Bollocks. Composition passed pleasantly enough. A bout of much hilarity ensued when the professor was going through our work. Some guy had given a piece of work in, and had marked a particular section 'espresso'. Of course, if you don't study music at all then you won't understand the joke, and you'll probably want to tell me to jump to the moon right now.
However, the evening worsened, and my mood correspondingly so, when we arrived at Barracuda. The place was annoying as hell (it was the second time that evening I heard Peter Andre's Mysterious Girl - got the idea yet?) and we just stood around saying nothing in particular. If this is what they call 'bonding' then shoot me right now.
The evening culminated in misery at the Cockpit - first off, the DJs played even fewer songs than I normally recognise, thereby limiting my potential to dance and generally act like the biggest tit on the planet. Second of all, I wasn't drunk. Third and finally, the girl I had my eye on got off with some pothead in a green cap. Now my evening was complete. I was about to walk home alone, as it was fucking cold and the others were just loitering about, but in the end I wound up walking with Ben. It still took us over an hour to get back from Cockpit - we got in at 3.30.
A dark day indeed.
EDITED 28/07/05:
I really goddamn miss that girl. Blew it trying to play it cool, and now I've lost her forever. She was one in a million - now she's almost certainly with some other guy. The extent to which I was hung up on her was so great that I kept going to Slam Dunk religiously for half a year after I last saw her. In the evenings after finishing my work, with my horrid housemates in the background, I would comb the local gig and pub guides, trying to determine the places where she might hang out. For a while, she was my life support, if only in my head - the one thing that kept me going because everything else was too tough for me to handle. It occurred to me that she could've dropped out of university, but at the time it puzzled me. She literally vanished without a trace.
To this day, I can still remember the last time we bumped into each other. In the Cockpit cloakroom at the winter Slam Dunk party, she stared so deep into my eyes. Time stood still. But I said nothing to her, and that was the first big mistake. Even "oh, I really like you" would have sufficed - nobody hates hearing that. Equally, it's clear that I can't go on living like this, under a cloud, for the rest of my life. It's so painful....I've become a living mess.
For most of my life, music has been my main release from regret and emotional pain. I have no idea what I would do if I didn't have it - virtually all of my output has been written in minor keys - a double cd's worth of grief. Ironically, the song I wrote for Jill was mostly major power chords, at odds with this description. Looking back, I suppose it couldn't have been anything other than a sense of renewed hope against the odds. It just never worked out, that's all.
I still miss her so much. What have I done to deserve this?
EDITED 06/12/05:
Two years to the day. I think I've moved on... but I have learnt a powerful lesson from all this: the past is a very dangerous force.
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