, I wondered if this was a 'sign' that it was time to drop the ornamentation. You know, the old magical thinking; that a higher power could give less of a shit whether I wear an ear ring or not. But when you live in the land of self absorption, as I can sometimes do, there is no end to the interest that the gods can take in one's daily affairs.

I did not replace the stud. It was my birthday. I am 67. Isn't it time to give it up? After all, am I not the first to denigrate those who dress 'too young'? On the other hand, I earned this stud; this hoop; whatever goes in the hole there in the lobe. I pondered. I stewed. I fingered the empty space.

Today, John called me from the bathroom. He had stepped on something in the shower, picked it up, and it was my stud. Wow. Another sign. This means that I should wear the stud! It is a bit hard to figure actually. If losing it was a sign, and getting it back was a sign; then, what is the meaning? Too much metaphysical confusion. I went and put a hoop in my ear because that is harder to lose.

That is the message: Studs fall out; hoops do not. A smaller, less cosmic instruction; but there it is.

I have had a pierced ear since about 1972. Back then it was rather daring for guys in the mainstream to have ear-rings; but I was trying way hard to move out of the mainstream. I just didn't want to go too far out. But I did have the hair; (see below) so what the hell.

Even more daring, was the urban legend that the side pierced indicated sexual preference; gay boys on the left; all others on the right. I 'dressed left'. I was to find later the side thing was not true. Hours of fixating on other men's ears and correlating with their known or probable sexuality told me so; or there were a lot of sadly misinformed straight boys.

My first stud was one of those wobbly ones that enlarges the hole as it heals. I wore it with a good deal of self consciousness as, it was (for me anyway) a declaration of my stand on homo-erotics; it was way big, all dangly-like, fake gold looking; OBVIOUS.

I was up for a joint workshop with Dave in Texas and I remember sitting in the back of the room (one was often sidelined working with Dave's clients--that's another story); happy not to be in the spotlight but totally certain that I was in it anyway (earmeearmeearmeear). Nevertheless, I had made it through a whole day with the clients and I do not think anyone peeped. I even did a smidgeon of stand up. No staring.

Dave insisted on going to a stripper bar at the end of that day. His car rental, his clients; it was OK with me. I didn't want to look at the 'girls' but I was drinking then and after the client-day probably needed it; why not? As we got out of the car it hit me. I was carrying my new look into the lion's den; a bunch of bikers and cowboys; left-pierced, wobbly-studded, long-haired faggot walks into Texas stripper bar.

Actually (other than the strippers of course) everyone had on the equivalent of a grey suit; looked down at their drinks (the strippers were pretty bad) and appeared way too repressed and shy to even notice anyone else attending the service let alone me and my big ear stud. But, it is the process that is important. I walked the walk.

That trip was my hardening process; a 2-punch experience; clients and non-clients. After that, it did not matter what or when or how I had anything stuck in my ear. I never looked back until this week; but that was just cosmic confusion; a temporary insanity. I am hooped again.