Blue

Today the blue letters run along my inner arm, from just above the bend of my elbow to my wrist. Sometimes the message is longer; sometimes it is shorter.

Yes, the words change each day, and often the shade of blue as well. Sometimes a pen, sometimes a brush, sometimes a finger dipped in body paint draw the lines and curves that form the letters. But a tattoo would never do. It couldn't evolve with the quicksilver of his mind and his imagination.

^116

And the colour of fire is yellow. Yellow and white and sparks flying.

Drawn as angry red and orange and yellow flames consuming a house in a child's drawing.

But you can see blue in fire if you look.

Blue fire. Blue flame. Blue heat. Blue desire.

The blue steals up your spine and shivers into your brain. Even if you are standing ten feet apart. Even if you are on another continent.

Blue is a hot colour.

Blue. It's cold, full of sadness and icicles. It's comfortable and common, country and urban, a warm sunny day and a chilly autumn evening. Blue is the oceans and the rivers, one-third of America's patriotism, peacocks and bluebirds, suede shoes and a cartoon dog. It calms and soothes the spirit while evoking a sense of professionalism. If love is the universal language, Blue is the universal color.

Blue and Grey.

Colours which lie close and comfortable to each other in shades.

Blue shirts and grey suits.

Grey suits and blue ties.

But oh!

What a bloody difference between the two once!

There is no civility in red death.

Blue's a nice color, don't get me wrong. I like blue, but blue and green, oh yeah! When I see colors like teal, aquamarine and verdigris, I just get a hormone surge.

Far out in the ocean the water is as blue as the petals of the loveliest cornflower, and as clear as the purest glass. But it is very deep too.


(The Little Mermaid, Hans Christian Andersen)

Blue is a feeling, but the blues is the cultural expression of a feeling rooted in African American experience.

When I think of blue, the blue-steel gleam of a gun barrel comes immediately to mind.

Occupational hazard, I guess.

Red and all its shades go with blood on the victim and evidence. Once yellow was the live oak pollen on a suspect's shoes.

I don't think I've ever used the colors of magenta or fuschia or puce or periwinkle or verdigris in any of my stories.

Verdigris. Hm. Maybe I should expand my palette.

Violet and blue are the colors of jazz; the tones of singing saxophones, and smooth night-time joys of Miles, Coltrane and the gang.

I love the different names of blue.

Two of the most popular shades, royal and navy, derive from human institutions.

But midnight, cornflower, blueberry, ocean, sky, and periwinkle come from nature.

We are surrounded by blue.