Vale, Campus

So here it is, the inevitable end-of-the-year-teary-eyed-remembrance. What? I cried? Haha, you bet I did. There'll be more tears as well, when I find the time to actually be upset. See, the worst thing isn't everyone else going, which is really very bad indeed, I mean what the hell, but instead the knowledge that you are the one who isn't coming back. Payback's a bitch.

The point is, I have managed to successfully complete a Bachelor of Arts Degree in the study of Music at the University of East Anglia, Norwich. Read it again, I mean, I had to several times in order to understand that I did it for myself all by myself...or did I? It hasn't always been a singular effort, and it's been squarely down to the involvement of individuals rather than organisations that have made the difference. Individuals represented by the choral scholars and the Organist of St. Peter Mancroft. Individuals represented by my immediate neighbours for this year in Nelson Court, various members of Colman House, and almost everyone I met in the last two weeks of term. What? Stick with me. I've met a range of people, a veritable cast of characters. I too have taken my place on the stage, calling roles from the Elder Statesman to Wicked Drunk and everything inbetween.

I look back on what I wrote when the year started, and see a man who feels unable to fit in with the depth of the responsibility when surrounded by the first flush of innocent Freshman youth. We all know the deal, right? A number of young persons seeking to quench their thirst for education are all bunged in together without having ever met in person before, and are expected to deal with it. And then sometimes there are old fogeys like me. I look now and am more pleased with my, er, general pattern. Aside from the usual gripes, I've been a lot happier on the whole. My direction is more positive, and I'm rather proud of myself thank you very much.

I do, however, still have a problem with living away from home, in as much as I bring too much with me. How much is too much? Right now, I genuinely fear that we won't be able to fit it all in the car. I brought four suits, including a hand made tuxedo, enough shirts to sink a dinner party, Jackets, Waistcoats, bows, ties and now also cravats. I effectively had enough to never ever wear the same thing twice. I brought seven musical instruments with me, notwithstanding my dulcet tones, and have more music now than I even realised I could amass.

Hiatus

So, that was 10 days ago. Since then, I've been to Truro and back to Norwich, drank copiously, pushed the strength of my digestion and other characteristic behaviours. I've been redrafting this as and when I had the chance, but writing in the Forum Library wasn't really my cup of tea, and I certainly didn't have the world's greatest amount of Internet access where I was staying. I wept for hours when they all went. I made my promises to come back, that I can and will keep. I gave my heart away, and to the right person; someone I can trust. I was going to give it to that Contralto, but the Waltzer cares for it instead. I have enough people who want to see me that when I go for a week I won't have to stay in the same place twice, in fact almost a fortnight's worth! I am very lucky.

Turns out that there really wasn't room for me to fit in the car, such was the grand collection. Everything came back with us except for a small chair on wheels, that has served me well over the past three years. There was simply no room for it! All the rest went home with mother dear while I tarried at Park Lane, NR2 for a little while, in which time I successfully auditioned for the position of Counter-tenor Choral Scholar ar the Cathedral Church of St. Mary, Truro despite suffering from Hayfever, Cat allergies and an horrific cold. Not a bad job eh? All in a day's work.

My tenure at Mancroft ended similarly to how it began, with a less than humane treatment from Madam Director. Oh well! I suppose it was always going to be that way. It appears that our professional differences will always remain, and hopefully I shan't suffer the like in my new Cornish appointment. Everything wrapped up at Spamcroft, really. Inevitable answers became apparent, and all's well that ends well...or something.

This is tough. I'm typing without a direction because I'm just so bloody upset about leaving Norwich. I'm tired of saying "I'm upset" and people replying 'Oh but think about that you're going up in the world and moving on!' Just shut up. I'd like to be sad for a while before realising the truth that yes, I am moving up and moving on. It's fine, I understand. I'll be back in a month for the graduation, and then I'll be back...well, whenever! I'd like to say that I'll always be back, but I might not be able to. I will return though, because I bloody well say so. Capisce?

So much more Drama

I've been trying to write a proper post for about a fortnight now. It's been surprisingly difficult, what with glorious victory on one side and abject failure on the other; pretty much like every day, right? Hah. It's getting tough now, as people are leaving the flat and I, of course, make my preparations to leave Norwich for pastures new. I can't even begin to articulate just how upset I am! Syllables cannot express my deep and powerful sorrow. I'm welling up even thinking about it.

This has been spurred on by my brother's latest effort. You too can find him, writing semiregularly by following the Fit To Practice link on the left hand side of my page. To be completely fair, this is going to be a lot more melodramatic than his, but whatever. That's the way it is.

This is going to be a rant about life, love, and the poor end of the stall.

My life continues! I have not died. Good show, old chap. I'm slowly but surely beginning to tell people about last year's suicidal tendencies, and not just as a shock tactic either. People don't know for a reason, but you know especially if some wag decides to mention killing themselves for the attention, it's nice to get a little context in. Not to mention the fact that a friend decided to take his own life not long ago. Committing Suicide is a very brave decision, actually, just like committing to anything else life changing. But it's just a brave to turn it down. Perhaps it was my mistake with the way everything went last year to have kept so quiet, but I did what I did because that is what I do. I don't bother you with my problems, instead I took to writing them up and posting them on the Internet which is what I'm doing right now. Writing about writing HOW META.

The last two weeks haven't been great though. One of my admittedly self-proclaimed best friends has taken to treating me like a poor acquaintance. Seriously, it's like I hardly know the man! There's been nothing particularly drastic, but put it this way, I haven't been out for curry since I got back from Exeter, he doesn't look me in the eye, and the handshake is now wetter than a piss sandwich. Allegedly, he is very upset because I'm going. Funny, but don't I get to be upset as well? Yes, I'm going for auditions and moving up in the world, but seriously come on! As if my departure to another city is going to effectively end a close friendship? Ridiculous. Friends come and go though, as I know as much as anyone, so perhaps things would have broken down, but there's no need to pre-empt, right? When a man goes from being your best friend, having been a tower of support in days past, with a solid track record of priceless banter to someone who doesn't even recognise you in the street? Fuck off.

Sigh. My end of the stall continues to be poor though, so don't worry! Everything is as consistent as ever. Basically, it's not a sunday service unless I get 'the hand' at least once. This hand is attached to and operated by the Music Director of the Church of St. Peter Mancroft, Norwich, where I have been for the past two very long years. There's nothing less gratifying than being told to pipe down week in week out, which is where half o the trouble last year came from anyway. But, I'm not overly bothered anymore. I haven't been for a while, because it's bordering on hilarious, having passed funny several weeks ago. We on the line, especially if I'm in a mood to cause some damage, can absolutely bank on me getting the hand. Not only are my top notes as strong as ever, they're getting stronger and I'm learning to carry this down into my full range. Even now when I decide to let rip, there's nothing anyone can really do about it. If I carry on to the stage, where I really want to be, there'll be no stopping me. Ho ho.

So. We've had my life. We've had the poor end of the stall. What's coming up next? You can have a prize if you guess. The prize is you get more to read, and even if you don't guess or guess wrong, I'll keep on writing anyway so you're not left out.

Things have been...how do I say...odd. I went all out and asked some ladies out that I had wanted to all year, when it boiled down to it...and they both cancelled on me. Haha no jokes, actual true story bro. So I asked one girl out a week ahead of time, and then she cancelled two days before we were supposed to go out, gave a tentative reschedule, and then cancelled that too. That was the start of the week. At the end of the week I was meant to be taking a girl down to the Playhouse Bar...eh, cancellation on the night. The actual situation is hella complicated, but involves me not being the right guy. As someone who finds it difficult to socialise and go out, even I was shocked. However, this is the way that you normal people get by, isn't it? Sometimes you just ask the wrong people and it ends this way. However. I am leaving my regrets well behind me now. I am no longer upset about it, because damn it I tipped the scales and asked, and I made my intentions clear enough, at least I would have hoped so? Here is a tip though, if I ask you to come to the Playhouse with me, ladies, it's because I really fancy you, and possibly even wouldn't mind taking you home with me. Basically. If I wasn't attracted to you, I wouldn't bother asking you out in the first place, let alone taking you to basically my favourite bar in the City. Right? Anyway.

Last night I went to the AMS Summer Swing Ball. Let's get this straight guys, I had the best time. I made some new friends, drank a hell of a lot, and danced with some of the most beautiful girls I have ever laid my eyes on. It may please you to know that I behaved myself, and was involved in no fights at all. I did dance with some people I would have loved to have been involved with though. The moment worth holding on to, for me, came at about one o'clock in the morning, as I took to the floor with the actual dictionary definition of beauty. Being the end of the night, and the end of the band's session, it was a swanky slow number. We danced hand in hand, leg in leg and cheek to cheek. I don't really know how to proceed with this bit, because it was all a bit ineffable really. For me, it was one of 'those' moments. She squared the circle: my whole world stopped and didn't start again until we let go, by which point I had discovered that my braces had come loose (you know you've had a good time) and I was shaking when I went to reassume my place at the table. She touched me in a way I can't begin to comprehend.
I lost her at the end of the night, basically. Not even a goodnight kiss for our eponymous hero, unfortunately. Tcham! Tush and tcham. I'm not actually that bothered though? I didn't get her number, or end up going home with her, and I'm not bothered. I have accepted that I'm pretty much a romantic failure. Basically! See, I had a wonderful time dancing with all the girls I did so with last night, and what need do I have to ruin it by clumsily propositioning them? That's right friend, I have no need.

Look at that. I managed to avoid getting too upset. Not for long though, as now it's only a matter of days until the end of this year. Joanna will leave on Thursday, and Georgia on Sunday. To put it bluntly, I have no idea how I'm going to deal with not having my flat living with me next year. I'll cope, because that is my business, but how I will go about it is another matter entirely. Adam's already gone! People are leaving for their summer, and then it'll just be my fellow spam scholars left. And then I'll go. And that'll be it for a long time. And that makes me so painfully sad.

Vignette XXI

So let's get this straight.

You went out to a formal Ball.

You danced with some absolute stunners.

You didn't get their numbers.

You didn't take them home.

You didn't even get a goodnight kiss.

And I'm not even bothered.

I had a brilliant time. And that, at the end of the day, is all that matters.

Although to be fair, I don't think I've ever danced like that ever before. She made me feel like it was just us on the floor.

If this is the beginning of the Valediction, then it is a most eloquent and fitting send off.

Vignette XX

I suppose it was inevitable. It had to be. I don't suppose I would have known what to do if it wasn't.

I'm...losing the will. The wrong person, or the wrong time, or going about it the wrong way. Nothing ever goes right.

So. Here's to the end of the week, the end of the degree, and to a certain extent the end of the world. I brought this one on myself, so no sympathy, thank you.

Even losers must make do.

Send the boy away, there is no place for him here. Not now. You need nothing but fire and clay. Go to hell.

...Please turn on your magic beam...

I remember when I met Morpheus. I remember where I met Morpheus. I remember how I met Morpheus. Dream, of the Endless.

I'd been interested in joining the Forum Library for a while. The UEA book bunker doesn't to graphic novels, but thankfully their sheet music collection is pretty good. There's an eight shelf island just past the borrowing machines in the Millenium library that's full of graphic novels, trade paperbacks, one-shots and so on. There's also a six shelf island that's full of Manga. Thanks to the library, I've been able to read the entire works of Nemesis the Warlock, several Batman series, Transformers Spotlights and so on and so forth.

One day, I was getting the train. I'd misread the timing and ended up in town an hour early. I don't know how, but I did. This was my second year, mind you, so I was probably just trying to get out of the house. I pulled into the library, and wandered up to the graphic novel island. Skimming across the shelves, I thought it was time to step up to the plate, and picked up Preludes and Nocturnes. This is the first collected volume of Neil Gaiman's Sandman comic. I say comic. I have difficulty in imagining buying Sandman in a monthly format, having never been a big comics buyer anyway. I'd always been afraid of the Sandman series, due to Dave McKean's artwork on the cover. There's nothing really frightening about it all. It's...how do you say, very primal. Raw and genuine. It is fully in control of its own mesmeric power. Anyway. As a child I was scared and intimidated by it, so I stayed well away. Having polished off Grant Morrison's Batman Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on Serious Earth, illustrated completely by McKean, I felt more confident, and took the plunge.

As the entire world already knows, Neil Gaiman is one of the most incredible writers ever. As you progress through the narrative, the entire mythology of the Endless is built from the ground up, appearing out of nowhere, an immacualte conception of fantasy. The Endless are...well, they are the personifications of universal ideas. Death, of course, being the most obvious, the end of all things, and Destruction, the personification of energy. The others are immaterial in aspect; Destiny, Despair, Desire and Delerium (formerly Delight). And of course, Dream.

Dream of the Endless, in his guise as Morpheus, the eponymous Sandman. Reading his character description on the most ubiquitous of all internet resources, passages like these leap of the page: "He is sometimes slow when dealing with humor, occasionally insensitive, often self-obsessed, and is very slow to forgive or forget a slight. He has a long history of failed romances...", "...defeated by his most tragic flaw, his inability to accept change..." and from Season of Mists, "accumulating names to himself as others make friends, but he permits himself few friends." I feel very close to dream. I too have more names than I will ever have friends. The only thing that reall seems to change about me is my weight and my appearance. Nothing in my wardrobe screams summer more than my current new taste in Cravats, but seeing as they're just archaic ties, where's the real difference anyway?

Ultimately, Dream is the most human of all the Endless, he is like an everyman. He makes mistakes, he condemns jilted lovers (I mean, who hasn't wanted the other party in an unsuccessful love affair to go to hell? Just sayin'), he has a house and grounds to tend to...kind of like normal people, if normal people were near-omnipotent spectral personifications of concepts. The Sandman series is a journey that we take with Morpheus, hand in hand, where we see these things happen. Where we see him consider the important things. Ultimately he makes a choice, whether to change or not. As he cannot, will not, must not, or crucially chooses not to change, he dies instead. What? Sorry, but I am a living spoiler. Morpheus ceases to be, but Dream does not. You must, dear reader, peruse the 10th book, The Wake, in order to discover what really happens in the end.

I'm sure there are times when anyone who's read Sandman can see a little bit of themselves reflected back at them in the shape of Morpheus; maybe, sometimes its something they don't want to see, and sometimes that's important. Criticism, especially when it comes from within is one of the most important and powerful forces of personal development.

The Wake touches me. It makes me cry. You heard me. It makes me sad in a way that I can't deal with. Maybe it makes me think about my death. But I'm not really worried about dying. I don't particularly wish to die, that much is true, but it comes to us all, and when my time is then my time is up. Like the Big Man, I'm not going until I'm done. But you read Morpheus' Wake and see for yourself. There's a copy in Derby Central, I'm sure they don't have it in Norfolk at all because it's too beautiful.

So go and meet Morpheus for yourself. Make your own mind up. Find him, and maybe he'll find you. Sweet dreams.

Vignette XIX

Some things are so secret, you can keep them from yourself. And you can even forget that you're hiding it. And then, of course, you remember.

I said I had a rule. I have a rule for a reason; to stop me from making the same mistake again. But...well.

Not to mention I can never tell when it's all gone a little too far.

Oh. Well.

Decisions, Decisions

You may notice that after March and April's fiesta of writing, things have calmed down a little round here. A lot's been going off, actually! Unlike the end of March, when I was stuck in writing my dissertation, the natural reflex was just to keep writing, funnily enough. I'm so much better at dealing with things in this written fashion, as you will well know by now. But this is a tough time. You know. I've two weeks before my final recital, and I haven't sorted my program out at all. TCHAM! Ok. Shit. No, it'll be fine. I mean, since when have I done it any other way? See? It'll be just like the good old days.

However. In the last few days I have made my mind up. About a lot of things, actually. The biggest of these is that I won't be staying in Norwich next year. OUCH. I know. I need a rest from higher education, but I need to stay away from home, basically. If I go back to Derby, what will I do? They won't have me at the Cathedral, and there sure isn't anything more singing in Derby, especially for money. I can't go home for any great length of time. There's no time these days to plan in relative relaxation for the next step, and to be fair, I should have come to this conclusion before the end of last year. But we all know how that year went.

I am casting the net, and looking at the Chuch Times. Oh yes. Time to find a place on the stall and trade my Songman status for a Choral Scholarship. If I want to continue my musical studies in any serious way, I'll need experience. And to me, there is no greater experience for a singer except for singing every day, which pretty much leaves one place only.
I've been very unfortunate at UEA, mostly having the wrong sort of face, or certainly the wrong sort of voice. My characteristic pungency and projection are definitely unwelcome.

With settling on an exit from Norwich, we have to consider the next most pressing matter. What about a girl? Well. What about a girl. It's funny really. I've made so many consecutive bad decisions that I don't know whether it's worth bothering any more. However. Last night, I basically ran into what I consider to be an unofficial Fan Club, made up of a small cadre of girls who live just across the courtyard! I promise to always look to your window when I pass. Hilarious! I still feel too flattered to do much about it, but you know. There's a glimmer of potential. I might just heave myself from my self loathing and do something about it. There's no time like the present, but I'm genuinely worried! You understand all the usual things. Mine is to do and die, regardless of how much of a scaredy I am.
But...I no longer Dream of Spires, nor any other vapid specimen. I've spent a long time wasting my time on people who will not and never will return my affection. I've been very very angry over the past few days about that specifically. People who turn out to be, at the punch, completely useless and not interested, but don't have the wherewithal to say so for definite. Because I so do love wasting my time. I reached this new level of ground a little while ago, but was looking back somewhat. Now, I won't turn around. Not even like Orpheus, out of curiosity. Ho ho!

On a day to day basis though, I'm doing a little more. I'm piling on the pounds after the disaster that was the Easter holiday health crash, and have been eating very serious amounts of very good food. Only two days ago did I make a Pasta sauce from nothing but bacon, garlic, chilis and chopped tomatoes. Absolutely godly! It won't be long before the Captain's Curry House can add a Trattoria next door. I'm getting up earlier on a more consistent basis as well, probably due to the sunlight streaming in through the gap between my shelf and the curtain...and the incredible amounts of booze I have ingested lately. Drinking always helps me get up early, as many a sunday morning can testify...
Ok, not many. But a few. I mean, I'm only saving up my Alcohol unit allowance to one point in the week, right? That's ok? Isn't it?
No, on the whole I'm much more active. It is the sunlight, what with me being solar powered, and the fact that I've now got my bicycle back on the road always does me good.

Now. You will excuse me. I have a lot of washing up to do, and then I must sojourn to the first floor of this flat. I'm far too worried to go to anybody else's for starters, but I have a place here. And will for a long time.