Frankenstein and Chemistry

Frankenstein and Chemistry

It was pure chemistry when Frankenstein’s Monster was introduced to his potential Bride, by their creator, Dr. Frankenstein. At least it was so, on the monster’s part. That moment when the lonely and forlorn monster, who had wandered the earth, feeling pangs at every moment, for the misfit he was, with no one to understand him, was the most brilliant depiction of hope and connection I had ever seen on the screen.

There she stood, his Bride, with all of her flaws showing in a very bold and gaudy way, in her frightful hair, her torn dress, and all of her scars, yet the Monster gazed at her as if she were nothing short of female perfection, rendered only for him to love and to bond with, in all ways, instantaneously, and completely. His heart was captivated by her, in a way that no outsider would understand, and no one ever needs to. Too bad she did not feel the same way,and recoiled and hissed at him for his efforts, but that is beside the point of my observation.

I long to become a Bride of Frankenstein, in a flash or a word, for some kindred spirit, who sees beauty behind my flaws, and touches me with a quiet fanfare of his heart, meant only for me, bad hair day, or not.  I promise I won’t hiss at hiss at him, either.

A Stupid Word

 A STUPID WORD


Recently, while getting coffee with a friend at a neighborhood eatery, I ran into a man, a musician I knew, from our local open mic. I said ‘hello how are you,’ and all I got in return was a gruff shake of

his head, and a look of annoyance as he passed me by. I looked at my friend with  surprise and query, and she simply said, ‘oh, don’t mind him, he’s just very lonely,.’ Yesterday, someone told me that he had died of some sort of prescription drug overdose, possibly suicide.
 

Lonely, is one of the stupidest words in the English language. It in no way describes  the depth of the  meaning as it really is. It sounds trite, and diminutive to call someone lonely or even say ’ I’m lonely.’ It reminds me of a  a nickname, like ‘Suzie,’ or ‘Ricky,’ cute, happy sounding names, that are short and unimportant.

So instead of saying lonely, let’s say what the dictionary defines it as, for instance: affected with, characterized by, or causing a depressing feeling of being alone;
destitute of sympathetic or friendly companionship, intercourse, or support.
I think that is more like what this poor wretch was living with, that contributed to his demise.

And by the way, this cute little word is also a death knell to a conversation of any type. In this modern world, it seems unacceptable for anyone to admit to being lonely, yet I know lots of people who are, and find it hard to do anything about. If we can’t even say this stupid word in describing a feeling to someone else how can we possibly admit that things are so wrong in our life at the moment and admit to feeling ,’destitute of sympathetic or friendly companionship?’ I, for one will start using the later as a means of expressing my isolation and gripping fear of abandonment.

Moonbeams

  Moonbeams


 Remember that scene in IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE? when James Stewart and Donna Reid were outside, under a moonlit sky, staring, all big eyed at each other, and waiting for the right moment to have a first kiss? James Stewart's romantic monologue deteriorated into a long, fantastic speech about how he would lasso the moon for her, so she could swallow it, and she would glow all the way down to the tips of her hair.   He was going to go on, but was interrupted by an old man sitting on his porch, who said, "Why don't you kiss her instead of talking her to death?" The best line in the whole movie was that one, as far as I'm concerned.
     Now I like to be kissed, but I really enjoy a man who can talk me to death, and look into my eyes at the same time. It doesn't matter if he's talking about TV shows, or blues music, or a what happened to him that day. A man who is interested in telling me something, anything about what he thinks, and can engage me about any number of topics is worth all the moonbeams in the night sky to me. Maybe I'll get to kiss him later, maybe I won't, but I feel like I've been taken to Paris during that conversation. I even dream about it.
     One night I had a dream about a certain man I talk to on the phone. In the dream, we lived in the same apartment building, and one day, I could not find my keys.   I knocked on his door and asked if he would help me find them.  He helped me look, and then I realized I'd had them in my jacket pocket, all along. I thanked him for helping me, and said as I was leaving, " I wish I could go somewhere with you and just talk."
     "Have you ever been to Paris?" he answered, smiling into my eyes.
     "Yes," I giggled, "but not in many years."
     Paris and moonbeams, Wow!!!

 There are moonbeams in Dublin, too.