Emotional stratosphere

Huddled in a hallway making secret mindless chatter
A finger that points at you and the giggles that come after
Spreading all the latest news, those Lilliputians
Find their strength in number

Walk towards a noisy room, deathly quiet when you enter
Look across those shallow eyes that turn and smuggly whisper
Wait your turn in line, (I am waiting), but the teller
Shuts his wicket on your number

Had enough of this, small talk
The most useless information
Oh Small talk, making worse my situation
In ignorance grows, way out of control
When you're the last to know

Mutated seeds that snowball down the biggest mountains
Contaminated water flowing from never ending fountains
And it's carried on by all the empty lives
Living someone else's

Had enough of this small talk
The most useless information
Oh, Small talk, making worse my situation
In ignorance grows, way out of control
Had enough of this small talk
The most useless information
Oh, Small talk, making worse the situation
In ignorance grows, way out of control
And you're the last to know

When you're the last to know
Small talk, enough of that, small talk, ya,
Small talk, enough of that, small talk
Small talk, enough of that, small talk

V3.21

Small Talk

The image shows a slightly altered photo detail from: Tree Stump, Meanwood Churchyard, a photography by Tim Green from Bradford (Wikimedia commons)

________________________________________________________________________________

"They all go stupid in a race."
(Gustave Flaubert, 1821-1880)

The following text passage is mainly a translation from a blog by the author Goetz Eisenberg (*1951) called:
https://durchhalteprosa.de/ 
(which can best be translated as „Perseverance Prose“)

In the translation I have tried to stay as close as possible to the original text, however, due to phrasing, composition (etc…), I have used slight changes and additions.
________________________________________________________________________________

Desensitization

Apocalyptic images 
Every evening on the news 
Heat, fires and disease
Floods, earthquakes, famines, 
War and destruction…
We are given such a daily dose 
Of horror news 
That we loose 
The capacity for outrage and revolt. 
We become numb 
And also threaten to loose 
The abilities we need 
To have empathy. 

(ref1)
Then, as now,  	(2)
We should cry out 
And rise up collectively, 
But the mass of images 
And the flood of news 
Make us fall silent
And paralyse the hooves

All go crazy in a race …

The more drastic the images 
We are presented with, 
The faster we forget 
What we have seen. 
The abundance and above all 
The concreteness of the images
Is the best means 
Of making us immune
To others misfortune. 
This is a facet of the "dialectic of enlightenment" 
That is far too little considered:
The more clearly 
Barbarism can be seen, 
The faster 
We forget it. 
News had a greater impact on us 
When we only heard or read it. 
The images of it arose 
In our minds 
And then occupied us more than one time

All go crazy in a race …

(ref2)
Then, as now,  	(2)
We should cry out 
And rise up collectively, 
But the mass of images 
And the flood of news 
Simply fob us off
With the surface

All go crazy in a race 
They all go stupid in a race	(2)
and we float along with it…

Desensitization

Fine Food / Paploviante / Free Download
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Fine Food - Paploviante / Free Download

THE PIANO

To my granddaughter Ana, who is celebrating her first birthday today......

ANA'S GARDEN

Will you travel in my imaginary world :)) ?

I'd like to be a kite 
that floats and dives with the wind 
cut the thread that holds me

to lose myself in the universe 
and observe from time to time 
from afar the madness of the earth 

it seems that to be happy 
it's better to stay in line 
but I can't wait 

to soar like a seagull
to be able to cross the rainbow 
aim at the moon and the sun 
and talk to the stars as I fly 

board a ship 
as an ordinary sailor 
or even a stowaway 
on a voyage that would have no end 
no end...

like a bottle in the sea
I drift with the currents 
I go where time pushes me

i don't know where my prayers go 
at the end of the solar system 
I'm going to separate my two hands 

and stop imagining 
that a better world sweet and serene 
is just around the corner 
is tomorrow ... so

I'll soar like a seagull
cross the rainbow 
aim at the moon and the sun 
and talk to the stars as I fly 

board a ship 
as an ordinary sailor 
or even a stowaway 
on a voyage that would have no end 
no end...

Un Voyage (Translated)

Words I never thought I would have to write.

The great eSyrup, Thom Palumbo has tragically left us.
I am heartbroken. He has been a frequent collaborator and loyal correspondent over the last ten years. When I play guitar, I think of him and whether he would like it. When I write, I imagine his reaction. And now he is gone. He achieved his lifelong ambition of returning to Maine to live over the last few weeks. I was so proud he had done it. I had hoped for more of his time, his music and his humour. An incredible man.

We never met, but we had an uncanny connection. This was done but not finished nearly six years ago, in December 2017. Life and stuff got in the way. Time was our only enemy and sadly a cruel one.

Please listen to his fantastic legacy here and appreciate his beautiful art 
https://soundcloud.com/esyrup

Released with kind permission from David - I thank you and salute you.

Hedd, perfaith hedd, cariad

Be good

Nick

All other instruments - Thom
Guitars  - Nick

Pic: https://www.terragalleria.com/index.html

In Loving Memory Of ESyrup (Thom) - ESyrup and Nicholas Ridiculous

Remember / Paploviante / Open Collaboration Offer 
Paploviante: Bass, Composing, Arrangement, Mix, Picture and Mastering 
BPM 73
Chord Em
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Remember - Paploviante Open Collaboration Offer

Une ode aux perdants , à ceux qui n'arriveront jamais les premiers ...
Compositeur - Musique : Philippe SEGUINARD
Auteur mélodiste - Chant : Guillaume DULER
Chant : Sylvie TIRET
An ode to the losers, to those who will never get there first ...
Composer - Music : Philippe SEGUINARD
Songwriter - Vocals : Guillaume DULER
Singer : Sylvie TIRET
Lyrics:
Quand est-ce qu'on boit à nos étoiles
Même si le ciel est déjà mort
C'est vrai qu'elles brillent encore
Mais la plupart ont mis les voiles

Quand est-ce qu'on boit à nos défaites
A la puissance des vaincus
Nous nos blessures ont survécus
Quand leurs victoires sont obsolètes

Quand est-ce qu'on boit à nos amours
A celles qui saôulent de souvenirs
Celles qu'on n'a pas pu retenir
Mais auxquelles on pense toujours

Quand est-ce qu'on boit à nos héros
Aux révoltés aux cœurs ouverts
Ceux qu'ont joué avec l'enfer
La vie tatouée sur la peau

Quand est-ce qu'on boit à nos succés
Ces étranges malentendus
C'est à peine ce qu'on a voulu
Et tout juste ce que l'on pouvait

Quand est-ce qu'on boit à nos enfances
Illusions perdues à jamais
Comme la douleur d'un condamné
Qui sait qu'il va mourir d'avance

Levons nos verres aux regrets
Aux perdants de la gloire
Cicatrices laissées
Dans un coin de mémoire
Aux survivants sans médailles
A nous les moins que rien
Sur nos champs de batailles
Ombres du quotidien

Quand est-ce qu'on boit à nos fantômes
Toutes ces peurs qui nous soutiennent
Main dans la main elles nous souviennent
Vers la dernière demeure des hommes

Quand est-ce qu'on boit à nos futurs
Retournons nous voir s'ils nous suivent
Mais y'a personne pas âme qui vive
Y'a même pas de rats sur les ordures

When do we drink to our stars
Even if the sky is already dead
It's true they still shine
But most of them are gone

When do we drink to our defeats
To the power of the defeated
Our wounds have survived
When their victories are obsolete

When do we drink to our loves
To those soaked in memories
The ones we couldn't hold back
But still think of

When we drink to our heroes
To the rebels with open hearts
Those who played with hell
Life tattooed on their skin

When we drink to our successes
These strange misunderstandings
It's hardly what we wanted
And only what we could

When we drink to our childhoods
Illusions lost forever
Like the pain of a condemned man
Who knows he's going to die in advance

Let's raise a glass to regrets
To the losers of glory
Scars left
In a corner of memory
To survivors without medals
To us less than nothing
On our battlefields
Shadows of everyday life

When we drink to our ghosts
All these fears that sustain us
Hand in hand they remind us
To the last resting place of men

When we drink to our futures
Let's go back and see if they follow us
But there's no one, no soul
Not even rats in the garbage

© Philippe SEGUINARD/Guillaume DULER  Novembre 2023

THE PIANO

Cumbrian

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