"You have to try! You have to care!"

Oh my I wrote some halfway decent music there. One of these days I suspect I'll give it another go. Perhaps no software though. Maybe another year or so of cello practice... Just might even try to play live. Bloch's Prayer is coming along, I could see really actually enjoying playing it live and thus hopefully someday enjoying playing my own original compositions...

And so, wanted to reminesce about how way back in 1992 or 1993? I lived in Crete and there was this lady I only thought of as a friend, whom forever assumed I was thinking of as more. As did many others, which was all rather annoying. Such crude, barbaric people. Anyway, she was somewhat standoffish towards me. But one day she had it in her head to actually meet me halfway and be friendly and came to my room late one evening and in response I suddenly started acting a bit violent. Not towards her but with objects towards a wall and so on. It's a bit murky in my head just what I was doing. But she quickly left. Sarcastically said, "Impressive" I do recall as she was leaving. As she walked down the stairs that were on the outside of the building. I threw some trophy down to the ground far below (we were on the third floor). I think that's maybe when she said, "impressive" sarcastically.

Why, oh why, would I act in such an awful manner?

Thinking back, it was because I knew that there was no way this would work, no matter what, it had no chance, and I was suddenly consumed with an overwhelming urge to destroy it myself, instead of watching helplessly as it was destroyed despite my efforts to save it. So it was that I wanted to not be helpless.

And I was very much in the throes, perhaps, a very strong perhaps as I may just be making this all up entirely at this point, of belief in an evil god (on a nonconscious level) that was against me, that was destroying everything in my life. I was angry at it. And if I instead was the one doing the destroying, it shewed (lovecraftian!) that at least I KNEW what was going on....

Never any violence whatsoever was directed towards this women. Or any other, FWIW.

But somehow that moment popped into my head and I forgot why I acted in such a manner.... I think Kundera maybe touched on this idea in The Joke, concerning misremembering the past and persecuting ourselves as a result. But I can't really remember. That one single glass of wine at lunch hit me hard for some unknown reason. I wonder if certain foods play a role.