Friday, June 05, 2015


I took Hellion to see Macbeth, because it is one of my favorite Shakespearean plays and I really never get tired of seeing it. I think, counting the show at The Pearl in New York, I've seen it probably 15 times.

To the wonder of many, I don't have the same affinity for Hamlet.

"But you seem like such a Hamlet person."

No. I'm not a Hamlet person. Hamlet is an over-privileged teenager with some serious daddy issues, and a family life that was potentially worse than mine. Still, it would have been more appropriate, and potentially more historically accurate, to just cut someone rather than spending a lot of time going mad.

The production of Macbeth was lovely, a sweet, short, 90-minute show that was well staged, mostly on a black stage with minimal props and distractions. A production that was perfect for Hellion, who plays in a rendition of Merchant of Venice, but who had never seen Macbeth. Perfect length, and possibly a bit too fast paced as afterward we walked up the cold streets of New York and reflected on the acting and the drama of classic Shakespeare.

"Okay, okay, I mean, I get what happened, right, but like, there is a part of me that really doesn't know what just happened there."

We walked and I thought about it.

"Well, it's pretty easy," I said.

"Macbeth is the classic story of what happens when you stick your dick in crazy."




Tuesday, May 19, 2015

What happened to me? What happened to you!

I woke up at the normal time and thought, jeez my arm kind of itches. I scratch it a little and realize it feels a bit bumpy.


I look at it in the mirror.

Clearly, I’ve been attacked by some kind of mythical scorpion demon monster straight out of the Clash of the Titans. The skin is red and swollen and it looks like I have been recently tattooed in red up and down my entire arm.

“What in the holy hell?” I worked through Friday and did my best not to scratch it, but man did it itch and burn. Eventually I admit, I broke down and scratched and even a small amount of pressure tore the skin open and my arm started oozing clear fluid, which was also clearly not pus but some kind of weird bug venom.

“What in the serious holy hell?”

I spent the next hour around my bed trying to find any sign of the demon entity that had gone after my arm, to no avail. I was worried I had bedbugs. I changed the sheets, vacuumed the bed, and tried really, really hard not to scratch my arm. Fortunately I had a doctor’s appointment for a follow up check-up the next day. Unfortunately my arm burned and was becoming stiff, like board stiff, to the touch. Since nothing was turning black I deemed it not an emergency, but definitely something I wanted to have check out.

That night I didn’t sleep for fear of being attacked again while I slumbered. I tossed and turned and looked for alien creepy crawlies that wanted to take a chunk out of me, but saw nothing. Finally in the morning, tired, unrested I went to the doctor.

The nurse asked how I was and I told her fine except that on top of the regular part of the visit I had a bug bite I’d like the doctor to look at. She asked me to uncover it.

She was facing the wall when I pulled my dress off my arm. She turned back around.

“Holy fuck.” She actually jumped.

“Did you see what did this?”

“You think you wouldn’t be looking at the body of something if I had?”

“Okay, well don’t cover it up.”

She walks out. The doctor is looking at my chart and talking on her way in.

“I heard you have…Oh my god, what bit you?”

“Look, seriously, if I had a clue, I would have challenged it to an epic battle, fought to its death and brought you the head.”

She just blinked and stared at me.

“It’s oozing.”

“Since yesterday.”

“Okay, well, how do you feel about antibiotics?”

“Like it’s the best prevention for a zombie takeover of my flesh.”

The rest of my visit showed that I am healthy like a freaking horse. Over three weeks later and my arm still itches.