Sunday, November 9, 2008

colors

synesthesia syn•es•the•sia (sĭn'ĭs-thē'zhə) n.

1. A condition in which one type of stimulation evokes the sensation of another, as when the hearing of a sound produces the visualization of a color.
2. A sensation felt in one part of the body as a result of stimulus that is applied to another, as in referred pain.





I had cluster migraine brain aches from the time I was born until I was in about the 2nd grade. I know this because I remember the colors….

I tasted, smelt and felt colors, heard them. I was fascinated with them. Couldn't stop staring at them. A bright orange in the print of a shirt or curtain would set my saliva to pooling back in my ears, hearing the taste of sharp scraped rinds scratching a fingernail into the point of my head. A subdued green started in my cheeks…a bright one copper- tasting pricklies in my temples. And blue? If I saw a blue neon sign I could feel the grownups think, "The boy's catatonic, and we can't afford brain surgery. He sure is cute, though, gawking out the window. Never mind the drooling. At least he's quiet."

Sometimes the colors started my head hurting; other times the pain was already there and made me sense them. Either way the grey matter hooked up with other matters and eventually came to be a swirling mixed black alliance of pain. I never let on.

I peed all over myself, my desk seat, and pooled the floor in first grade. Embarrassing. I told the parents that it was because I was too shy to ask to go to the restroom. This was partially true. But the ultimate reason was that I had opened a big ol' box of brand-new crayons and got lost.

I was glad I had a bus seat to myself on the trip home. "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" on the driver's transistor, ignoring the fade-green naugahyde bench sticking to my skin… stretch out and let the constant yellow sun move through the windows and eyelids, yellow is good, yellow is warm, yellow is…naps bring no pain….

"Stevie, why did you miss your bus stop?"

"I fell asleep, mama."


In second grade I combined colors with math. Miss Fox noticed me poking my pencil at the air during a test.

"Stevie."

"Uh…yes'm."

Miss Fox leaned down to me. I liked Miss Fox, but I hated her getting close to me. She was one of those unfortunate folk who tend to spray spit when they whisper.

"What are you poking your pencil at, son?"

I wiped my face.

"Them watercolors up there near the ceiling, ma'am."

Miss Fox followed my pointing pencil. She had posted watercolor paintings from our class all around the room, high on the walls. Each one had its own subtle color differences.

"Yes, Stevie, but why are you poking your pencil at them?"

I wiped my face again. I was embarrassed.

"Ummm….'cause, see, the purples and reds are smooth even numbers, the greens and blues are odds and kinda rough…"



Then back to kindergarten:

Miss Gregory had one blue eye and one violet. I could NOT stop staring at her face.

(My dad couldn't either, but I suspect he wasn't getting a headache about it. Until Mama got him home, anyways. I also think Dad was a little annoyed with me for napping next to Miss Gregory every day.)

Miss Gregory introduced us to finger painting. My brain exploded with the options: Jars of every basic color, bright for young eyes, LOUD in my head, an easel full of neutral white paper. I imagine I stared and drooled awhile. I know I came to sometime later with fistfuls of paint and pain.

"Stevie."

"Stevie."

"STEVIE."

"Um ah yes'm?"

"That's a very…nice painting. Which colors did you use?" Oh. Miss Gregory.

I looked at it. A dark smear in the middle. Radiations to the edges of the paper shaped like fingers, each a different color.

"All of 'em, Miss Gregory."


This here piece is dedicated to my good bud Meggers. She knows the scientific names for afflictions and shit.

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