Author's Note: Yes, I'm crosspollinating both of my sites with this pic 'n' paragraphs because I need to harness the collective powers of the internet to ensure that at 7:30 Wednesday night, my ass is parked in a chair with an attached cup holder, getting ready to do my best Mancunian accent as I howl along with "Hand In Glove".
I’m approximately 49.5 hours away from being close enough to Morrissey to leave the venue covered in his sweat, silk threads and errant emotions but I’m starting to worry that it won’t happen. Of the seven shows set to open his “Years of Refusal” tour, he’s already cancelled six of them “due to illness” and the one that he did climb onstage for—Friday night in Myrtle Beach, SC—had to be cut short.
It was just posted on his website that he’s axed tonight’s gig in Asheville, North Cackalacky and I sincerely hope he uses tomorrow’s scheduled off day to start mainlining Emergen-C and echinacea because SO HELP ME, Stephen Patrick Morrissey, if you put an all-caps “CANCELLED” beside Wednesday night’s performance—the one that I’ve been yearning for since the sixteen year old version of me bought her first Smiths CD—SO HELP ME I WILL GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO CRY ABOUT.
Otherwise, I’ll see you in Durham. I’ll be the one in the front row, stage right, so please throw me your shirt.
P.S. If all of my virtual friends could hold hands and send healing thoughts to Morrissey on the backs of well-tailored unicorns, that would be awesome and I would love you until forever.