Rubber Ring (I think I wrote this one before)
You do not want to believe.
You are sleeping.
Not any longer. Looking back on that salient year, 2004, has reignited a passion... a passion for accepting the truth. The truth that, as much as I have denied the fact or teased others about it, Morrissey's music has indeed saved my life. Maybe not literally. His songs have never loosened the noose, compelled me to drop the blade, or uncock the pistol. But figuratively they have. During my darkest hours, he has made me feel connected, understood, not so lonely.
I have always claimed that I don't need anyone's approval. But honestly, this is not entirely true. What IS true is that I don't seek approval for things which I do not value... traits, qualities that are not important to my identity or self-esteem. But I do want to be cherished, loved, and admired for the things I do care about.
Morrissey's lyrics make me feel understood, accepted. Like I am not the only weirdo in the universe. If this gorgeous, brilliant man feels this way too, then, well, I am not so alone. No other, I mean no one--poet or lyricist, has had this impact on me. Not even close. Not Tom Smith, Eddie Vedder, Michael Stipe, Nick Drake, or even Robert Smith.
The passing of time
Leaves empty lives
Waiting to be filled...
More, more, more! So easily our cups run dry. Why do we need constant updates... reminders of how great Morrissey's music is? Is the back catalog not enough? The fans are like drug addicts... always looking for the next fix... the next great, new song, or great performance. What if it never happens again? What if Morrissey will never write another song? Or grace a stage again? Well, being that he thrives of performing live in front of an audience, this would be sad. But for HIM... not ME. I am okay with the back catalog. I really am.
And when you're dancing and laughing
And finally living
Hear my voice in your head
And think of me kindly...
I am in a better place today than I was in 2004 when Moz's music was the soundtrack in my head. Playing, soothing, reassuring.
I will always have his songs. I could die a happy woman, if I only had ten of them to hear for the rest of my life. And, even if I could not see him sing them again--live or on video. The sound of his voice, and the lyrics, alone, would really be enough. They really would.
The passing of time
And all of its sickening crimes...
Morrissey is aging. Last time I looked in the mirror I decided I was too. It is a sad reality for every human that has ever lived. Morrissey may have serious health problems now or in the near future. Christopher Hitchens died six months after being diagnosed with esophageal cancer. The medical significance of Barrett's esophagus is its strong association with esophageal adenocarcinoma, a particularly lethal cancer. You know where I am going with that.
I don't want to lose another important artist again (I cringe using the term, hero.) I do hope Moz's health returns. It is greedy and selfish to expect him to produce more... hasn't he given me enough?
Though, I have to admit there is nothing more I'd like to read than his autobiography. The TIME is perfect for him to finish writing it... and share it with the rest of us. Hitchens penned and published his, Hitch-22, just a year before his death. Not saying... but still. I don't want him to lose an opportunity to share himself with us. That is, if that is what he wants to do. Life is short... for all of us.
The truth is, Morrissey, nothing's changed. I still love you, oh, I still love you... and not even slightly less than I used to.
Here is a little song, to remind myself, in case I were to ever forget, again...
For M. x
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