Follow Through

HELLO yes I decided am going to post AT LEAST once a month in here (because I realized I at the last minute that I can actually follow through on this). I am mentally empty right now but I'm going to make a post about something god dammit! Uhhh school school school. I haven't gotten a haircut in a YEAR because I've been caught up in school and work and life. I need a haircut. So badly. Ugh. But all I can do is obsess about accounting because I am soooo so bad at it. I mean, all my life (until high school) I was a straight A student except in math. Starting freshman year I got 89s in every math class I ever took and it's been DRIVING ME MAD. And of allll the subjects I was alright at, and the few that I was good at, and the ONE subject I was REALLY good at...I chose to get a master's degree in what has amounted to MATH. Fucking hell. My life is hell. I mean...yes, it's hell, but not in a way where I actively fantasize about ending it all, so that's good.

I'm going to strive to name...
FIVE Other things that are good:
- Boyf
- Baby Elephants
- Naps
- Cute Underpants
- Carbs

There. I did it. Wasn't much of a stretch, I'll admit it, but maybe I can do 5 good things every month? I'm dubious about that part because I'm such a curmudgeon but I think I can at least post. Okay. Let's do it. POST POST POST POST POST

As Timely Now As It Was Then

You must be wondering how
The boy next door turned out
Have a care, but don't stare because he's still there
Lamenting policewomen, policemen, silly women, tax men
Uniformed whores
They who wish to hurt you work within the law
This world is full, so full of crashing bores
And I must be one, cuz no one ever turns to me to say
"Take me in your arms, Take me in your arms and love me"

You must be wondering how
The boy next door turned out
Have a care, and say a prayer because he's still there
Lamenting policewomen, policemen, silly women, tax men
Uniformed whores
Educated criminals work within the law
This world is full, oh, so full of crashing bores
And I must be one, cuz no one ever turns to me to say
"Take me in your arms, Take me in your arms and love me, love me"

What really lies beyond the constraints of my mind?
Could it be the sea, with fate mooning back at me?
No - it's just more lock-jawed pop stars
Thicker than pig shit, nothing to convey
They're so scared to show intelligence
It might smear their lovely career

This world, I am afraid, is designed for crashing bores
I am not one, I am not one
You don't understand
You don't understand

Nowhere to Go

I don't belong anywhere.

untitled

I see the world
It makes me puke
But then I look at you and know
That somewhere

there’s a someone


who can soothe me

Morrissey...esque

Every day I wake a newborn
But as the morning breaks I see
I too am broken, old, and used
Today is just like every day

All my friends are in their tombs now
All my friends are gone for good
I'm the last one left, and I am not good...

Who could love me anymore?
They found me worthy, now they're dead
I may have killed them all myself
Somehow I find I may not mind

All my friends are in their tombs now
All my friends are gone for good
I'm the last one left, and I am not good...

All I've left are my tomes now.

I like how they stipulate that I have to answer the questions "cleverly"

So Amanda just figured out how to do notes in Facebook and I actually like this survey - should be quite entertaining - but I don't do Facebook notes. So, of course, I'm going to publish it here. Excellent.

Using only song names from ONE ARTIST, cleverly answer these questions. Pass it on to 15 people and include me. Try not to repeat a song title. It's harder than you think.

Pick your band/artist: Morrissey (obvs)

- Are you male or female: Lifeguard Sleeping, Girl Drowning
- Describe yourself: Maladjusted
- How do you feel about yourself: I'll Never Be Anybody's Hero Now
- Describe your ex boyfriend/girlfriend: Little Man, What Now?
- Describe your current boy/girl situation: We'll Let You Know
- Describe where you currently live: Life is a Pigsty
- If you could go anywhere you wanted to go: I'm Throwing My Arms Around Paris
- Your favorite form of transportation: Ammunition
- Your best friend is: Glamorous Glue
- Your favorite color is: Black Cloud
- Favorite time of day: Tomorrow
- If your life were a TV show, what would it be called: You Should Have Been Nice to Me
- What is life to you: Seasick, Yet Still Docked
- What is the best advice you have to give: Do Your Best and Don't Worry
- If you could change your name, what would it be: Margaret on the Guillotine
- Thought for the Day: The World is Full of Crashing Bores
- How I would like to die: First of the Gang to Die
- My soul's present condition: Dial-A-Cliche
- My motto: I'm Not Sorry
- What's the weather like: Let Me Kiss You

The Afterglow

Marion and I went to see Morrissey last night. It was...


How Soon is Now? from Priya on Vimeo.

The Moz, as usual, said it best:

Time is like a dream
And now, for a time, you are mine
Let's hold fast to the dream...

Alright, April...

I haven't been writing much because I'm just treading water these days. Last semester felt more like an active pursuit, I guess. I just had more energy. Now I'm merely stalling as I count down to the weekend, over and over and over again. This doesn't bode well for my Accounting grade, but...it's kind of hard to care sometimes. I hate that that's the case. This Wednesday I'm going to see Ratatat at the Meridian, and then on Saturday I'm going to see Morrissey at Jones Hall. I'm getting geared up about that, and I know I'm going to goldbrick through another week by saying "It's Monday! I'll just work after the Ratatat show!" and then being too excited to do anything until Sunday because MORRISSEY! UGHHH.

My parents are on my back about helping them choose somewhere to go on vacation this summer(they're thinking Prague or Berlin or something), but I don't want to go anywhere. First world problems, I know, but I want to stay at home and concentrate on writing something of worth, finally. I realize now that I'm not a genius who can just sit down and create accidentally. I'm going to have to be one of those hacks that actually schedules out a time frame to write two pages of material. I finally feel motivated to do that, though, since an associate of mine at St. Thomas read one of my papers and asked me to write a piece for some school magazine, and said that if I was interested she'd see that I was nominated for a position on the board for next year. Progress!

This is why I haven't been posting. I feel too listless to get anything across without using the same five adjectives. Awesome. Lame. Ugh. Fuck. Morrissey. I'll be back after the shows, when I can predict that I'll be slightly more jazzed on existence than I am right now.

Dude. Fuck. Seriously.

So...I have been away for a week! I wasn't taking a hiatus on purpose, it was just one of those things where I went out of town and didn't sit in front of a computer, and fell out of the habit of thinking of things to talk about here. And then my parents and I had a fight so I've been too depressed to write. BUT I figure I'll try to get back into the swing of things by summarizing my weekend.

I saw Kyle's band play at the Cat Club (after a long and arduous process of trying to get into LA in the first place) on Thursday - it was totally worth all the trouble I went through to get there. I took a bunch of videos, and I was going to post one here, but the video editing program I downloaded (which has proven to be something of a problem, given the fact that I use Vista and .AVI files) needs to be a paid-for version before it lets me post anything without a big fat watermark in the middle. Enough sob stories about that. Maybe I'll just post a quick something from the weekend...


Intro and Last Song from Priya on Vimeo.

Okay. I hope you enjoyed that.
Then on Friday I mostly read Chaucer (because I had a presentation this Monday and needed to actually do the reading for once) during the day. Later, I went to see Coraline in 3D. That was UNREAL. I had a major Los Angeles Moment when I realized that someone was smoking out in the theatre and, since I was sitting in the last row, the smoke was wafting over me for the whole show. That was pretty interesting. Towards the end though, I mostly pitied the person who actually smoked the stuff, because shit got really scary, really fast. I just knew it would have turned into a really bad trip if I had been high. I found it to be very Gothic, which I liked. The more I read 19th century literature, the more I believe that I may be, like, into Goth shit. I shudder to think such a thing, but: rapier wit, a taste for the subversive and baroque, a high school career spent spinning in Glam and Punk rock, Morrissey, rare steak, a somewhat welcoming attitude towards death, the sneaking suspicion that I'm an evil genius lurking in disguise, deep and abiding ennui, a certain seething rage and simultaneous nonchalance at the ubiquitousness of human suffering...well, as Dr. Ian Malcolm would say: there it is. Anyway...

Later that night we went to see a midnight showing of The Princess Bride. I saw it once with my parents about...five years ago, but at that point I was more interested in watching Memento. Now I can appreciate the brilliance that can be accomplished even in movies for children - especially in movies for children, since it happens right under your nose. It was an old reel, I guess, and it kept slipping off the projector and stalling the movie. It was a good time, though.

Then, just as I was hitting my stride, it was time to come back to the grind and spend my nights sweating in anticipation of an uncertain future, as per the fucking usual. Spring break is coming up, though, and with it, SXSW, which should prove to be an adventure at the very least. In the meantime, I'm here. I'm here, I'm here, I'm here. And I'm in a mood.

Kim & Jesse & My Comments

Rules:
1. Put your iTunes, Windows Media Player, etc. on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS.
4. Tag 10 friends.
5. Everyone tagged has to do the same thing.
6. Have Fun! (Because I can never shut up, I'm going to interpret that to mean "make snarky comments after iTunes makes its selections!" Also: I fucking hate it when people say shit like, step 6: have fun! If you need to tell me to have fun, I will almost assuredly NOT have fun. AMIRITE?).

IF SOMEONE SAYS 'ARE YOU OKAY' YOU SAY?
Barbie Girl (Aqua)
This makes no sense. If someone responded with "Barbie Girl" to me asking this question, I would punch them in their crazy mouth.

HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOURSELF?
Don't Make Fun of Daddy's Voice (Morrissey)
Except...without the "Don't"?
PS THIS SONG ROCKS!

WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
Calypso (Spiderbait)
Yeah, I like total badassery and an instrumental appearance in 10 Things I Hate About You, if possible.

HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
Mutha'uckas (Flight of the Conchords)
HA! I'll feel like that tomorrow, when it's Friday.

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?
Out Ta Get Me (Guns N' Roses)
Out Ta Get YOU!

WHAT'S YOUR MOTTO?
Semi-Charmed Life (Third Eye Blind)
This survey sucks. I'm not even going to pretend anymore. I mean, I love the song and everything, but fuck!

WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
Enter Sandman (Metallica)
HAHAHAHAHA. I'm pretty sure this is the first accurate response of the night.

WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Hang On To Yourself (David Bowie)
I kind of understand this.

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
Love You Madly (Cake)
Yes, it's true, I think about the opening scene to Forgetting Sarah Marshall more than I'd like to admit.

WHAT IS 2 + 2?
I Guess You're Right (The Posies)
A blind man could tell you that!

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
Never Gonna Give You Up (Rick Astley)
Pretty much, actually!

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Santa Monica (Everclear)
Aaaand this survey just pissed me off again.

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Crazy in Love (Beyonce)
I'm there already, baby. EWWW!

WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Kiss Me (Sixpence None the Richer)
Wow, that's kind of sickeningly...annoying.

WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
In Your Eyes (Peter Gabriel)
We totally will and I'm kind of weirded out that iTunes knew that.

WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
I'm Not Crying (Flight of the Conchords)
WOW. I SERIOUSLY HOPE SO. I AM NOT BEING SARCASTIC. SERIOUSLY I'M NOT. PLAY THIS WHEN I DIE, OKAY GUYS?

WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
Munich Air Disaster, 1958 (Morrissey)
Boy, there's already a lot of Moz in this entry, huh? Guess I know what one of today's tags is going to be!

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST FEAR?
White Wedding, Pt. 1 (Billy Idol)
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. YEP.

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
For We Are the King of the Boudoir (Magnetic Fields)
I'm...a self-promotingly awesome lover? It IS true that you'll see god when I kiss you, though. Smug.

WHAT DO YOU WANT RIGHT NOW?
Ballroom Blitz (Sweet)
I kinda do want that. I'm bored, and I think a blitz of any kind would be a welcome change from the monotony of the midweek blues.

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
The More You Ignore Me, The Closer I Get (Morrissey)
So true.

WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS?
Kim & Jesse (M83)

HEY.

Hey guys, GUESS WHO I SAW AT THE CAT & FIDDLE LAST NIGHT?

Typical, Typical Tuesday

So Michael Stipe just came out. He's gay! To tell you the truth, I'm somehow not surprised. I am, however, on the verge of palpitations regarding the rumors surrounding a maybe romantic relationship between him and Morrissey. Morrissey! Are you KIDDING ME.

If this post were a song, it would be called "(Catching On) Slowly"

I'm not going to lie; Morrissey is a touchy subject for me. Which is why I'm going to bring him and The Smiths up, of my own accord. Because it's time we got into some of that touchy shit, here at Fairly Alarmed.

When I turned 15, I discovered irony, as opposed to sarcasm. Suddenly, everything I saw was in the context of whether or not I could take it seriously, and that included the music I was listening to at the time. When I was 15, I was a rabid student of pop-punk, and suddenly, Blink-182 was soooo played out. And so was Greenday, soooo lame. And Good Charlotte, and Sum 41, and all their carbon copies. Today I mostly stand by my decision to abandon those bands, except Greenday is still great. And so are Blink-182 and Sum 41, but mostly because I want to go back and tell myself to not be so damn embarassed about everything all the time. Jesus. Anyway, when I was 15, I gave up music. I stopped listening to the radio, stopped listening to new CDs, stopped watching MTv. I read, mostly, or slept.

Then, when I was 17, I rediscovered sincerity. I decided that when people made fun of me for liking what I liked, or wearing whatever, it was okay, because they were the ones with the problem, not me. I opened myself up to the world, to strange, new joys and pains, and knew exactly what I was doing. It was around this time that I started to go back into my dusty old CD collection and see if anything there still applied. I found that some of it still did, and most of it was The Smiths (or Ryan Adams, but that's a self-flagellating post for another day). I threw myself into that group anew, and into its frontman, Morrissey, with greater vigor than I had the first time around, when I was too young to really understand the point of all that beseeching. I read a book called How Soon is Never?, by Marc Spitz, and in it I read this line: "I didn't want to have sex with Morrissey any more than Christians wanted to have sex with Jesus."
It's true; I don't want to have sex with Morrissey. But I would give up meat if he asked me to. I would even honor my father and my mother.

The vigor I talked about in that last sentence really can't be described with a word. Instead, imagine this scenario: I listen to Morrissey's lyrics so much that I begin to believe he is actually talking ABOUT ME. No seriously, listen to this, doesn't it make you think of that time I was in photography class with Brian, and we were in the dark room, and it was all weird in there? And I had this big crush on him and then - no? You're not listening hard enough.
He was inside my head.

So obviously I know that's not true, but he's still in my soul (a word that makes me cringe, but which I use here for lack of a better one to describe the seat of my non-physical being, where the most precious memories and secrets are kept), to a degree that is so profound that even I don't get how delicate I am about it until someone makes fun of it. So forgive me if you mock Morrissey all in good fun and I call you a shit-for-brains dickless chump. I'm just harkening back to 17, the age of sincerity, and protecting the sweet, most tender side of myself.



Found, courtesy of Merlin Mann, at Kung Fu Grippe.

Thank you, Sir.

A Triumphant Re-Return

I need your help deciding something.

Morrissey is coming back to LA for an epic 10 day run this month, a scant 3 months after his last show here. My question to you is this: should I buy tickets? Remember, I just dropped 135 spendies on him in June, but I do love me some Moz - and I'm pretty sure I love him enough to go see a show that I guess will be exactly the same as the last one I saw (I can't imagine that he has a lot of new material). But should I? This would at least be an opportunity to stare at some freaks and get another tour shirt. I say yes. You say...?

oh, my fuck.

So I'm sitting here at the Lyric (www.lyrictheatrela.com), minding my own business and reading the Onion (which we can get for the low-low price of free.99 here in California) when I read the following passage in a review of Tearing Down the Wall of Sound: The Rise and Fall of Phil Spector - which, could we think of a more obvious title? but anyway - when I read the following passage. Read it and tell me why I'm having an aenurysm. First with the right answer gets a prize*.

Spector's hatred of a pop world that had passed him by lies an almost pathological desire for love that, to paraphrase a singer strongly influenced by Spector's melodramatic "little symphonies for the kids," could easily have turned murderous.

I'm adding on to this entry because I don't have enough to say to justify starting a whole new one...

I went to a work meeting of Kyle's (with the theatre, not Whole Foods) today and it was fucking boring. The last year of my life has really hammered home that I've been very alone recently. All the people I hang out with are friends of Kyle's. They're nice and everything, but they're people that would take his side if we ever had a major argument or problem. Not to mention the fact that if I get close with any of them, I'd feel weird going out with one of them without Kyle because that would be like stealing a friend, wouldn't it? I mean...wouldn't it? Fucking interpersonal relationships. We should do away with them altogether.

*Not really, since I'm giving you the answer in my tabs section. Nice try though!

An Old Harpsichord That Nobody Plays

Last night I saw Morrissey in concert at the Hollywood Bowl.

Oh my fuck.

We took a bus from Koreatown down to Hollywood Boulevard and ate some very delicious sushi and teriyaki in a little hole in the wall restaurant. I've been missing sushi since Kyle and I moved away from Seattle in March. The old Japanese man working there had converted a bunch of slick WELCOME TO DISTURBIA print ads into WELCOME signs, which cracked me up...there was also a blue index card with writing that said, "postcard you Need? Free I get for You." I'm not a xenophobe or anything; poorly written English is something I find endearing in people that really can't be expected to know better, like people for whom it's a second language, and 3 year olds. I read a pretty unsatisfying Savage Love column in the LA Weekly when we were there. It was one of those ones where the person asks a really long question with four or five sub-questions, and Dan Savage replies, "Yes." Then we caught a second bus down to the Hollywood Bowl. We got lumped together with a bunch of other concert-goers and eventually had to cross a busy street with no crosswalk. So we all bolted across pretty heavy traffic as a pack, and during our jaunt, I said, "you can tell we're Moz fans, 'cause we all want to die." Which made Kyle, and absolutely nobody else in our group of about 10 people, laugh. Ah, the Moz Posse. Largely without a sense of humor. Unless the jokes involve how alone you are, and aren't really jokes, but pointed commentary on how inept we all - as humans - are at peaceful and truly loving socialization.

When we got to the Bowl, we climbed approximately forty billion stairs and found our seats finally. Kyle and I had nosebleed seats (made sense: we paid $50 a ticket). Our position was adventageous in that I didn't have to pay too much attention to his opening act, Kristeen Young. I originally thought she had a good voice and some interesting technique, but she used them so frequently and in every one of her songs that I eventually got bored and started fixating on the fact that her dress was apparently made of balloons and duct tape; I did ike her hair, though. Then I decided that she was actually systematically raping my aural passages for 45 minutes with her yowling and pinching notes like a gothic cat in heat. I was also annoyed by the fact that the video feed on two of the screens were about two bars off - Christine would sing two or three lines, and then the picture of her would mouth those same lines a few seconds later. Meanwhile she'd continued, so the image on the screen was one of ghostly ventriloquism or voice-throwing.

Then Kristeen Young wrapped it up and old movies began to play. Kyle enjoyed this part of the show the most, because old "whaddaya say, fellas? let's go make it with some dames!" stuff makes him laugh. I was on the edge of my seat because I knew it meant Morrissey was around and getting set up.

And then...

Out came the band, dressed in shirtsleeves, black vests and ties.
And out came Moz, In a white suit jacket, white pants, and black shirt looking exactly like he should. He shouted "HOORAY FOR HOLLYWOOD!" (with which I agreed completely), and opened with The Queen is Dead.

Given that this moment was one I'd been anticipating for about four years, it didn't surprise me that, though I knew the songs, I couldn't sing. I just sat there, slack-jawed and blinded by the lights, which were alsome.* The bad part about being so far away from the stage was that the crowd around us wasn't as stoked as I hoped they'd be, given that the only account I've ever read of a Morrissey show was of one that took place during the heyday of The Smiths and their melodrama (in How Soon is Never? by Marc Spitz). Which is why I was sitting at all.

Kyle made the point that Moz has made it to the third stage of his career - the performer's voice has given out, and he's a little older now, maybe he doesn't want to tour anymore, got a smug attitude, and a fantastic wardrobe. What does he do? He goes to Vegas and becomes a lounge singer. Morrissey may not have sounded absolutely pitch-perfect last night, but he was on his album. And I think that's a common problem for people. Of course you suck when you're sweating on stage and four million pairs of eyes are shining in the dark at you. Elton John, however, can go to Vegas and end it all where Celene Dion left off. Who are we kidding? It's where he should have started.

I can't put into words how good I felt about the show. So many people managed to jump on stage and rush Morrissey (about one per song), and I always clapped for them, even if it's kind of stupid. So wait, you paid like $300 to get to the front of the pit, and then jumped onstage so you could be sent to holding for the rest of the show and god knows what else after? Sounds like a...viable...plan...??

Anyway, I have to comment on the huge Hispanic population at the show. We all know that Morrissey is inexplicably HUGE in Mexico. I want answers. What is it about sad bastard music (as Barry from High Fidelity would put it) that speaks to young, urban Mexican youth? I have no idea where to start, but I did hear someone shout "MORRISSEY, YOU FUCKING MEXICAN, I LOVE YOU!" and I think that's awesome, so keep it up, Mexican young people. You're as entitled to cutting yourself in your room and screaming at your parents as much as the rest of us are, and it makes more sense somehow rather than us WASPs - or in my case, lasped Hindustanis posing as WASPs - doing it.

Morrissey ended with How Soon is Now? which is what finally brought me to my feet. Incredible. It's SO GOOD live. Fuck!

So, what else?

Oh, yes...the encore...

He played Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want, which was...there are no words. I was planning on doing an article on this show for LA's The Place, but I see now that it will be totally impossible to emotionally extricate myself from what happened last night. Also impossible will be the requirement to refer to myself as "we", as in "we at LA's the Place went to the Morrissey show last night and it was awesome", because I find that to be ridiculous.

back, back, back again

So I got my permanent crown on Tuesday and flew back into LA last night. I'm mad that I had to be gone so long that it actually feels weird to be around my boyfriend, but I'm SO FUCKING GLAD to be back amongst the free and living.

Immediately upon my waking up and turning on the TV this morning, I was accosted by yet more Paris Hilton Prison Drama. Apparently she left prison this morning and attempted to live under house arrest without the consent of a judge...because of "undisclosed medical reasons", which I'm pretty sure refers to Paris being a Skank. Um? That condition was "disclosed" long ago. Go back to prison and shut the fuck up for a month. Aw, close-up of Paris crying like a baby in the back of a Patrol Car, which elicits absolutely no sympathy from me. Sorry, You're 26. WELCOME TO CONSEQUENCES. I wish people would pull together a little fucking humility and/or dignity.

Update: The judge remanded Paris back to jail and she started screaming in the courtroom!

Here's even a quote from the news! “It’s not right!” shouted Hilton, who violated her probation in a reckless driving case. “Mom!” she cried out to her mother.

Bahahahaa. Not FIVE MINUTES after I typed that sentence about humility and or dignity, Paris breaks down crying and sobs for her mama.
Only in LA would this be continuously Breaking News, and these are my people. I love it.

I changed the channel just in time to see the late, great Mr. Rogers singing while he feeds his fish, "I like to take care of you, yes I do...yes I do." This show always brings tears to my eyes; he's so sweet. His mom made him those sweaters.

Oh, and then an ad for some Hostage Negotiator Drama starring Ron Livingston, as though we could accept him as anything other than that sweet and lovable goofball from Office Space and Sex and the City.

Dear Ron Livingston,

You are never going to be a smoldering sex symbol. You just don't have the jawline for it! Nor the speaking cadence. Sorry.

Love anyway,
-Priya

And now some shouting Republicans. I love TV. On to more important things...

Tonight I see Morrissey in concert. This means that 50% of my Mission To See The Smiths will have been completed (last year I saw Andy Rourke - the bassist - at one of his DJ gigs at the Mink in Houston)...I can't believe I'm using periods for these sentences. I should be using fourteen exclamation points, but I'm trying to play it cool. And failing. Completely. OMG, Morrissey. OMG.

I have to tell you something. Are you ready? Okay, here it comes.

MORRISSEY.

That is all.

A Post About Morrissey

kyle and I were talking about morrissey (this happens almost never, as there is very little about the moz that compells kyle to speak at all, let alone at length) and kyle said that "morrissey sounds like the last choirboy," and proceeded to sing a very morrissey-esque tune of his own devising, the lyrics to which went something like this:

I am the last choirboy
Everybody else left
I'm hanging out in the church
All alone.

And I have to admit, the whole thing made me fall in love with him ("him" in this case referring to kyle) all over again.

Sappy!

And in YET ANOTHER morrissey related conversational tangent...
Kyle and I were talking about the morrissey show I'm apparently covering for LA's The Place and he said "ugh, you're going to meet sooo many potential boyfriends there," as is his wont, and I told him that I wouldn't be interested at all in actually speaking to anyone there. Kyle said, "except morrissey." Which, duh. But also, no.

Anyway, he said that morrissey and I would be a perfect pair. I said that that was patently untrue, and he countered that we were practically the same person, which made me shudder, because moz is such a categorically miserable person and probably exhausting to be around (not that I'm not in favor of making the lives of others unbearably difficult), but also made me feel very pleased (paraphrasing marc spitz...morrissey : me :: jesus : christians). But then I had to ask: why do you say that? And here's what he said.
"Well, you're both incredible writers, you hate the world, and if it wasn't for my intervention, I'm pretty confident that you'd both be celibate."

Then he elaborated, "if you and I hadn't met in the weirdest way possible, you would be completely celibate. Because you're not socially awkward, you're romantically awkward. You would regard physical contact from a distance and then curl up with a book and a warm cup of tea."

So that comparison pleased me because I do like to give the impression that I'm a nonsexual being - I dunno, something about deep-seated insecurities spawned when I was, like, 9 and a distinct prude-y quality to my physical and emotional interactions with others which may or may not be the product of said insecurities - and also because it's pretty much true, and I heart that kyle's so intuitive.

For the five people out there that saw American Dreamz, I direct your attention to the scene where Mandy Moore's character regards Hugh Grant's character and says, "um, I'm not physically attracted to other people, but if you want me? I'm yours."