Skip to main content

Technicolor Rainbow

when i was small i used to watch old movies from the 50's. i began with black & white's and eventually got sucked into the comedic life of I Love Lucy on Nick at Nite. in fact, my family used to joke that Nick at Nite was my dad... there was something i always found so great about those movies and shows. the endings were always better than the current shows on, the clothes were better, and the whole world just seemed happier.

the first movie i saw in technicolor was The Wizard of Oz. after seeing it in black & white on previous occasions seeing it in technicolor was amazing, even for me who had grown up with color television. the technicolor was bright the color's more vibrant. i was entranced! later watching other movies in the magical technicolor i saw just how fabulous the clothes really were, how shiny and slick the mens hair looked, and how bright everyones smile were. i was in love with technicolor Rock Hudson. i was in love with the technicolor bathing suits in Gidget. well, as i'm sure it has become obvious i was in love with technicolor. 

today i was thinking about the things that make up our lives. defining moments, moments that will never be forgotten, and missed moments that leave you with regrets. i thought about some of those moments for myself and visualized myself going back and forth between black & white and technicolor, a little like the film Pleasantville, and i thought about how if i had to choose, i would rather live my life in technicolor than black & white. how do you do that though... when the people that matter, and for yourself, how do you keep from fading into black & white and how can real life compare to the technicolor brilliance?


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

¿Y la Prieta?

My grandma, Ita, called me Prieta. She called me this because my skin is toasted brown. When I was born my mom says I was light skinned, but she knew “que iba ser morena” because the inside of my little baby thighs were already darker than the rest of me. In the sun, I turn a darker brown. I get even more Prieta. It was a term of endearment. My sister, who has a light complexion, was called guera or guerinchi. When I tell people who don’t speak Spanish what Prieta means, dark or the dark one, their eyes open wide and a small gasp escapes. I see the offense they feel for me sprinkled on their faces like the freckles I will never have. When I try to explain, the offense still shadows their eyes. That is the problem with Spanish. Wait, maybe, that is their problem with Spanish. Even when I explain, they are suspicious. Their faces ask, “Is this true?” as if I am setting them up for a joke. But how can I explain the cultural and literal meaning of a word at the same time?
3 comments
Read more

Stream of Conscious Wednesday

At Village Inn, my favorite writing place. This one, is my favorite in the city. Bright orange booths with light fixtures out of Rock Hudson's Pillow Talk, and witty quotes on the wall like, "Never trust a skinny chef."  The cloudy skies stream in through tinted windows and continue to draw me away, seduce me into daydreaming about all the things I should be writing and trips I should be taking and money I need to be saving. So I can go high and low and down below the country's line I have never crossed before.  Then I look back to the screen and I think, Ita, Ita, what do I write about Ita. My thesis, a memoir, and Yeah, my stories are that interesting. There are many, but I need pictures, I need something, because right now they are floating, tiny little words on paper bouncing around outside the atmosphere of my brain.  Oh, there's an art show soon. I should go. It's starting to rain and it makes me think of dancing. Dancing Donna Summer style wi
3 comments
Read more

Los Dichos

No hay mal que por bien no venga. Tanto quiere el diablo a su hijo que hasta un ojo le quiere sacar. Mejor sola que mal acompa ñ ada. Tanto pedo para cagar aguado. Lo barato sale caro. Más seguro más amarrado. Para buen entendido muy pocas palabras. Para cada roto un descocido. Hijo pepe mariquita! Para pendeja no se estudia. Limosnero con garrote. Soy como Orozco, cuando como no conozco. La zorra nunca ve su cola ni el zorrillo su fundillo. El muerto y el arrimado al los tres días huelen. Amores de lejos, amores de pendejos. Estaba haciendo chili con la cola. Me  da diarrea con gusanos. Enfermo que come y mea, y el diablo que se le crea. La esperanza es la última que muere. El flojo trabaja doble. De noche todos los gatos son pardos. Una cosa es Juan Domínguez y otra cosa es no la chingues. Es de Don Cuco, entra la bola no se supo. Primero me besa un ciego. Dime con quién andas y te diré quien eres. No porque te levantas más temprano
2 comments
Read more