...And I realize how down to earth I am.
You and a few other people seem to have this image of Morrissey as an etheral being, reading poetry, haunting dark hotel lobbies, longing for his soulmate but knowing he is doomed by destiny to live alone, fleeing from possible contacts with an intellectual companion, crippled by shyness. A quintessentially romantic character straight out of some 19th century novel.

Like everybody else, I sense the weariness and the nostalgia and the simple desire to be loved in what he writes. But that's it. And there's the larger picture.

  I could never call him a poet, because at the end of the day, he is just a businessman. An introspective businessman if you wish. A sentimental one. But a businessman first and foremost. And a terribly self centered man. And a not very agreeable human being. And a control freak. And a bitching tart. And a bitter queen. And an unreliable friend. And a liability.

And I'm tired of people not seeing that, not because I wish to convince them, but I'm just tired that the people who see both sides end up playing the villains everytime here, just because they have eyes and ears and a brain.

And I am equally tired of Morrissey still making a show of only relying on his crowd of saintly fans, and their unconditional love, not because I wish he would rely on anybody else, but because this is not the truth of what he is, and if you don't show the world the truth of what you are, then you are not a poet.

No matter how successful you are, and no matter how much you delude yourself about it, and others delude you: a poet you're not.

A good businessman, is what you are. And you're "documenting" your life as such. And it's boring. Because there is nothing to report, since nothing exciting ever happens, except the business that eats up all your life.