So I don’t really know my colors. Sue me. I don’t really care you know. I could give a flying flip that I’m not sure what Fuchsia is. Or Heliotrope. I know the primary colors. Like Red, Yellow and Green. Or Blue. Maybe. And I know you can mix these and get like a gazillion other colors like Mauve and Teal and Viridian. Who cares. I’m not color blind. I am color apathetic. I am aware that there are many colors but I choose not to dwell on them. Colors make my brain hurt.
The root of my color deficiencies stems from when I was a kid. I never had the Deluxe 64 Crayola Box Set. The one with the four small boxes of 16 crayons each nestled into one fantastic carton. The ultimate object of childhood envy and decadence. With the sharpener on the back. The Holy Grail of coloring. The Mother Ship Of Elementary School Art. Nope. I had the sad white trash version. About 11 crayons in a cigar box. Let’s see, I had two Reds, a Brown, a Pink, Burnt Umber, Yellow and four miscellaneous dark ones that could have been Blue, Purple or Black. You couldn’t tell because the paper had been torn off so you had to test each one down in the corner first before you colored Santa Claus’s belt a Grapey hue. Oh yeah, and I had a White. A White. Uh...usually the pages we colored on were White so this was absolutely useless. The only thing a White crayon was good for was a fake cigarette. So you could pretend to smoke when you decorated your pictures. If you could smear the end of the White crayon with the Red crayon you sort of had fire on it. Ah, nothing quite like a smoke when you are creating art. I never had the luxury of having the entire pallet of hues and tones from which to choose from. I never heard of Turquoise or Crimson. Who knew there was a specific color for flesh. Of course then we did not have to be politically correct. Now we would have to have Asian Flesh, African-American Flesh and Native American Indian Flesh crayons. Back then we just colored them Yellow, Brown and Red. All Honky’s you left the color of the page. Done. So I suffered from not having the correct colors. Sure I made do, but I rendered some pretty pathetic rainbows with my 11 crayons.
I’m not even sure what colors match. I remember walking out feeling like I was looking rather GQ in my self-chosen attire only to have one my wife say “You’re not wearing that are you?” “This? This? Of course I’m not wearing this. I was merely showing you what I am not wearing. I would never attempt to wear this outside this house. Nope. Ha! This is the ANTI of what I am wearing.” Most of this was caused by my lack of color coordination. To me, Blue is Blue. Is Blue, is Blue. Wrong. It appears that Wedgewood Blue, Cerulean and Azure do not blend well aesthetically. Sea Foam Green, Mint Green and Tea Green are really similar to me. But you can’t wear them at the same time. Apparently this can cause some kind of sensory overload. That’s why Carhartt makes everything Duck Brown. It takes our choices out of it.
If men ran the place (and we don’t), there would be no need for fancy paint stores. Sherwin Williams would go out of business. There would be only one place to buy paint. And they would sell it in White only. Transactions would go like this:
Kevin: Hey Herb
Herb: Hey Kevin. Need some paint?
Kevin: Yep.
Herb: Here ya go. One gallon of White.
Kevin: Thanks Herb.
But then Herb’s Evil Wife would start working there and ruin it.
Kevin: Hey Herb. [Smirking] Betty…
Herb: Hey Kevin. Need some paint?
Kevin: Yep. The usual.
Betty: Satin or Matte? White, Off-White or Cream?
Kevin: Aw jeez Herb……
Herb: I know.
Of course there is always the debate of whether or not Black is a color. Purists say that Black is a neutral and therefore not a color. Papaya Whip seems like a very neutral tint to me and it is a color. Not sure where I stand on that one. Don’t want to rile the purists. Whoever they are. The kids in the mall sure think it is a color. They all dress in entirely black. Wooooo! Scary. Sorry Timmy, painting your fingernails Black does not make you Lestat. Not much lamer than a wanna-be vampire. I like to walk up and jam a Silver cross up to their grill and say “Die you blood sucking bat from the Netherworld!” So far none have recoiled in fear and no smoking skin. Disappointing really. Yeah, dressed all in Black talking about shooting someone just to watch them die. Big deal, Johnny Cash has been doing that for 40 years. Get a new gig Count Chocula.
So I drive a Red truck. Drink Black coffee. Eat an Orange while I buy tickets online from JetBlue Airlines and go to work and have a Lime Soda. Sometimes I get in the heavy traffic behind the Yellow school bus while listening to Pink on the radio. Colors are all around me. I can’t get away from them. But that does still not keep me from wanting to wear my favorite color. Camouflage. It’s not easy being Green.
Later.
“There are only 3 colors, 10 digits, and 7 notes; it’s what we do with them that’s important”
(Jim Rohn)
The root of my color deficiencies stems from when I was a kid. I never had the Deluxe 64 Crayola Box Set. The one with the four small boxes of 16 crayons each nestled into one fantastic carton. The ultimate object of childhood envy and decadence. With the sharpener on the back. The Holy Grail of coloring. The Mother Ship Of Elementary School Art. Nope. I had the sad white trash version. About 11 crayons in a cigar box. Let’s see, I had two Reds, a Brown, a Pink, Burnt Umber, Yellow and four miscellaneous dark ones that could have been Blue, Purple or Black. You couldn’t tell because the paper had been torn off so you had to test each one down in the corner first before you colored Santa Claus’s belt a Grapey hue. Oh yeah, and I had a White. A White. Uh...usually the pages we colored on were White so this was absolutely useless. The only thing a White crayon was good for was a fake cigarette. So you could pretend to smoke when you decorated your pictures. If you could smear the end of the White crayon with the Red crayon you sort of had fire on it. Ah, nothing quite like a smoke when you are creating art. I never had the luxury of having the entire pallet of hues and tones from which to choose from. I never heard of Turquoise or Crimson. Who knew there was a specific color for flesh. Of course then we did not have to be politically correct. Now we would have to have Asian Flesh, African-American Flesh and Native American Indian Flesh crayons. Back then we just colored them Yellow, Brown and Red. All Honky’s you left the color of the page. Done. So I suffered from not having the correct colors. Sure I made do, but I rendered some pretty pathetic rainbows with my 11 crayons.
I’m not even sure what colors match. I remember walking out feeling like I was looking rather GQ in my self-chosen attire only to have one my wife say “You’re not wearing that are you?” “This? This? Of course I’m not wearing this. I was merely showing you what I am not wearing. I would never attempt to wear this outside this house. Nope. Ha! This is the ANTI of what I am wearing.” Most of this was caused by my lack of color coordination. To me, Blue is Blue. Is Blue, is Blue. Wrong. It appears that Wedgewood Blue, Cerulean and Azure do not blend well aesthetically. Sea Foam Green, Mint Green and Tea Green are really similar to me. But you can’t wear them at the same time. Apparently this can cause some kind of sensory overload. That’s why Carhartt makes everything Duck Brown. It takes our choices out of it.
If men ran the place (and we don’t), there would be no need for fancy paint stores. Sherwin Williams would go out of business. There would be only one place to buy paint. And they would sell it in White only. Transactions would go like this:
Kevin: Hey Herb
Herb: Hey Kevin. Need some paint?
Kevin: Yep.
Herb: Here ya go. One gallon of White.
Kevin: Thanks Herb.
But then Herb’s Evil Wife would start working there and ruin it.
Kevin: Hey Herb. [Smirking] Betty…
Herb: Hey Kevin. Need some paint?
Kevin: Yep. The usual.
Betty: Satin or Matte? White, Off-White or Cream?
Kevin: Aw jeez Herb……
Herb: I know.
Of course there is always the debate of whether or not Black is a color. Purists say that Black is a neutral and therefore not a color. Papaya Whip seems like a very neutral tint to me and it is a color. Not sure where I stand on that one. Don’t want to rile the purists. Whoever they are. The kids in the mall sure think it is a color. They all dress in entirely black. Wooooo! Scary. Sorry Timmy, painting your fingernails Black does not make you Lestat. Not much lamer than a wanna-be vampire. I like to walk up and jam a Silver cross up to their grill and say “Die you blood sucking bat from the Netherworld!” So far none have recoiled in fear and no smoking skin. Disappointing really. Yeah, dressed all in Black talking about shooting someone just to watch them die. Big deal, Johnny Cash has been doing that for 40 years. Get a new gig Count Chocula.
So I drive a Red truck. Drink Black coffee. Eat an Orange while I buy tickets online from JetBlue Airlines and go to work and have a Lime Soda. Sometimes I get in the heavy traffic behind the Yellow school bus while listening to Pink on the radio. Colors are all around me. I can’t get away from them. But that does still not keep me from wanting to wear my favorite color. Camouflage. It’s not easy being Green.
Later.
“There are only 3 colors, 10 digits, and 7 notes; it’s what we do with them that’s important”
(Jim Rohn)
posted by Kevonia at 11:34 PM
2 Comments:
Kermit............as always I am trasported in time and lost between the simplicity of life and my deep memories all the while smiling and chuckling to myself and outloud.
Thank you!
Oh yeah...........I never had the sweet mercedes benz edition crayola 64 set box with pencil sharpener either. I loathed all that did! I smiled with glee when the paper finally tore at the top of their perfectly sharpened crayons and they had to peel some of it off, leaving an uneven wrapper still on there! Ha.....no longer perfection for those spoiled 'lil brats! lol!
Only the kids in South Natick got the 64 set in their Christmas Stocking!
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