born on a red day.

I feel the greens wash over me and know I’m going to disagree. I suppose it’s like “seeing red” but it’s not. It’s greens. I live my life like a paint-by-numbers pad. I don’t like orange people, or the number six – because it’s orange. Don’t tell me your name and birthday in the same breath because it’s like throwing confetti at me. I only dropped out of two classes my entire collegiate career and both were the same math class. Mixing numbers and letters isn’t cool. Don’t write “7 pairs of shoes” but “seven pairs of shoes” – it’s easier. And the former isn’t grammatically correct anyway. You’re supposed to write out numbers ten and less, not that grammar has anything to do with this. Well, I suppose sometimes it does.

Sometimes I spend a great deal of my cognitive resources trying to just listen to what you say instead of imagining it in my mind, so yeah, I miss stuff. What’s today’s date? Do you want to know the color of the actual date, or the day of the week? Or the month? I live in a water color world. Sure, it makes poetry pretty damn pretty but I can’t say to someone “I don’t like your poem because the colors create a dissonant pattern.” Yes, I know “dissonance” is a word related to sound but you CAN hear color. Do colors not vibrate on different frequencies? Of course they do. And I don’t care if said author is considered a classic example of literary aptitude – they write dissonantly.

This is why I have a superb memory. Everything is color-coded and cataloged. I could tell you something you texted or emailed verbatim three years ago, where I was and what I was wearing when you said it, and what day of the week it was – at least. Maybe this is why I excelled in school and can’t stand certain tones of voice. I can’t be sure all of this isn’t just some wicked strong association technique I developed as a child. It’s unconscious, whatever it is. I see everything that you see, that this is black type on a white page but there’s a crayon overlay. It’s like that scene in the Wizard of Oz where everything goes from black and white to technicolor. Take that exact moment of transition – where the black and white scene is laid out underneath the technicolor scene, where the two presentations of the same scene appear briefly for the same moment one over the other, and that’s it.

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5 thoughts on “born on a red day.

  1. I only experienced these cross wired senses or Hallucinations while doing LSD or mushrooms. It was a neat experience during the trip. I think we do unconsciously vibrate like a tuning fork with our surroundings of colors and sound. You have some unique ways of tuning in! smiles…

    1. I’ve often been quite curious about LSD, but I’ve yet to try any such things. Although I do have a DMT molecule tattooed on my ankle, it’s not supposed to be a drug reference, though. 😛

  2. I love this–is it odd that I envy synesthetes? I guess it would make life more difficult in many ways, but I also think it might be wonderful in some subtle ways as well. 🙂

    1. Well, it’s difficult to ponder when it’s the only thing you’ve known. I have my suspicions if it’s linked to depression. It does make poetry more fun, if not more complex. To like or not like a poem for the context or for the color?

      1. It’s funny–I tend to make friends with synesthetes–two of my closest friends are, but one associates words and colors and the other does so with music and colors (he’s a composer). I’ve heard it can help when learning a new language. I can see how it would also be linked to depression–don’t ask me to explain that, because my explanation is the opposite of logical, but it does make sense in my head.

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