Some things that are blue:


Book covers.


The police.


The sea.












There is no blue pigment in plants. Blue is even less common in foliage than it is in flowers.




You have gone down on the K10 checklist. You are less depressed and anxious than you were eight months ago. Your psychologist is pleased with your progress. She asks you to draw yourself surrounded by a shield of energy. The shield traps in good thoughts and deflects bad ones. Your psychologist is a paediatric specialist, and you wonder if this is an activity she asks her child patients to do. She tells you yours is the best drawing by an adult she has ever seen. You wonder if she tells this to all of her adult patients.




The male satin bowerbird is particularly drawn to objects that are blue. This may be because, his plumage being blue-black, he is vain. Birds go wild for sex in blue love shacks, reads a Science Online headline.




You read a self-help book. You do not want to. You cannot fathom its appeal. People, you think, should just buy serotonin shots, not read self-help books. You think maybe the whole genre is a joke. You think the authors (most of whom are men) are helping themselves to their readers’ (most of whom are women) money.




Spotify playlist: Blue.


Take Me Out – Franz Ferdinand.


Know-How – Kings of Convenience.


Nightcall – Kavinsky.


These are not blue, you think. These are songs you would dance to.




There is a club you’d like to go to on the weekend. You have not been to a club in months. You have heard they will be playing Motown songs all night. You have heard that the DJ starts at 11:30pm. You are 33, and it seems to you 11:30pm is around the time the DJ ought to be finishing up so you can be home in bed before midnight.




Time passes, wrote Joan Didion in Blue Nights. Memory fades, memory adjusts, memory conforms to what we think we remember. You think you remember you were happy.


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