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barbara kolb - chromatic fantasy lyrics

the young woman at the next table is wearing a long, purple dress, and i consider inviting her to join me for lunch. the intensity and saturation of that purple make her a public figure in spite of her obvious self+absorption. presently she is joined by a second woman in purple, and i have missed my chance. but what if i appear tomorrow in a shirt of the very same hue? the following scheme would suggest itself: everyone has a wardrobe of ten colors, and my color for a given day is determined at random. persons wearing the same color congregate for meals and exchange information on the lives they happen to be leading. this would guarantee a perfectly artificial way of making new acquaintances and hearing new arguments. alas, the scheme requires that the art of conversation be reinvented as a general practice. here the fantasy ends

the young woman at the next table is wearing a long, purple dress, and i consider inviting her to join me for lunch. this invitation will surely be declined, nor would i be tempted to extend it under any other circumstances. but the intensity and saturation of that purple make her a public figure in spite of her obvious self+absorption. i think fondly of schoenberg, who supposed that a series of subscription concerts could be “private” if only representatives of the critical press were excluded. presently she is joined by a second woman in purple, and i have missed my chance. but what if i appear tomorrow in a shirt of the very same hue, which by now must be called schoenberg purple? for this reason, it was necessary to reject the advice of my colleague the graphic designer, who felt that the array of paint samples on my kitchen wall would be more impressive without the puzzling commercial designations. on the contrary, we wish to imagine the forms of life and figures of thought that might have yielded us harpsichord yellow, editorial beige, cartesian green. if a third woman in purple should now appear at table, the following scheme would suggest itself: everyone has a wardrobe of ten colors, and my color for a given day is determined at random by, say, the successive digits of the natural logarithm of my social security number. this seems orthodontically appropriate. what would dr. johnson have imagined for “social security” or “automotive emission?” of ten colors, and my color for a given day is determined at random. persons wearing the same color congregate for meals and exchange information on the lives they happen to be leading. this would guarantee a perfectly artificial, and hence natural, way of making new acquaintances and hearing new arguments with unusual hypersurfaces. alas, the scheme requires that the art of conversation be reinvented as a general practice. here the fantasy ends, and it does so with the names of three flutes: nai, venu, shakuhachi

a public figure, a long purple dress with unusual hypersurfaces, an impressive wardrobe of social security, the critical press, the puzzling intensity of automotive emission, the natural logarithm of dr. johnson, forms of life and figures of thought, harpsichord yellow, editorial beige, cartesian green, venu, shakuhachi

- barbara kolb lyrics

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