Tomorrow I am taking a dip in a salt pool. A friend of mine at work was telling me about her experience in the isolation tank and it sounded like what I want part of my own personal pan-Heaven to be like. I understand why it seems weird. It is totally weird. You get inside of some 8' X 4' tank and float in the dark for an hour. You're completely alone with whatever is going on inside your gourd piece and there is nothing to distract you from anything! ZOMG!
My main reasoning for this dip trip is that I can never relax. Anywhere. I go on vacations to beach resorts and I'm on my phone, reading magazines, reading news feeds, commenting on goddamn Facebook status' while I'm supposed to be Kentucky frying my skin off on some nice ass beach zone. I drink gallons of espresso all day long. I need to chill and normally I can't. Shit up top gets real real fiery and intense and I need some isolation. I also love being in the water whenever I can be, so, while this isn't the beach, it's water and I'll be floating my ass off for an hour, and when I get out, I hope to return at least once a month for the rest of my life.
Since I'm going to be experiencing some weird solo MIO times tomorrow, I wanted to let you guys in on the biggest piece of trivia about me. Save it for the future when there is one Jeopardy show dedicated to me and Trebek is a robo. Final Jeopardy.
My favortie book of all time is Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. One of the greatest novels of anyone's time. I remember trying to find a copy at somewhere gross like Borders and it was listed under "Horror." I called that bookseller a "horror," and wrote a letter to their corporate offices!!! Just kidding! I wrote that H8 mail to Phaidon! I digress. Here is a man, Dr. Frankenstein so lost and tragically marred by the events of his life that he becomes obessed with the creation of this monster. It's a situation not unlike the call and response attitude associated with the triple dog dare. Or really any situation when you want to do something, people claim impossibility, and then just to prove to them that you can do it, you do. The success of your endeavors is always a personal journey and no one can convince you one way or the other. Frankenstein brought inanimate pieces of human wreckage to life, and then immediately had creator's remorse. He destroys himself and the life of the thing he creates and I want to hug and punch at the same time.
At the other end is the monster her creates. A thing so horrible and grotesque that even it's creator shrinks back in disgust after he's realized what he's done. The chapters where we are first able to get inside of the mind of the monster we find it out, homeboy got mad problems son! Can you even imagine it? You wake up and you're made out of pieces of other deadzos??? You probably smell terrible, you look like something somebody barfed up, and you were ever so cruelly gifted with enough cognitive ability to recognize these things. The monster lives inside of his head and a body that terrifies all those sensitive ladies and children dickin' around Geneva.
Both Frankenstein and his monster live in a populated world, but neither of them can exist inside of it. The only way they can be anything is if they forget about the rest of the world, and disappear from it. We all go down together, me and this book that is. I would run into a burning building to save every copy I have of this thing.
I'll be thinking about it all day tomorrow afternoon when I am floating away on inside of a Space Tank.
XOXO
Betsy
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