Posts Tagged ‘red’

Goethe Month: Theory of Colours, Day 3 — A rainbow ain’t shit if it ain’t got red in it

July 18, 2010

Favoritest color in the world. And may I add that this journal is now going to be the first blog entry to get a Pulitzer prize due to my stunning combination of “rainbow” and “shit” in the same sentence?*


While therefore we may assert that the chromatic scale produces an agreeable impression by its ingredient hues, we may here remark that those have been mistaken who have hitherto adduced the rainbow as an example of the entire scale …


… for the chief colour, pure red, is deficient in it, and cannot be produced, since in this phenomenon, as well as in the ordinary prismatic series, the yellow-red and blue-red cannot attain to a union.

(Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Zur Farbenlehre/Theory of Colours, 1810 transl. Charles Eastlake. John Murray Publishing: 1840. p. 320.)

Take that, Newtonian spectral reasoning. Goethe was all like, “I’m no physicist but guess what? Suck iiiiiit.” Just kidding. They were both kind of right and kind of wrong. And I admit Goethe was slightly wronger.



*Actually once I knew this beagle that ate a half a box of crayons and later on his shit had faint waxy rainbows in its sheen, and I’ve frequently reported this to friends in pretty much exactly that wording (often predicated on only the most tenuous of topical connections — what can I say? It’s a good story and I’m not exactly a class act). So I suppose in truth now I have twice used rainbow and shit in a sentence, it’s just that this is the first time I’ve ever written it down.

What was I thinking and kindergarten fingernails

October 30, 2009

Helping my mother set up for a church luncheon today and, helloooo, it’s Special K’s big night — Homecoming! She is nominated for Queen, in case I did not mention it ten times today yet. What was I thinking? I need to get ahold of her and figure out when she wants hair, makeup, etc, and if she wants it from me or has someone else doing it, where homecoming even is (our high school does not have a stadium), everything. I’m way too busy to go picture-whoring!

Okay, Special K called right while I was writing all that. Info is straightened out. As soon as I hung up the phone started ringing in my hand; it was my mother calling to shout from some bulk grocery store where she was shopping for the luncheon with one of her trim old-lady cronies to ask what you put apples in to keep them from browning. “I hate to bother you but I’m sure you’re at the computer.” I told her it was lemon juice, confirming what the trim old-lady crony had suggested already, and was apprised of my portion of the set-up schedule. Suddenly my day went from quiet drive with my cameras to nonstop blow-up.

Blah! It’s all happening. I hate that I forgot this day is nuts and have no emotional groundwork laid in preparation. I have to be around people soon. I am not ready. Anyway, so I deduced that I have an hour or two before the chaos descends. So I painted my nails to kill some time, having let kidlet choose the colors (red with pink tips). I got random shakes, like I always do whenever a nail varnish brush is in my hands, so it also looks like a five-year-old painted them in addition to picking their style. It doesn’t matter how old I get, I always fuck up my nails. I can cook gourmet meals, I can apply layer after layer of flawless mascara, I can make perfect pincurls in my kidlet’s hair, but I cannot for the life of me paint my fingernails. I think I will always be a child in that department.