Baustelle – La canzone del parco


Baustelle

The german name was chosen only because it sounded good to Francesco Bianconi, talented author (maybe less as a singer) that works for his Baustelle but also for other pop singers in Italy and as a novelist. Baustelle often try to stay in a “pop environment” musically, but the lyrics are somewhat complicated and usually taking care of social issues or broken relationships. First amazing album “Sussidiario illustrato della giovinezza” was published in 2000, unfortunately the best one in my opinion (“La moda del lento”) is not available on Spotify.

La canzone del parco is another song from Baustelle’s debut “Sussidiario illustrato della giovinezza”, published in 2000. They aren’t my favourite band, but i’ve recently re-discovered their older songs. This one keeps a low tempo while Rachele Bastreghi sings the story of two youngsters who explore love and sex. “Tomorrow is far away” when they love each other. In the park a tree, in which they apparently carved an heart, witnesses their story and tells it from its own point of view. As opposed to its “eternal being”, it can only admit how these transient moments and feelings aren’t understandable and wonder what “these fragile humans” think of. A perfect depiction of the beautyness of ephemeral things.

“La canzone del parco”

Lui e lei ridono
Umidi baciano
Parole lievi
Leggère le piume

Se lui e lei fragili
Indecisioni
Al solito posto
La solita ora

Se lei e lui sabato
Dopo la scuola
Lo fanno sul serio
La colomba vola

 

Domani è lontano
Domani è lontano
Se mi ami ora

Se lui e lei ridono
Umidi baciano
Parole lievi
Leggère le piume

Se lei e lui timidi
Umidi scrivono platani
Con incisione di cuori
Sinceri se dicono
‘ti voglio bene’
Il parco sorride
La stagione viene

Se lei e lui nuvole
Di desideri
Si toccano puri
Il prato respira
Domani è lontano
Domani è lontano
Se mi ami ora
Domani è lontano
Se mi ami ora

Penso che
Ho di nuovo i brividi
E mi lascio prendere
Da domande inutili
Da poeti poveri
Sui miei rami umidi
Sulle foglie ultime
A che cosa pensano
Questi umani fragili

A che cosa servono
I miei rami stupidi
A che cosa servono
Se mi lascio prendere
Da pensieri inutili
Posso solo esistere
In eterno vivere
Senza avere gli attimi
Degli amanti giovani
Degli amori giovani

A che cosa pensano
Questi umani fragili
A che cosa servono
I miei rami stupidi
A che cosa servono
Se mi lascio prendere
Da pensieri inutili
A che cosa?

“The park’s song” 

He and she laugh
Wet they kiss
Soft words
Light the feathers

If he and her fragile
Incertitudes
At the usual place
The usual time

If she and he Saturday
After school
Do it for real
The dove flies [*maybe a reference to Leonard Cohen, “but remember when I moved in you /
and the holy dove was moving too”
]

Tomorrow is far away,
Tomorrow is far away
If you love me now

If he and she laugh
Wet they kiss
Soft words
Light are the feathers

If she and he shy
Wet they write plane trees
With carving of hearts
Heartfelt if they say
“I love you”
The park smiles
The season comes

If she and he clouds
of desires
Touch each other pure
The lawn breaths
Tomorrow is far away,
Tomorrow is far away
If you love me now
Tomorrow is far away
If you love me now

I think that
Once again i have shivers
And i get carried away
By useless questions
By poor poets
On my stupid branches
On the last leaves
At what do they think
These fragile humans

What are they for
My stupid branches
What are they for
If i get carried away
By useless thoughts
I can only exist
In eternal living
Without having the moments
Of young lovers
Of young loves

What do they think of
These fragile humans
What are they for
My stupid branches
What are they for
If i get carried away
By useless thoughts
What for?

Negrita – Magnolia


Negrita

The band’s name comes from Rolling Stone’s song “Hey Negrita!”. It actually means little black girl in spanish. They did their best between 1997 and 2001, turning a bit too much to mainstream afterwards. But they are still a good band, really exceptional in live performances.

Magnolia has been one of their biggest commercial successes in Italy, but was never included in an album, except for a hits compilation in 2003.

“Magnolia”

Lentamente scivola
la tua mano su di te
quel tanto che basta per trasformare
ogni carezza in un gemito
ti guardo accaldata contorcerti
tra le lenzuola umide
golosa ed implacabile
forza fammi male finchè vuoi
lo sai…

Pioggia io sarò per toglierti la sete
e sole salirò per asciugarti bene
vento arriverò per poterti accarezzare
ma se vuoi, se tu vuoi
tra fango e neve, fango e neve impazzirò!

Ti ammiro per come ti approcci
a questi anni mutevoli
mi piace quel tuo senso pratico
la tua forza e l’ironia
i cieli neri intorno a noi
sono soltanto nuvole
che dolcemente soffi via
e niente può far male più, lo sai…
lo sai…

Pioggia io sarò per toglierti la sete…
e sole salirò per asciugarti bene…
vento arriverò per poterti accarezzare…
ma se vuoi, se tu vuoi
tra fango e neve, fango e neve impazzirò!
impazzirò

Finché pioggia diverrò per toglierti la sete…
e sole io sarò per asciugarti bene
vento arriverò per poterti accarezzare
ma se vuoi, se tu vuoi
tra fango e neve, fango e neve impazzirò!
impazzirò! e pioggia io sarò
per toglierti la sete, per asciugarti bene, per
poterti accarezzare
ma se vuoi, se tu vuoi
fino alla fine, fino alla fine del mondo

Vieni con me, vieni con me, vieni con me
ad insegnarmi a camminare, ad insegnarmi a respirare…
con le mani, con le mani, con le mani
con le tue mani potrei morire, sulle tue mani potrei…

“Magnolia”

Slowly slips
your hand on you
just enough to transform
every caress in a moan.
I watch you, flushed, writhe
in soaked bed sheets
greedy and relentless
Come on, harm me as long as you want
you know…

Rain i will be, to wrench your thirst
and sun i’ll grow up, to dry you well
wind i’ll come, to caress you
but if you want, if you want
between mud and snow, mud and snow, i’ll go crazy!

I admire you, for how you approach
these changing years
i like your gumption
your force and the irony
the black skies around us
are only clouds
that you sweetly blow away
and nothing can hurt anymore, you know…
you know…

Rain i will be, to wrench your thirst
and sun i’ll grow up, to dry you well
wind i’ll come, to be able to caress you
but if you want, if you want
between mud and snow, mud and snow, i’ll go crazy!
I’ll go crazy

Until i’ll become rain to wrench your thirst
and sun i’ll be to dry you well
wind i’ll come, to be able to caress you
but if you want, if you want
between mud and snow, mud and snow, i’ll go crazy!
I’ll go crazy! And rain i’ll be
to wrench your thirst, to dry you well, to be able to caress you
but if you want, if you want
until the end, until the end of the world.

Come with me, come with me, come with me
to teach me to walk, to teach me to breathe…
with the hand, with the hands, with the hands
with your hands i could die, on your hands i could…

Caetano Veloso – Michelangelo Antonioni

*(unfortunately not available on Spotify, a short version is used here with Lorenzo Mattotti’s drawings https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k9mW4VMhBqc)

Caetano Veloso

Caetano is probably the most famous brazilian songwriters, i couldn’t write enough about him. Nine latin Grammys, two Grammys, composer, singer, guitarist, writer, and political activist. And definitely a poet. Classic and contemporary, he kept publishing albums from 1967, more than fifty so far, besides writing soundtracks. To have a glimpse of his talent, watch his performance (singing in spanish, a classic mexican song) in Pedro Almodóvar’s movie “Hable con ella”.

Michelangelo Antonioni is the name of the famous italian movie director, a friend of his, who actor Peter Weller once defined as “the first guy who really started making films about the reality of the vacuity between people, the difficulty in traversing this space between lovers in modern day”. The song was featured on 2001 album “Noites do Norte” and then used in the soundtrack of Antonioni directed episode in movie Eros (filmed with Soderbergh and Wong-Kar-Wai) in 2004.
A few lines in italian, images as if it was an Antonioni’s movie. Disconnected, enigmatic, dreamlike, without answers.

“Michelangelo Antonioni”

Visione del silenzio
Angolo vuoto
Pagina senza parole
Una lettera scritta sopra un viso
Di pietra e vapore
Amore
Inutile finestra

“Michelangelo Antonioni”

Vision of silence
Empty corner
Page without words
A letter written upon a face
Of stone and steam
Love
Useless window

Marlene Kuntz – La canzone che scrivo per te


Marlene Kuntz

When Cristiano Godano founded Marlene Kuntz, he wanted to associate the concepts of elegance and popularity of Marlene Dietrich with the vulgarity of “cunts”, unified in a german-like spelling (but “Kuntz” is also the title of a track in a 1987 album of american experimental band Butthole Surfers). This contrast hints at the attitude, as the band was originally mixing noise rock, metallic and loud, with poetry-inspired lyrics.

La canzone che scrivo per te is part of the turning point album “Che cosa vedi” published in 2000, a record that started the transition of the band from a hard-noise rock to a pop-influenced songwriter style. The song features the english singer Skin, leader of the (at the time) popular rock band Skunk Anansie. She wrote her own english lyrics, setting up a kind of imaginary dialogue with Cristiano Godano. He longs for love, he wants to know her (she’s mysterious, a fleeting gleam), while she keeps detachment and probably regards him just as a temporary amusement. The style of the lyrics is deeply influenced by italian poets that Godano loves, like Gozzano and Montale, so it’s lexically rich and sometimes old fashioned. First two lines “There is no contact of mucosa with mucosa, / yet i get infected of you” are widely remembered and identify the song.

“La canzone che scrivo per te”

Non c’è contatto di mucosa con mucosa
eppur mi infetto di te,
che arrivi e porti desideri e capogiri
in versi appassionati indirizzati a me;

e porgi in dono la tua essenza misteriosa,
che fu un brillio fugace qualche notte fa;
e fanno presto a farsi vivi i miei sospiri
che alle pareti vanno a dire “ti vorrei qua”.

Questa è la canzone che scrivo per te:
l’ho promessa ed eccola.
Riesci a scorgerti? Sì che ci sei,
prima che ti conoscessi.

Pure frigid waters from these eyes that always miss you
Nothing but violence from my empty gun
I’m using silver to light up these blackheart faces
blinding your fingers with my skin that burns for you

Questa è (this song) la canzone che (is for me) scrivo per te:
(I listen) l’ho promessa (I promised you) ed eccola.
(I can see me) Riesci a scorgerti? (in your words from hell) Sì che ci sei
proprio mentre ti conosco (that you write for me)

E ho le tue mani da lasciarmi accarezzare il cuore
immune da difese che non servono.

Ma ora ho in testa il viso di qualcuno (don’t don’t tell me) più speciale di me,
che sa cantare ma ha più stemmi da lustrare di me…(no don’t tell me)
e questo è il tuo svago (What you want from me).
Per quel che mi riguarda sei un continente obliato (no don’t tell me)
Per quel che ho visto in fondo mi è piaciuto (I don’t wanna her, don’t tell me)

Questa è (this song) la canzone che (is for me) scrivo per te:
(I listen) l’ho promessa (I promised you) ed eccola.
(I can see me) riesci a scorgerti? (In your words from hell) non ci sei più
dopo che ti ho conosciuta (that you write for me).

“The song i write for you”

There is no contact of mucosa with mucosa,
yet i get infected of you,
who arrive and bring desires and dizziness
in passionate verses addressed to me;

and wilt give as gift your mysterious essence,
that was a fleeting gleam a few nights ago;
and they are quick to show up my sighs
that say to the walls “I want you here.”

This is the song that i write for you:
i promised it and here it is.
Can you behold yourself? Yes you are there,
before i knew you.

Pure frigid waters from these eyes that always miss you
Nothing but violence from my empty gun
I’m using silver to light up these blackheart faces
blinding your fingers with my skin that burns for you

This is (this song) the song that (is for me) i write for you:
(I listen) i promised it (I promised you) and here it is.
(I can see me) Can you behold yourself? (In your words from hell) Yes you are there
just while i know you (that you write for me).

And i have your hands to let caress my heart,
immune from defenses that are not needed.

But now in my head there’s someone’s face (do not do not tell me), more special than me,
who can sing but has more blazons to polish than me … (no do not tell me)
and this is your amusement (What you want from me).
As far as i’m concerned you’re a forgotten continent (no do not tell me),
for what i saw in the end i liked (I dont want her, do not tell me).

This is (this song) the song that (is for me) i write for you:
(I listen) i promised it (I promised you) and here it is.
(I can see me) Can you behold yourself? (In your words from hell) You’re gone,
after i have known you (that you write for me).

Baustelle – Gomma


Baustelle

The german name was chosen only because it sounded good to Francesco Bianconi, talented author (maybe less as a singer) that works for his Baustelle but also for other pop singers in Italy and as a novelist. Baustelle often try to stay in a “pop environment” musically, but the lyrics are somewhat complicated and usually taking care of social issues or broken relationships. First amazing album “Sussidiario illustrato della giovinezza” was published in 2000, unfortunately the best one in my opinion (“La moda del lento”) is not available on Spotify.

Gomma is one of the (many) beautiful songs in Baustelle’s debut “Sussidiario illustrato della giovinezza”, published in 2000. A trademark mix of up-tempo music and sharp lyrics, this time talking about high school times, adolescents having sex and drugs in an otherwise boring context. The use of italian language in this song is not really proper one, definitely not the best to learn grammar from, but lexicon is interesting and inspiring.

“Gomma”

Settembre spesso ad aspettarti
e giorni scarni tutti uguali
fumavo venti sigarette
e groppi in gola e secca sete di te

tue cartoline-condoglianze
“hello bastardo ci vediamo”
l’adolescenza che spedivi
sulle mie tenebre incestuose-osé
ed il futuro stava fuori
dalla new wave da liceale
così speravo di ammalarmi
o perlomeno che si infettassero i bar

Novembre mio facevi freddo
la fronte frigo il polso a zero
sporcare specchi era narcosi
“potrei scambiare i miei ‘Le Ore’ con te ?”

Tremavo un po’ di doglie blu
e di esistenza inutile
vibravo di vertigine
di lecca-lecca e zuccheri

Vespe d’agosto in caldo sciame
per provinciali bagni al fiume
mi pettinavo un po’ all’indietro
superficiali ricreative pietà

Sabato sera dentro un buco
e disco-gomma-americana
leccavo caramelle amare
e primavere già sfiorite con te

E già ti odiavo dal profondo
avevo piombo da sparare
se stereofonico posavo
d’imbarazzante giovinezza lamé

E fantascienza ed erezioni
che mi sfioravano le dita
tasche sfondate e pugni chiusi
“avrei bisogno di scopare con te”

Tremavo un po’ di doglie blu
e di esistenza inutile
vibravo di vertigine
di lecca-lecca e zuccheri

“Gum” 

September often waiting for you
and gaunt days one like the other.
I was smoking twenty cigarettes
and lumps in throat and dry thirst of you.

Your postcards-condolences
“Hello bastard, see you”
Adolescence that you were sending
on my incestuous and risqué darkness.
And the future stayed outside
of the high school new wave.
So i was hoping to get ill
or at least that bars get infected.

November mine, you were cold,
forehead as a fridge, heartbeat [literally: wrist] zero.
To stain mirrors was narcosis.
“Could i exchange my Le Ore [old italian porn magazine] with you?”

I was trembling a little,
of blue throes
and useless existence.
I was vibrating for dizziness,
of lollypops and sugars.

August’s wasps in hot swarm
for provincial baths in the river.
I was styling my hair a little to the back,
superficial and entertaining mercies.

Saturday night inside an hole
and disco chewing-gum.
I was licking bitter candies
and already faded Springs with you.

And i was already hating you from within.
I had lead to fire
if stereophonic i was posing
of embarrassing laminated youth.

And sci-fi and hard-ons
that brushed my fingers.
Broken pockets, closed fists.
“I’d need to fuck with you”.

I was trembling a little,
of blue throes
and useless existence.
I was vibrating for dizziness,
of lollypops and sugars.

Baustelle – L’aeroplano

Baustelle

The german name was chosen only because it sounded good to Francesco Bianconi, talented author (maybe less as a singer) that works for his Baustelle but also for other pop singers in Italy and as a novelist. Baustelle often try to stay in a “pop environment” musically, but the lyrics are somewhat complicated and usually taking care of social issues or broken relationships. First amazing album “Sussidiario illustrato della giovinezza” was published in 2000, unfortunately the best one in my opinion (“La moda del lento”) is not available on Spotify.

L’aeroplano, unlike many other Baustelle songs, is completely left to the wonderful voice of Rachele Bastreghi, who has usually far less space than Bianconi. The stunning line “I love you and i never think about you” returns a sense of regret, as the memory of this former partner just flashes for a moment, like the airplane passing fast in the sky above. At the same time, underlined on purpose by a pause, we hear that “it goes far away, it flies over… Baghdad”, with a hint to the bombers that were attacking Saddam Hussein’s Iraq at the time. Like if from the dreamlike dimension of memories she/he has to get back to the harsh reality.

“L’aeroplano”

Che cosa resta di noi
che scopiamo nel parcheggio
Cosa resta di noi:
un rottame di Volkswagen.

Il ricordo, si sa, trasfigura la realtà
La verità se ne sta sulle stelle più lontane
Ci rimane una città,
un lavoro sempre uguale
Una canzone che fa sottofondo
all’indecifrabile.

Cosa rimane di noi,
ragazzini e ragazzine
La domenica dentro le chiese
ad ascoltare la parola di Dio.
Il futuro era una nave tutta d’oro
che noi pregavamo ci portasse via lontano.

Cosa rimane di noi
ora che ci siamo amati ed odiati e traditi
e non c’è più limite.

Sfreccia in cielo un aeroplano
Io ti amo e non ti penso mai
Penso a quello che ci resta
Vola l’aeroplano, Va lontano
Vola su Baghdad
Noi voliamo invano

Che cosa resta degli anni passati ad adorarti
Cosa resta di me
delle bocche che ho baciato in discoteca
Che cosa ne è della nostra relazione
Stupidi noi che piangiamo disperati
Che cosa resta dei sogni che avevamo nella testa
La nostra esperienza a che cosa servirà

Sfreccia in cielo un aeroplano
Io ti amo e non ti penso mai
Penso a quello che ci resta
Vola l’aeroplano, Va lontano
Vola su Baghdad
Noi voliamo invano

“The airplane” 

What’s left of us
who fuck in a parking place.
What’s left of us:
a wreck of Volkswagen.

Memory, it’s known, alters reality.
Truth is on the farthest stars.
What’s left is a city,
a work, always the same.
A song that plays as background
to the indecipherable.

What’s left of us,
little boys and girls.
Sunday in the churches
listening to God’s word.
Future was a golden ship
and we prayed it would have brought us far away.

What’s left of us,
now that we loved and betrayed each other
and there is no limit anymore.

Whizzes in the sky, an airplane. [i keep the subject at the end, T.S. Eliot approves]
I love you and i never think about you.
I think about what’s left for us, flies the airplane,
it goes far away, it flies over Baghdad.
We fly in vain.

What’s left of the years adoring you.
What’s left of me,
of the mouths i kissed in the club.
What happened to our relationship,
stupid us who cry desperate.
What’s left of the dreams we had in our minds,
our experience, what will it be useful for?

Whizzes in the sky, an airplane.
I love you and i never think about you.
I think at what’s left for us, the airplane flies,
it goes far away, it flies over Baghdad.
We fly in vain.

Baustelle – Charlie fa surf

Baustelle

The german name was chosen only because it sounded good to Francesco Bianconi, talented author (maybe less as a singer) that works for his Baustelle but also for other pop singers in Italy and as a novelist. Baustelle often try to stay in a “pop environment” musically, but the lyrics are somewhat complicated and usually taking care of social issues or broken relationships. First amazing album “Sussidiario illustrato della giovinezza” was published in 2000, unfortunately the best one in my opinion (“La moda del lento”) is not available on Spotify.

Charlie fa surf, published in 2008 album “Amen”, is a typical Baustelle song, with a catchy sound paired with fiercely critical lyrics. Direct inspiration is Charlie don’t surf, work of italian contemporary artist Maurizio Cattelan depicting a student nailed to his desk by two pencils sticked in his hands, but going back to the original meaning would lead to the masterpiece movie Apocalypse Now (here the scene with that line) and the Clash song “Charlie don’t surf”. The song in some ways make fun of the youngsters that are mainstream even in what they believe is their “transgression”.

“Charlie fa surf”

Vorrei morire a quest’età.
Vorrei star fermo mentre il mondo va.
Ho quindici anni.
Programmo la mia drum-machine
e suono la chitarra elettrica.
Vi spacco il culo.

E’ questione d’equilibrio,
non è mica facile.

Charlie fa surf, quanta roba si fa, MDMA
Ma ha le mani inchiodate.
Se Charlie fa skate, non abbiate pietà.
Crocifiggetelo.
Sfiguratelo in volto con la mazza da golf.
Alleluja, alleluja.

Mi piace il metal e l’ r’n’b.
Ho scaricato tonnellate di filmati porno.
Vado in chiesa e faccio sport.
Prendo pastiglie che contengono paroxetina.

Io non voglio crescere.
Andate a farvi fottere.

Charlie fa surf, quanta roba si fa, MDMA
Ma ha le mani inchiodate
da un mondo di grandi e di preti.
Fa skate, non abbiate pietà.
Una mazza da baseball, quanto bene gli fa.
Alleluja, Alleluja.

“Charlie surfs” 

I’d like to die at this age.
I’d like to stay still while the world spins.
I’m fifteen.
I program my drum-machine
and play electric guitar.
I’ll kick your ass.

It’s a matter of balance,
it’s not easy.

Charlie surfs, how much dope that he takes, MDMA
But his hands are nailed.
If Charlie skates, have no mercy.
Crucify him.
Disfigure his face with a golf bat.
Halleluja, Halleluja.

I like heavy metal and R’n’B.
I downloaded tons of porn videos.
I go to church and do sports.
I take pills that contain paroxetine.

I don’t want to grow up.
Go fuck yourselves.

Charlie surfs, how much dope that he takes, MDMA
But his hands are nailed
by a world of adults and priests.
He skates, have no mercy.
A baseball bat, how good it’s for him.
Halleluja, Halleluja.

Afterhours – Quello che non c’è

Afterhours

Afterhours are an alternative rock band from a small town near Milan, they started singing in english at the end of  the ’80s and switched soon to italian (even though they recorded some more english tracks). The name comes from a Velvet Underground recording, as the leader Manuel Agnelli loved how rich and various that album is, featuring calm but also violent songs.

Quello che non c’è is a song (from the 2002 album with same title) about not being satisfied while one constantly looks for something that is not what he truly wants, some goals that come from external expectations and to conform to society in a lazy way. In the end one ends up frustrated for not reaching something that is actually not there, instead of taking risks and be brave enough to reach something satisfying.

“Quello che non c’è”

Ho questa foto di pura gioia,
è di un bambino con la sua pistola,
che spara dritto davanti a sé
a quello che non c’è.

Ho perso il gusto, non ha sapore
quest’alito di angelo che mi lecca il cuore,
ma credo di camminare dritto sull’acqua e
su quello che non c’è.

Arriva l’alba o forse no,
a volte ciò che sembra alba, non è,
ma so che so camminare dritto sull’acqua e
su quello che non c’è.

Rivuoi la scelta, rivuoi il controllo,
rivoglio le mie ali nere, il mio mantello.
La chiave della felicità è la disobbedienza in sé
a quello che non c’è.

Perciò io maledico il modo in cui sono fatto,
il mio modo di morire sano e salvo dove m’attacco,
il mio modo vigliacco di restare sperando che ci sia
quello che non c’è.

Curo le foglie, saranno forti
se riesco ad ignorare che gli alberi son morti,
ma questo è camminare alto sull’acqua e
su quello che non c’è.

Ed ecco arriva l’alba, so che è qui per me
meraviglioso come a volte ciò che sembra non è.
Fottendosi da sé, fottendosi da me,
per quello che non c’è.

“What is not there” 

I have this picture of pure joy,
it’s of a child with his gun
who shoots straight in front of him
at what is not there.

I lost taste, it has no taste
this breath of angel that licks my heart,
but i believe i’m walking straight on the water and
on what is not there.

Here comes the dawn or maybe not,
sometimes what seems dawn isn’t,
but i know i’m able to walk straight on the water and
on what is not there.

You want choice back, you want control back,
i want my black wings, my cloak.
The key to happiness is the disobedience itself
to what is not there.

Therefore i damn the way i am
my way of dying safe and sound, that i cling to,
my coward way of staying, hoping that there would be
what is not there.

I take care of the leaves, they’ll be strong
if i can ignore that the trees are dead,
but this is walking high on the water and
on what is not there.

And here comes the dawn, i know it’s here for me.
Wonderful as sometimes what seems to be isn’t.
Getting screwed by oneself, getting screwed by myself
for what is not there.