Are Tattoos Sexy or Tacky? (How I Got My First & Only Tat)
First and foremost, thanx to all those who came out last night to celebrate my born day (12/26), new gig and life in general. I had a blast (I'm sure) and looking forward to a great birthday weekend.
While in the shower yesterday I realized that come Sunday I would have had the tattoo on my right bicep for exactly 10 years. It’s my first and only tat, which I got for my 24th birthday. I had just broken up with my girlfriend of three years and I wanted to do something different. She was only my second girlfriend but it was a serious relationship and a hard breakup. After three years on lock and suddenly "cute," I wanted to commemorate my “freedom” in some special way.
The thought of a tattoo had crossed my mind from time to time but I never wanted to get something stupid that I'd regret two years later or would just look stupid at 60. As much as I wanted one I wouldn't do it until I had the right idea.
In the months leading up to my birthday I'd think on what to get should I actually go through with getting a tattoo. My name seemed corny and extremely vain. The letter A was an option for a long time, but, still, it felt lame. I may have still been rapping back then, but that dream was fading and I had a feeling that having "Graze KUL" (pronounced Grey Skull) anywhere on my body would result in immediate regret and ridicule.
I'm not sure when or how, but finally it hit me—a phrase and image that would capture who I was now, then and always.
"I Write Therefore I Am..."
It was a play on Descartes' ancient philosophy on existence, "I Think Therefore I Am." It made perfect sense because at that point I was already two years into my career as a writer and no matter if I evolved into another field I knew that I would always write—even if it was a check. I'd written music in high school, poetry and short stories in college and now I was publishing/editing articles in the No. 1 music magazine at the time.
I was sold.
I just had to figure out the presentation. The more I thought on it the more the idea started to formulate in my mind. I wanted the words scribbled on an ancient parchment and written with one of those old feather quills.
Sick!
But I didn't know the first thing about tattoos so I went to my boy Mecca, who already had several, for advice and suggestions of a good spot. Before my birthday festivities took place that night he took me down to West 8th St. in the city to this spot he used to go to. We went upstairs and met the tattoo artist and I told him what I wanted. We picked out a font and he freehanded a sketch of what the feather and parchment would look like.
He nailed it.
Exactly what I had envisioned was what was on that paper. After we figured out the right size and specific placement on my arm (oh, and the price) I went to the back room and he got started.
Mecca and this girl he knew stood just outside the room talking to me while the tattooist set up. Everything was cool until that first series of needle marks pierced my virgin skin.
"Why-is-he-writing-on-me," I winced.
It felt like a hot pen being pressed against my skin and carving me up like a Jack-o’-lantern. I just wasn't prepared for the pain.
"Because he's giving you a tattoo," Mecca laughed. "Just keep talking to keep your mind off of it."
That's exactly what I did and it worked. As we cracked jokes and I flirted with Mecca's homegirl (hey, I was single and it was my birthday) the buzzing of the tattooist’s needle faded into the background. The only time I was reminded that he was actually puncturing my skin was when he got to the shading and talking was not an option. I closed my eyes, grit my teeth and bared it.
Mecca got a kick out of my discomfort, cackling, "Son, why are you making fuck faces?"
"What? Why are you thinking about my fuck faces? Sorry, I don't swing that way."
"Good one, Ans."
Whether or not I was making fuck me faces was beside the point, though, I just couldn't wait to get it over with. I'm not sure how long it took to complete but it couldn't have been soon enough.
When the piece was done I looked in the mirror at the finished product and I knew two things immediately. 1) I had a tat I could be proud of 2) I was never going to get another one. Sorry, but the rumors of tattoos being addictive were false in my case as one was more than enough for me.
After that we went to meet the rest of my boys at Bar Code, which was this overpriced bar/arcade that used to be in Times Square. Once we got bored there we headed to our official celebratory spot for any special occasion (i.e birthdays, paydays, bored days, Wednesdays…)—Bar Passion (R.I.P.). This was a hole in the wall strip club on 8th and 30-something but it was a great place to blow a few bills, especially when your boys are paying for the lap dances.
No need for all the grimy details but let’s just say I had a great birthday. The only problem was a few days later when I went to my mother's house and showed her my ink work.
Disappointed that I would mark up my body like that, she looked on with disapproval before speaking: "What does that say? 'I Write Therefore JAM?'”
"What?"
I nearly had a heart attack and ran upstairs to the nearest mirror to make sure I hadn't overlooked a major typo. To my relief I hadn't but the script I choice had a unique way of writing the letter "I” that kinda sorta looked like a “J.” Since I decided to follow Nas' album artwork and make the "a" in "am" lowercase that led my mother to misread the last two words on my arm as one word—JAM.
When I told my boys it became a running joke that to this day I still get ribbed for. Man, you gotta love mama. Ohhhhh, Jam.
Do you have a tattoo? If so, how did you come up with the idea for your first one? Is it something you love or actually regret now? Do you have a funny story about getting your first tattoo or watching a friend get one? Do you agree with the belief that tattoos are addictive? Do you think that tattoos on women's forearms are too masculine? If you don't have a tattoo why have you chosen not to? Scared, don't have a good idea or just not into them? Do you find tattoos sexy?
Speak your piece...
PS
Thanx again for coming out to the birthday party. I'll be treating myself to the gift of time off from blogging and to finally stop procrastinating get started on this book(s). So I just want to wish everyone a happy holiday (whichever you celebrate or don't) and a safe New Year. You can catch me on Twitter @NakedWithSocks but if not I’ll see y'all in 2011.
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