I woke up several times this morning, but not properly until 8.35. I was seven minutes late for my 9 a.m. lecture. Our 10 a.m. lecture was on Skriabin, and was much more interesting. Skriabin was very strange, into theosophy and all sorts of odd things; he thought he was in communication with Martians. He began to write a piece - a special temple was to be constructed in India for the sole purpose of performing this piece, naturally - and when his piece was performed there, the world would come to an end. But Skriabin never finished it, so the world is still here. Incidentally the beginning of something he set begins "I am God."
Then I had a meeting with Patrick Zuk; it was supposed to be about postgraduate study, but we rather discussed my depression, which was a very depressing conversation, and my music therapy essay. I have been offered two weeks for me to submit a new version of the essay as a first attempt. It was a rather dispiriting meeting, simply by virtue of the subject matter and the heavy emotion.
But hey ho, away we go, kill the dragon, kill the dragon, hey ho, away we go, kill the nasty dragon.
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