Searching For Skin

Against the advice of my therapist, I attended a rebirthing workshop over the weekend. She’s not a fan of these things, but something was really bothering me, and I didn’t think straight therapy was going to uncover it.

I won’t get into the mechanics of how it works, but it involves holotropic breathwork, and all I can tell you is that the experience was extremely powerful.

It worked. I re-experienced the most painful day of my life.

I’m not talking about emotional pain (though that has followed me ever since.) I’m talking about searing, excruciating, pray-to-god, toe-curling, mind-numbing, Mel Gibson-hating pain.

I returned from the weekend a complete wreck, and needing more answers. So I combed through a box of RJ’s old keepsakes, and lo-and-behold, there it was. An invitation that read: “Please join us as we celebrate the Bris Milah of Ron Jeremy Hyatt”.

A party! They had a fucking party! I’m in exquisite agony and they’re eating lox and herring.

And you wonder where I got the method chops to portray a monster in my new movie.