The title of the song - La Noyée - has something to do with drowning. As the piece was featured in Amélie, you can sort of make connections with some characters or something - but, as I know, this song was not written for the film, so the author might have a completely different idea.
I can only connect the title with the song if the drowning meant drowning in alcohol. Music this beautiful does not create an image of somebody fighting for his life in water, rather a struggle to stay afloat in some other depressing conditions, and for me, unfortunately, it is drinking. Mom always warned me, that, through the fathers line, the risk of addictions is higher in my family.
My dads father, while an incredibly educated and passionate man, ended up as a drunk, smoking by the fireplace - going outside was above his powers. And he became too weak or unwilling to think at all. I remember long walks through Riga with him, when I was not even school age, I remember him as my chess teacher who I could never beat (unlike my grandmother or dad), I remember him for the short, witty poems he wrote for birthdays, I remember him teaching me the classical Greek alphabet, I remember how he cried when I told him my pet rat had died, even though he hadn't seen it at all.
And then I remember him as the weird vegetable he was, not speaking or muttering nonsense, forgetting all logic as whole. This summer grandmother told me that he had to make a choice between a university of physics and mathematics or a conservatory. If he had not chosen science, he would have been a composer.* One of the things I took from home was a book on harmony that he used to own.
He smelled like cigarettes, always, that was his scent. There is a slight chance that I like the way my hair and hands smell after smoking because that's what I inhaled a lot in my childhood. Unlikely, but there is some comfort in believing this, a ridiculously useless addiction passed from granddad to grandchild.
One of the things I really fucking hate is forgetting, which I coincidentally do a lot. Why can't I recall more about the people I try to look up to? Why were the good memories of a grandparent I knew for 14 years summarized in two short paragraphs?
Coming back to alcohol, a paranoia overwhelms me. I have started to talk about drinking so much that there's a feeling it is actually a cry for help. Not a conscious one, but I never really bragged about it before, hinting that maybe this is too much for me. Technically, I am on the road to becoming an alcoholic, I drink alone, I drink often, and I really enjoy the process and results of doing so. Shit. This will spiral out of control and I will end up brain-dead, completely unsuccessful or just dead. And I can't even take this seriously, because the whole trip to the endpoints is summarized too beautifully in La Noyée.
Well, fuck you, I just made myself unhappy. Unfortunately, the sadness will be gone in a few hours without long term effects or any motivation to change a thing in the destructive lifestyle.
This is a birthday card I received from my grandfather. I was 9.
*Did he ever regret the decision as much as I regret my choice not to study music?
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