nearly passed out at Porchlight
I have a wild and vivid imagination, probably inherited from my mother. As a creative type, most of the time that comes in handy. On occasion, however, it can prove to be my undoing. The last time that happened was several years ago while watching Requiem For A Dream. Tonight it struck again as I was listening to a story at Porchlight.
The theme for tonight's stories was Tales of the Human Body. We'd been regaled by a few good tales and I was enjoying myself as I sipped a soothing mix of Kahlua and Baileys. Then Montrealer Frank Andrick took the stage and launched into an account of how he was simultaneously treated for diabetes and hepatitis. He was good. Really good. As he unveiled detail after detail I unwittingly began to picture myself in the story, as him. Pleasant was not a word I would use to describe how I began to feel. No, weak and queasy would be more apt. I slurped down my drink, hoping the alcohol would numb my mind, but it was too late.
Against my will I found myself experiencing a powerful psychosomatic reaction to the story. I held out until he was done and then got out of my seat and left the room. No sooner had I walked into the foyer than the tunnel vision I'd been experiencing brought me to an abrupt halt and my legs gave way. Still conscious and coherent but unable to pick myself off the floor, I accepted assistance from one of the staff who lad me to a couch, where I lay for a minute while my vision restored itself. Then I stepped outside for some fresh air and a couple of minutes later I was totally fine.
The other stories were good too but thankfully none of them involved lurid details about the effects of scary ailments.
