I have been involved with a museum exhibition here in New York City. The exhibit has been getting an awful lot of press and has been very popular, especially with people under the age of 25. I figure that's the age group that most needs to hear Morrissey's name, and get to know him, so...
I was interviewed by the curator for the catalog - the interview was wide-ranging and lasted for a few hours. I somehow managed to shoehorn Morrissey into the conversation. I pegged him as the last of the great
Men of Sensibility and linked him to the great romantic poets and other artistic visionaries who have defined the "Cult of Melancholy," and helped to perpetuate a certain cultural tradition that persists to this day.
I didn't see the catalog until the opening party. it is a lavish, full-color, hardcover affair. I was surprised to see that Morrissey has a page all to himself. I don't know whether this is my doing, but I'd like to think it is.
So that is the level of my love and dedication; I have squandered my intellectual credibility to ensure that Morrissey's name endures.