Inktober Day 4 and 3

Oh hello, there, I didn’t see you. Yes, yes, I didn’t post anything on here last night. Not because I did nothing for Day 3 of Inktober, but because I feel that a singular artwork doesn’t deserve a full write up. That however, means, that whoever wanted to see my artwork for the 3rd of October could do so only on Twitter and Instagram. I’ll rectify that later, Let’s start with the news.

Is Freezing OK?

For the fourth day of Inktober I decided to write something. Today’s prompts were Freeze and OK, or was it 0K?


Am I OK? I don’t know. My mind is numb, my bones are cold. Am I freezing? Maybe I am, but my mind is too numb to notice. This feels pleasant, this feels like a dream.

Oh shit? Am I freezing? Yes, oh god! But then again would that be so bad? Oh, I don’t know. I just want to get warm. Oh, hot chocolate would be nice, or how about a glass of hot milk with honey, and then just falling asleep. Oh, how much would I give up for a bed now? My eyes are getting tired. Maybe I should rest for a bit and dream of hot chocolate. Stop, stop, no, I can’t fall asleep now; I’ll freeze to death. Good, let’s stay awake. I need to concentrate. How many of these locked boxes are in this room? One, two … three … four … all locked. I wish I could get at, what’s inside. Five … six … seven. Hot chocolate would really be nice – no, no, I need to focus! Eight … nine … ten … eleven … Maybe just a small nap? I’m feeling warm. I can nap. Surely I’ll wake up before I freeze. Yawn. Someone will get me out of here, just … sleep.


This is just a vignette with an added quick line drawing, but now for what I made yesterday.

Robotic Bait

The prompts for the 3rd of October were Robot and Bait. I decided to make a tinder dating profile for one of them. Enjoy:

This concludes my summary of the last few Inktober Days, I hope you enjoyed it and if you’re here you can check out my other Inktober antics or how about my latest review of a song from Eurovision 1956.

2nd of Inktober

Randomised Pattern

As expected today, my creative juices weren’t as plentiful as yesterday. Today’s official Inktober prompt was mindless and Tuataria’s prompt was emoji. Plagued from a sleepless night and personal stressors, the only thing I came up with was a drooling emoji.

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Day_2 #mindless #emoji for #inktober2019

A post shared by Chwiggy (@instachwiggy) on

And well, because I was in search of a mindless task for my sleep-deprived mind, I fished an old technique out of the treasure trove that is my childhood: randomised patterns.

Randomised Pattern
The pattern was generated based on random numbers

I had a few more ideas, that never came to fruition within the bounds of the 2nd of October. Including a Zombie story. I hope I can put more weight behind tomorrows prompts. Until then feel free to take a look at yesterday’s eggy works.

I did, however, manage to do a Frankenstein’s Monster emoji. Here for a truly mindless emoji, I present to you the weirdly cute Frankenmoji:

A drooling depiction of Frankenstein’s Monster as an Emoji

This article has been updated to reflect the fact that I actually managed to do a quick mockup of the third project for today. – 2019-10-02 23:30 UTC

Schmaltz for the Glockenspiel

Hello, there. You thought I had lost my mind? I don’t fault you for it. After all, my last two Eurovision pieces, about both the first Belgian entry and the first German entry, were strikingly positive. If you thought this would start a streak of generally more positive reviews, I have to disappoint you. The song in question today strikes me as a technical achievement, that I absolutely detest. I detest it so much this review took me way longer than it should have and so long that I’m now in the midst of the creative endurance test of Inktober. But alas here it is, Le Temps Perdu or in English Lost Time by Parisian born singer Mathé Altéry.

I’m not up for much purple prose with this song. I could try to describe the heights Mathé Altéry reaches with her surely magnificent vocal cords, but to be honest, even if it might be a feat of technical prowess, I can’t enjoy it. It sounds to my untrained ear less like an artistic choice but more like an attempt at showing off.

Actually, after now listening to it for what is a month since my last review of a Eurovision song. It actually has grown on me. Don’t get me wrong. I still don’t like it and I still think the song’s long-drawn-out searches for the highest note could have been scrapped for the benefit of the audience. I, however, have to admit I don’t mind the song as much as when I wrote the introduction to this review.


As much as I’m not an expert in music, I’m not an expert in French either. I took a year of French courses in my ill-fated attempts at a university education. And while I have a certified level of A1 in the CEFR that is as of now, hardly enough to easily understand the depths of the lyrics Mathé Altéry sings. My way out of this is to rely on translations. I went to the length of double-checking if they are at least plausible, but as with every translation, translation is always a game of interpretation. The following analysis won’t withstand academic rigour, but then again no entry of this series claims to be academic at all. This is just my opinion.

The Glockenspiel or Carillon near Leicester Square in London, UK

The song is reminiscent of a long lost lover. Contrary to what Wikipedia states, Altéry is not, in fact, hoping her own song will distract herself from the pain of lost love, but she’s beseeching the carillon to take her pain away with its beautiful song. But what in the world even is a carillon? Well, it’s a Glockenspiel.

Well actually, it’s more complicated than that. Wikipedia’s article about Carillons opens up an interesting linguistic rabbit hole. There is a loop of cultural differences in action between French, the origin of carillon, German, the origin of Glockenspiel, and of course English, as ever multiple languages in a trenchcoat passing as one, going on. carillon in French translates to Glockenspiel in German, Glockenspiel in English translates to Metallophon in German and carillon in English translates to Glockenspiel in English.

The word “carillon” is said to originate from the French quadrillon, meaning four bells. In German, a carillon is also called a Glockenspiel; while the percussion instrument called a “glockenspiel” by English speakers is often called a carillon in French.

Wikipedia: Carillon

But back from these linguistic anomalies to the song at hand. The lyrics of Le Temps Perdu are quite rich in metaphors and optimistic sweetness. They are soft in tone and don’t fit well with the screeching that the vocals elicit in my mind. Reading the song, surprisingly enough, makes me hopeful. I like its images of moving rivers, and evenings and nights full of longing and languor. Even if in total it might be a bit too heavy on the schmaltz.

Sing, carillon, sing for my happiness

Mathé Altéry, Le temps perdu

As introduced in the last review, I made a Spotify playlist, now including Le Temps Perdu. If you really want to torture yourself, and maybe even find a liking to a few of the songs, feel free to give it a listen.

Other than that, I think, I’ll leave you with an encouragement to read into the other projects on this blog, namely Inktober and Touching a Tree, or if you want to you could start with the first Eurovision Review about De Vogels Van Holland. Thanks for reading, and have a good day. Oh and feel free to comment and share.

1st of Inktober

This is the first time I dared to try Inktober. I, at least, like to consider myself a creative mind. I don’t know if that is actually true, but if it isn’t, I don’t think practice hurts. I usually have trouble with sticking to projects so I don’t know how long I will stick with this. And I also don’t know in which way this will affect my progress with ongoing projects. I very much would like to keep up with The Importance of Touching a Tree and my Eurovision reviews, but publication might slow down during Inktober for obvious reasons of creative depletion. I very much hope this will not be the case, but I can’t guarantee anything.

The official prompt for today the 1st of October 2019 was “Ring“. I, in part, decided to combine this with a prompt list based on in-jokes of the Tuataria Discord Server, made by the wonderful Alys. Today’s prompt on that list was “Egg“.

My first idea was an eggy proposal. I just did a quick sketch with fine liners right before going to sleep (admittedly way too late.

Are those Ass-Eggs?

After a bit of sleep. I tried to do something a bit more ambitious. I’m still learning my way around with Adobe Illustrator and Photoshop, but I had a spacey Idea, building on a background I had completed for another project earlier in September. I struggled a bit with shading and with colouration, but also with making a believable egg-shape.

The rings of an Eggso-Planet

After this attempt, I moved away from the extraneous egg prompt and tried to do something else entirely, but I couldn’t keep my mind from drawing. I got inspired by someone else’s idea of colourful turtles and made my own sketch of very special turtles. Maybe, you could say a ring of turtles.

These turtles say trans rights!

But then I came up with the one to rule them all. And yes this is obviously a Lord of the Rings reference.

I’m really quite proud of this one.

This concludes my artistry for the first day of this endeavour. I hope I’ll be back for more tomorrow. I’ll leave you with a bit of writing, for some eggy rings:


Nowhere on earth, you can get egg dishes as delicious as they are in a small inconspicuous restaurant hidden in a small alleyway behind the local Tommyball stadium on Kepler 31 b – 01372. Every day when the shadow of Kepler 31 b – 01372’s or as the locals call it, Egota’s rings graces the capital. The local restauranteur and owner off The Egg Bar, Blod Farnsteik, opens the doors to his kingdom. 25 chefs employed by Farnsteik serve the most flamboyant egg dishes of this Galaxy.

The tradition of serving eggs on Egota is a long one, and only recently has it gotten a bit awkward. Only a year has passed since the local space ferry company made their first trip to a neighbouring planet mainly inhabited by the Egg people. Which of course is not what they named themselves, but what Egota’s sentient races decided to mock the suspiciously egg-shaped people from the said planet with.

Interplanetary race relationships are never an easy topic to navigate so Blod Farnsteik probably did well to diversify his business by investing in other restaurants with less controversial culinary themes. However, even if the servings of The Egg Bar have gotten their fair share of hate and ire on social media platforms, it would be a shame to lose the extraordinary cuisine The Egg Bar serves from sunny-side-ups to scrambled or to even creations I don’t dare to describe to earthlings not accustomed to Egota’s extraordinary gusto, everything that is egg-related. The egg bar is open every day from ring-rise to sunset. Reservations are recommended, especially during the high traffic season in April and October.

Synergise to Hell!

What’s my point with this piece? I don’t know. This is more of an experiment in branching my writing out to different topics. Please leave all the feedback you have. And if you’d rather read something different, please check out the last Eurovision-Review, my first poem on this blog or my serial fiction about trees.

“This feels weird” was my first thought when I clicked on Veritasium’s video on electric vehicles. At first, I thought it was only weird because Derek had applied his lessons about clickbaity thumbnails as detailed in his latest video on viral videos and the YouTube algorithm, but that was at best only part of my spider-senses going off. The first shot of the video hit me pretty hard. Derek walking through a lobby filled with new and shiny BMW cars. Apparently, he was invited to Munich by BMW. I mean that’s fair after all, many YouTubers I enjoy get invited sometimes by companies to film their videos there. The best example of this, that comes to my mind, is Tom Scott.

Still, this felt different, but why? I don’t think sponsored content is prima facie bad, and I think there are great examples of how sponsors can bring their advertisement slots to good use, convince viewers or listeners of their product and sometimes as with the brilliant Cards Against Humanity sponsorships on the Accidental Tech Podcast (ATP), in which they made nitpicky John Siracusa review a variety of toaster ovens. This, however, is at the extreme end of toasters sponsorships working well and enriching the content of content creators. In its way, it is a best-case scenario for both the creator as for the sponsor. Normal unintrusive sponsorships maybe play off of some traits or interests the content creator has, but don’t necessarily infringe on the creators content too much. Audible sponsorships come to mind where the creator just gives a few sales arguments, maybe a book tip and the sponsor, in turn, leaves the rest of the content alone.

John Siracusa’s Toaster Reviews

The two central Veritasium videos are different in two key points: Firstly, the sponsorship isn’t contained to a bounded ad read but comes up multiple times within the video. Secondly, the content of both videos is strictly dependent on the sponsor itself. Both videos wouldn’t make sense without the sponsor setting the video up.

For the BMW sponsored video, the sponsorship seems to make sense. BMW wants to foster an image of technological advancements and hopes to sell cars in a video that is fundamentally about cars. To be more specific: electric cars.

The relation of Starbucks to the content of Liquid Nitrogen seems even more forced. No one would associate their morning coffee with science & technology videos.

This is why the Liquid Nitrogen video needs the help of a made-up challenge. Starbuck has to challenge Derek to make liquid nitrogen because there is no other way to motivate a mention of Starbucks in a roughly ten-minute science video. Showing off the tech Starbucks actually uses to make their Nitro Cold Brew didn’t even make it into the video, and even showing off the admittedly cool pattern of bubbles only made it into the video as an afterthought, even more so than Derek trying Nitro Cold Brew for “the first time” at the start of the video.

It isn’t wrong, all the elements for a good sponsored video are present and still, it feels wrong. It feels wrong because it’s forced. It is awkward to look someone in the eye who’s trying to sell you coffee in a science video without having genuine synergies with the sponsor.

Let’s look at it from a different perspective, the one of the audience. We as viewers have a gut reaction whether something feels genuine or not. That gut reaction might not be true. After all, some people can act better than Derek Muller, but that gut reaction inevitably tinges if we are more willing to get interested in a marketed product.

Sure we have to decide on how we want to be convinced to buy products. Marketing and advertisement is an old industry and I can definitely see moral gradations between someone honestly saying: “Hey I work for Starbucks. And I think you would enjoy Nitro Cold Brew” and more clandestine or covert advertisement like product placement or even non-declared sponsorships. No one wants to read fake or paid reviews for a restaurant without knowing that those reviews aren’t genuine, but as an audience, we still understand there’s a genuine need for creators especially independent creators to make money.

YouTube’s monetisation scheme doesn’t necessarily provide enough revenue to keep a channel going. YouTube’s monetisation at least to an extent keeps content and advertisement separate. Of course, there’s “advertiser-friendly content” and content advertisers don’t want to put advertisements against, but the advertiser has no direct control or influence on the content. This relationship of content and advertisement is definitely the most transparent and least misleading to the audience, but that’s not what advertisement is for.

Hence the ideas of product placement and sponsored content. Blurring the line between pure content and pure advertisement is a winner for those who seek to earn money, but it has its disadvantages for the audience. Suddenly, judgements about products within the content might not be untinged by considerations for the advertiser. Is this cold brew really enjoyable or is the enjoyment faked to appease the advertisement gods?

Certainly, there’s a path for creators to enjoy the benefits of sponsored content without losing their perceived authenticity. This path is contingent on a careful selection of advertisers. The advertisements need to be somewhat related to the actual content, but also not too related to the content. If the advertisements are too far off from the content the target audience is probably missed, if the advertisement is too close too the content potential confusion arises. This is I think the crux with a Starbucks sponsorship in a Veritasium video.

Since I started writing this piece, CGP Grey announced in a video that his YouTube content would stop to be sponsored and that he would concentrate on crowdfunding through Patreon.

A Dark Embrace

The darkness reaches out
My heart is filled with doubt.

Past mistakes,
My mind incessantly shakes.

I can’t sleep
As my brain weeps.

This is depression’s bout

Julia – 09/2019

On the Importance of Touching a Tree 2

Rural Street near Freiburg

This is part two of a continuous story, part one is: Old Home

First Contact

Laura enjoyed the embrace of Dennis. It felt warm and fuzzy to be appreciated for who she was. And even if it had been hard to tell Dennis what was up with her at first. He had been so nice, loving, and accommodating. He really didn’t behave, like she had expected a teenage boy to behave.

She was caught up on this warm island in a bleak and dreary world. Had she ever felt that way? Well maybe, but not in a long time. They didn’t move. beneath them the boards of the garden path set into the grey and dark grey gravel that was her parent’s excuse for a front garden. The gravel kept in place by a wall of rectangular granite blocks, set into the ground at different heights, delineating the border of her parent’s kingdom to the grey pavement and street, above them the orange glow of the streetlight draining all other colours from the scene. Behind them, a bush, more a shadow than visible green, yet. It was early March.

She had fond memories of that moment. It had been the first moment in a long time where she felt at home, but now she was hurtling through the upper layers of the atmosphere at a breakneck pace. The engines were roaring beneath her. She was pressed into the cushioning of her seat. At this time there was nothing to do for her than to survive the enormous acceleration. “Even if something goes wrong, you’ll have no chance to intervene fast enough in the first stages of ascent!”, she remembered, her instructor told her. She had been scared then, and she was scared now. She tried to think back to that spring evening under the orange lantern. Maybe it would calm her down or at least make her remember why she was speeding through thinner and thinner strata of air.

Without a sound, a raindrop fell onto the gravel next to them. Dennis looked at it: “I guess we should move and look what’s up in the garden before it really starts to rain.” Laura looked at the wet spot on the ground for a little bit longer: “I guess.”, but she didn’t move her arms. She still held Dennis tight. “Well, you’d have to let go of me”, his voice interrupted the silence. “Oh, yes, I’m sorry”. She quickly let go of him and moved her arms behind her back, awkwardly shuffling a step back. She looked at the floor. She didn’t want to look him in the eyes. “Hey is everything okay?”
“Sure”, she replied still only raising her eyes slightly, trying to look him into the eyes, but repelled as if by magnetic force.
“Then, come on.”, he grabbed her hand.

Laura hadn’t realised they were already at the back of the house when she finally caught up with Dennis, who had moved fast pulling at her outstretched left arm. They looked into her parent’s backyard. It was relatively big, especially compared to the small house and how big the property looked. The premises were narrow, but long, and faded into a small forest at the end opposite to the house and street.

Dennis kept on running and tugging on her left arm: “Come on, it’s going to rain soon, you sure don’t want to sit in the cinema all wet and soggy!”

They reached the first trees, but there was something amiss. “This tree has moved!”, Laura exclaimed, “Look, it even left a trace!”. Dennis stared at the deep groove, that started a few meters behind the big oak tree and led all the way to its gnarly and scarred trunk. The old and leave-less oak was still standing on firm ground and didn’t look like it would move easily at all, but apparently, it had moved. The marks were evident. “Ho … How, does a tree move like that?”, Laura asked. Who would come into an unsuspecting garden and move an old and knobby oak tree? Had her parents withheld a garden remodelling from her? Had someone wanted to steal a tree? What if the thieves were still around? Laura caught herself nibbling at her nails, still starring onto the disturbed soil behind the tree.

Dennis stepped a little bit closer. With his left boot, he tapped a clump of loamy soil. It didn’t move but was left with a slight indentation from his heavy shoe. He exhaled.
“Maybe someone pulled it along with a rope?”, Laura asked.
“I doubt it, wouldn’t the tree topple first? And besides that, I didn’t see any tyre tracks or anything like that…”
“Maybe they were just very careful?”
“Sure, and it wouldn’t have been easier to dig the tree out of the ground then?”
“Okay, I admit, that sounds implausible, but the tree definitely moved. A groove like that doesn’t appear on its own … What if it was Aliens?”
“And that sounds more plausible to you?”, Dennis looked at her with incredulity.
“It was just a joke”, she backpaddled.

The rain had stopped, maybe it didn’t really want to rain, but who knew. Laura jumped over the groove. It smelled like wet grass and soil. She looked up into the bare and crooked branches of the old oak. Dennis called her. He had walked over to where the small forest got denser. The ground was covered with dry leaves and needles. It was soft. Laura could see his heavy boots sink into the cushioning the forest floor provided. “Look, these have moved too.” And indeed they had been pushed or pulled in the same direction. They hadn’t moved as far, but they had left a small gap behind them, where their trunk didn’t touch the soil anymore. Laura crouched down next to the leader of the trees. She laid her left hand onto the rough bark as if to keep balanced. She felt a slight tingling in her hand. What was that? She yanked her hand away.

Tentatively she reached out again, and even before she touched it she felt a weird hum in her hand. It was as if the tree was vibrating with static electricity. But trees don’t do that, do they?

She looked up at Dennis. From down here he looked so tall, even if in fact he was just a teenage boy of average height for his age. In fact, Laura was taller than him. But Laura didn’t think of her height, usually a source of great anxiety for her, she just said: “This is weird, this is really fucking weird!”

Dennis didn’t reply. What should he have answered? Of course, this was fucking weird. Why did she even have to say that? Surely, he knew this was weird. Why was human communication so hard? She looked around, avoiding to look at him directly.

“I think we should tell your parents what’s going on in their garden”, Dennis suggested after a while of staring into the forest.
“I don’t feel like telling my parents. They’ll probably just declare us out of our minds and in the end, they won’t be able to do anything anyway.”
“Eh, I just feel out of my depth.”
“I mean, fair, this isn’t something I see on the daily either.”

Laura tried to get up, out of her crouched position next to the tree. Her knees were slightly stiff. She struggled slightly but caught her tumble with an outstretched arm grasping at the rough tree bark. And there again there was that weird hum in her left hand, and it got stronger. Not only got it stronger though, but the hum also moved up her arm quite quickly.

And with a thunderous rumbling unusual for the season, the heavens opened their gates, and a torrential downpour hit the ground. At first, thick and heavy raindrops hit the dry and dusty ground forming small little impact craters and then the drops got more and more frequent, wetting the earth, wetting the leaves around the two teenagers. Dennis was dripping wet within a surprisingly short amount of time, but Laura was kept dry by the canopy of leaves that had blossomed from the barren branches of the autumnal trees in a speed akin to that of a time-lapse.

Laura’s attempt at getting up was stopped in its tracks and half crouched down half upright she looked into the leaves above her, her mouth open with wonderous astonishment, her face hit by a thick collected drop of rain every so often. Dennis turned towards her, his arms extended to his side as if hit with a cold bucket of water, and he just stared at her. She was slightly levitating, but she didn’t notice. All she noticed was a deep and sonorous voice calling out to her. Dennis couldn’t hear it, but she could.

“Hello, Laura!”

Speaking like a German Melancholist

Flag of Germany

Today we’re again diving deep into an entry to the 1956 Grand Prix Eurovision de la Chanson Européenne. Last time we talked about Fud Leclerc and his drowned men, today we’re talking about Walter Andreas Schwarz. This is the first German entry on our journey and I’m sure I’m biased in its favour just because I’m German too. Who even chose this title image? Blergh… I feel way too patriotic.

Before we talk about the song though, let’s first talk about the musician behind it: Walter Andreas Schwarz. Im Wartesaal zum großen Glück was Schwarz’s only big musical success, and even if it was good enough for participation in the final, it wasn’t enough for commercial success. His main line of work throughout his life remained voice acting. His passion definitely shows in his work as a singer and songwriter. His entry for the competition is mostly spoken and only interspersed with intermittent attempts at melodious singing. Schwarz died in 1992, and his sparse musical work remained deeply rooted in a tradition of straightforward storytelling, that to my ears is concurrent or even precedent to the tradition of German Liedermacher like Reinhard Mey et Altera.

Surprisingly, this song is rumoured to have been ranked second in the 1956 contest. Why I find that surprising? Because at least to my ears it doesn’t fit into the classic Chanson that is so defining for all other entries we’ve listened to so far. This is also a point where we could get into the controversies around the voting procedures in 1956, but I think, as it doesn’t actually matter to this song, I’m keeping that for a discussion of the actual winner, so stay tuned! Let’s better move on and discuss the song.

The song itself is around 4 minutes long and starts with flutes that would be worthy of any German feel-good television show intro from the 1960s and 70s, but the flutes get interrupted by a way less cheery accordion only seconds into the song, and with that, we’re into the lyrics.

The song title, that roughly translates to In the Waiting Room to Good Fortune, gives away the main point and image the song conveys. Everyone seems to be waiting and dreaming of their happiness, but in a way, this strikes the author as a Waiting for Godot. As Godot, luck will never appear (on its own). Positing that only those who seize the day will capture their luck while those, who wait for their dreams to happen, remain waiting forever, the writer strikes a chord of thinking that has been present in our cultural consciousness at least since Horace‘s famous aphorism carpe diem. Schwarz, however, moves further along this line of thinking, and his dreamers don’t even notice the luck they could attain. After all, they are waiting for their own special luck.

Und man baute am Kai der Vergangenheit
Einen Saal mit Blick auf das Meer
Und mit Wänden aus Träumen gegen die Wirklichkeit
Denn die liebte man nicht sehr
Im Wartesaal zum großen Glück
Da warten viele, viele Leute
Die warten seit gestern auf das Glück von morgen
Und leben mit Wünschen von übermorgen
Und vergessen, es ist ja noch heute
Ach, die armen, armen Leute

Im Wartesaal zum großen Glück, Walter Andreas Schwarz

And they built at the quay of the past / a hall with a view of the sea / and with walls made from dreams against reality / because they didn’t love [reality] much. / In the waiting room to good fortune / there were many, many people waiting / They waited for the good luck of tomorrow / and lived with the wishes of the day after tomorrow / and forget it is still today / Oh, the poor, poor people.

This song has gained a special place in my heart, not because its instrumentation would be amazing or the metaphor would be groundbreaking, but because its mood translates so well for me. I can feel the weird melancholy. I can feel myself live within my own dreams. I can feel both the pain of never seeing my dreams fulfilled, but I can also see the despair of me not moving forward through time and life, as if I had a third-person view of myself. I don’t agree with the song, that there is any magically glowing freight, that could bring light into my life. I don’t believe that there’s someone who could make my sunrise right now, but still, it feels weirdly descriptive of my life right now. And who knows? Maybe I can take this melancholic look into the world and make it my own, move on and take a step out of the waiting room.

But is it truly that easy? I might be getting too caught up in this fantasy … Where’s my cynicism? This song isn’t a straight forward carpe diem. There’s a problem. Sure you can say it’s just a beautiful image, but apparently, in the song’s world there’s an infinite amount of good to distribute, and people are at fault for not finding it when all they would have to do is to step out of their dreams, when in fact stepping out of your dreams can take some serious effort. Not everyone is in a place where they can afford to work for their own happiness, not everyone is in the right mental place to even step out and find their luck. I don’t feel ready to capture my luck. I know I should, but my brain is great at telling me what I should do and then being too fearful to do it. Reality can be scary. Dreams are an escape for those who fall out of our systems. And maybe there’s still a way to live your dream and not follow the idea of what a German voice actor would deem lucky or successful.

Well, we should probably not be too harsh on this song. After all, Germany after the war, was very much yearning for easy entertainment, light comedy and simple solutions. There had been enough pain and misery in the recent past, that at least some writers and many producers for television, radio and cinema, didn’t feel comfortable about hitting people over their head with deep and thoughtful works or about showing people the bleak reality. They felt people wanted to dream of a humble but gleeful future or past. And maybe, just maybe, this song is a subtle protest against this overly produced and glossy dream-scape.

I’m not as subtle. I’m, without a doubt, hitting you over the head with the weirdness that is early-day Eurovision. To make it easier for you to keep track of all the songs, I made a Spotify playlist of all the songs, we’ve talked about so far. Sometimes, there might be a sneak preview in there, but probably not regularly.

If you want to read the first entry, it’s about De Vogels Van Holland or if you want to get a full picture, feel free to check out the whole 1956 category. Or if you have enough of weird old songs, make sure to check out my latest fiction piece: On the Importance of Touching a Tree.

On the Importance of Touching a Tree

Saturn V SA-506 rolled out of the Vehicle Assembly Building

Old Home

Only seconds remained until she would be launched into space at a hurtling pace. She heard the countdown through her helmet, but it was distant. Her mind was preoccupied with her own past and future. She remembered her childhood. She thought about all the fun times she had on this planet, but also all the embarrassing little mistakes she had committed. She was sad, she had to leave this planet, but there was no other choice. She had to. But what would be on the other side?

“20 seconds and counting!” – “t minus 15 seconds, guidance is internal” – “12 … 11 … 10 … 9” – “ignition sequence start” – “6 … 5 … 4 … 3 … 2 … 1 … 0″ – ” all engine running … lift off” – “we have a lift off 32 minutes past the hour!”

She felt a rumble going through the rocket, she felt her body shaken, and she was shaken. Was this supposed to happen? A tear started running down her cheek as she and her rocket slowly started to move off the ground with incredible power.

15 years earlier she had been a teenager. She lived in a small house with a disproportionally big garden, somewhere on the outskirts of a small German town. Her life wasn’t poised to be a normal one in the first place. She had to fight for her right to be who she was anyway, but she couldn’t have known what history had in store for her.

“Mum, can I please go out with my friends tonight? Dennis is celebrating his birthday, and we wanted to see the new Apollo movie at the cinema.”
“Well, have you done your homework?”
“No, but it’s the weekend I can do it tomorrow, and I’ll still have time to spare until Monday.”
“Okay fine, but don’t stay out too long, I’ll expect you back by midnight at the latest. Even if Dennis is turning 16 tonight, you’re still 14, and you still live in this house.”
“Ugh, yeah, fine, mum!”

Laura wanted to be older. She wasn’t excited about her adulthood, but then, finally, she would be able to escape the control of her mum. Her mum was just too worried anything might happen to her precious son. Laura didn’t want to be precious. In a rare accident of obedience, Laura decided to start her physics homework before the evening commenced.

Physics was one of her favourite subjects, well, to be fair there weren’t many subjects she disliked. There were some teachers she couldn’t stand, but other than PE school was manageable for her. Her biggest issue was boredom. If not for her mum constantly checking her homework as if she was still a 3rd grader, she probably wouldn’t have done her homework ever, but who knows.

Her physics teacher seemed exactly as excited as her about the upcoming rocket trials, her only homework for physics was a question about rockets. She loved rockets and she was listening intently when Mr Lampert talked about the ongoing programs to open up a final frontier in space. She could feel his excitement and she was excited as well. She caught herself staring out of the window into the garden. She often beat herself up about the lack of focus she would bring into projects. It made her feel even more inadequate than usual and she worried she would never fit into society.

She looked out of the window again. It couldn’t be. Was she just hallucinating? She felt tired from her day at school, it was probably just her mind playing tricks on her. She looked down again onto her empty page and her physics textbook. Where was she? Yes, rocket propulsion. So rockets apparently flew by pushing out a somewhat constant stream of expanding fuel, and then, well, because of Newton’s principle that every force causes an equal and opposite reaction, well that would push the rocket forward, or well upward. But wasn’t this too easy? Well, yes, the mass of the rocket would change. so it wasn’t just two unchanging masses pushing against each other, the process of pushing would change the mass of the pushed object. Oh no, this smelled of differential equations – Wait! There it was again, something in the garden had moved again. And it wasn’t supposed to move, was it? Trees don’t just move on their own, do they?

Laura was thinking if she should go out and look for herself what was up. Maybe it was all just an illusion. A weird artefact of diffraction or a lapse of her judgement, she had had a long day after all. Going out there could have cleared up her mind, after all, it was probably nothing, or was it? She looked out of the window again. She squinted, but she couldn’t see anything.

Still wondering, what was out there, she returned to her physics homework, just to be rudely interrupted by her mum: “Jonas, come down and set the table, dinner is almost ready”. Oh god, did Laura hate this name, but was there anything she could do to convince her mum to not use it anymore? Probably not. To her mum, Laura was just a delusional child, not willing to accept what nature had brought upon her.

“Have you had a look into the garden today?”, Dennis asked when he picked her up after dinner.
“Eh, no? Well, there was … why do you ask?”, Laura replied.
“Ah, I just thought something looked different when I walked along the fence. Just as if something had moved that shouldn’t, but it was probably just my mind playing tricks on me.”
“Wait, Dennis, no! I saw that too. Earlier, when I was doing homework, I felt like something had moved, but I thought my mind was just playing paranoid tricks on me.”
“Always, the good child doing homework, but maybe we should check it out”, Dennis mocked her with a grin.
” I don’t know what if it’s something dangerous…?”
“Come on, it’s just your backyard what dangerous thing could there possibly be?!”, Dennis urged her.

Dennis grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the little path that led around the house into the garden. Laura wasn’t really enthusiastic about the garden. She struggled a bit, but the fight she put in was more for show than a serious effort to stop Dennis. She secretly liked Dennis’ spontaneity, she wished she wouldn’t always worry about every single possible consequence of her actions, but she did. What if it was a dangerous animal? What if her parents would think they were crazy? What if Dennis found something embarrassing about her in her garden? Wait, what could a garden even tell about her.

They hadn’t moved more than a few steps, they hadn’t even passed the kitchen window when Laura’s mum screamed: “Jonas, don’t forget your jacket. It’s going to be cold today!”. Dennis stopped and looked at her slightly baffled. Laura just rolled her eyes. “When is your mum finally going to use the name you picked?”
“I don’t know. I’ve tried to tell her before, but…”. A tear ran down Laura’s cheek, glistening in the orange glow of the street lantern in front of the dark house. Dennis stepped closer on the slightly damp planks that made up the garden path and held her tight.

The second part of this story is First Contact. The whole story is collected in Touching a Tree.

The Seine and its Bodies

Fud Leclerc

Trigger Warning: This post discusses mental health issues and suicide.

I actually like this entry. That’s a boring first, but maybe a good opportunity to flex my positivity muscles … about a thoroughly depressing song.

Well then, this took me way longer than it should have. I, honestly, thought that I would struggle more with the horrible songs of this contest, but apparently writing about something I enjoy is the harder exercise for me. This isn’t helped by my general propensity to abandon projects in the face of adverse circumstance or to start way too many projects at once all the time. Though, this probably shouldn’t become a testament to my mental health, even if the song potentially warrants a discussion about mental health in general.

But let’s get started with Eurovisions third final entry: The song in question is Messieurs les noyés de la Seine by Belgian Artist Fud Leclerc. Again Fud Leclerc is a name worth keeping in mind as he represented Belgium four times on the stage of the Grand Prix Eurovision de la Chanson Européenne and would go on to be invited as a guest star for the Eurovision Song Contest 2005.

Messieurs les noyés de la Seine translates to the Drowned Men of the River Seine and that should be the first warning to those who were expecting a happy feel-good melody to hum on their way to work. While if your French is as lacking as my own would probably not understand what is going on within the lyrics, the musical accompaniment doesn’t exude happiness either nor should it. Not every song has to be happy, but this one packs a particular punch of melancholy for me. The six repetitions of the title within the verses of the song, make them into a melancholic mantra that is only accentuated by my inability to notice the subtle changes between the stanzas.

Wikipedia posits that the persona of the singer is caught up in “a loveless marriage” and wants to drown himself in the Seine. While I can find supporting textual evidence for the first claim easily, I’m not so sure about the second claim. First of all, Wikipedia mixes up what Fud Leclerc himself and what the persona in his song wants to do, but secondly while the persona is obviously weighed down by the troubles of love and considers quitting the game I don’t think that necessarily points to a clear intention to commit suicide, there are other ways to quit the game. Also at this time, I feel it necessary to point to the fact that Messieurs les noyés de la Seine is definitely plural in French. That much I know.

Pourquoi, si tout le monde triche, jouer encore le jeu?

Fud Leclerc: Messieurs les noyés de la Seine

But there is a point to be made about the Persona’s suicidal ideation. After all, the song ends with the words “Paris me doit bien un berceau / Je m’endormirai sans amour ni haine / Entre ses bras de sable et d’eau”: Paris owes me a cradle / I will fall asleep with neither love nor hate / in its arms of sand and water

Paris me doit bien un berceau
Je m’endormirai sans amour ni haine
Entre ses bras de sable et d’eau

Fud Leclerc: Messieurs les noyés de la Seine
Skyline of Paris
View of Paris for the terrace of Les Galeries Lafayette

Even though not Belgian, Paris is a fitting choice for this song. As a city, Paris is commonly associated with love and beauty and while Paris is a beautiful city and there are many romantic and scenic spots to be found within its boundaries, Paris still comes with all the dirt, grime, rats, and annoyances of big cities. This disconnect between anticipation and reality even lead to what’s somewhat jokingly called Paris-Syndrome. This is usually more accurately described as an extreme form of culture shock. The disconnect between the imagined City of Love and the pain love can cause us in reality, can certainly make our own loneliness feel more intense.

What still is surprising to me, is that I actually enjoy the calm melancholy of this song. It’s so far the only song that has managed to find its way into my vast collection of meticulously sorted Spotify playlists.

If you enjoyed this weird look into obscure music you can read the last post in this series or can take a look at the entire series so far, in the appropriate category. Or look at the next entry: Germany 12 points.