Steven Patrick Morrissey's LiveJournal Entries [lies|charming men|wasted days]
Steven Patrick Morrissey

[ truth | the more you ignore me, the closer i get ]
[ fiction | november spawned a monster ]
[ paradox | everyday is like sunday ]

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there is nothing left to say [21 Mar 2005|09:03pm]
[ mood | betrayed ]

Replace me at your own peril, dears. I'll be like the Mummy in those dreadful movies with Brendan Frasier (who I'll have to admit did his best work in Encino Man and has gone completely downhill since - you can't fake the Frasier/Shore magic). What was I saying?

Oh dear I've gotten sidetracked again.

Ah yes. Haunting. There will be a reckoning. I will return to haunt, hate, jibe, jingle, cajole, cuddle, cunnilingus any of you who thinks of subverting and perverting my true self with one of those god awful replicants.

True, I should learn to let go (and let god) but just because I haven't been particularly verbose lately doesn't mean I haven't been waiting, and watching.

Peace outs and big ups to all those I've loved and lost. My life and stories simply wouldn't have been as interesting without you. I've written enough arse-licking posts praising you, you know who you are.

And if I've learned nothing else in life, it's that mystery sells records.

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Vive La Revolucion! [22 Jul 2004|02:25pm]
[ mood | revolutionary! ]

My pretties, I apologize once again for not being more available to you, but this time I have a good excuse- I'VE BEEN KIDNAPPED! sort of

I'm writing this missive from a bunker somewhere in Sweden. I'm not quite sure what's happened, but apparently I've been named the figurehead of a Nordic Revolutionary cell. I don't even really know what they stand for, but I AM NOW THEIR GOD!

I suppose that's what I get for making a machine gun the primary component of the design on my new CD. The poor darlings may have seen me as some sort of militaristic messiah! It happened after one of the Manchester shows. I was standing outside with Boz, waiting for the MOVE festival to begin. He was blathering on and on about music and I was trying to scope the crowd for people I wanted to take home with me later (to TALK of course, I'm celibate as hell). Boz was looking sort of annoyed when he realized I was ignoring him, and so he didn't notice an aryan youth with a trumpet approaching from behind.

*Thunk! Thunk!* We both were clocked upside our heads and when I woke up Boz was nowhere nearby. I found myself tied to a chair and looking at what I first mistakenly assumed were the members of The Cardigans all blonde and well-dressed and high-cheek boned were they. They slowly came to reveal themselves to be...well...I'm still not entirely sure darlings, I don't speak their language at all. I'm getting the impression that they are fighting for...something. And they want me to figurehead their operation.

How do I know? Well, it could be the armed guard or the speeches they hand me which I am still unable to read. They've put me up in front of crowds that don't really appear to be music fans but are waving flags with my face on them. I attempted to sing, thinking perhaps it was an impromptu concert arranged by one of those irritating MTV shows and nearly got myself shot. I learned rather quickly to fake some Swiss-German words. They keep handing me speeches. ps. if anyone could translate for me I would be most appreciative kthx

In the short time I've known them, I've come to love (well at least tolerate) my captors. They've given me this great jacket that matches the colours of the sunset (I think it was in an attempt to hypnotize would-be followers). And the technology! They have these balloon bombs that make me happy to be (at least temporarily) on their side.

But something is rotten in the state of Denmark. I miss my sweet sweet love Deano and long to be back in his arms.

Please send help immediately. Or perhaps just a very attractive drummer to tide me over until the end of the uprising.

Yours until (whatever it is) falls,

~Morrissey!

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Having a Meltdown [18 Jun 2004|03:35pm]
[ mood | le sigh ]

Well there's this rumour going around that I've become some sort of "Inspiration". I'm not sure I believe it, but apparently I've fooled at least one panel of judges and they've come to decide that I deserve an award because of it. Anyway, the Silver Clef awards honoured me for my "amazing contribution to music and for being an inspiration to others". BAHAHAHAHA.

The mind boggles. The very idea that my music matters to anyone but my own fat head is enough to make me believe in the words of the Immortal Will Farrell that "everyone has taken crazy pills". Well I managed not to vomit out of the sheer absurdity of the thing, which is a great thing considering that The New York Dolls were presenting my award (I think I've become an unofficial member of the group by now).

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Well there's this rumour going around that I've become some sort of "Inspiration". I'm not sure I believe it, but apparently I've fooled at least one panel of judges and they've come to decide that I deserve an award because of it. Anyway, the Silver Clef awards honoured me for my "amazing contribution to music and for being an inspiration to others". BAHAHAHAHA.

The mind boggles. The very idea that my music matters to anyone but my own fat head is enough to make me believe in the words of the Immortal Will Farrell that "everyone <i>has</i> taken crazy pills". Well I managed not to vomit out of the sheer absurdity of the thing, which is a great thing considering that The New York Dolls were presenting my award (I think I've become an unofficial member of the group by now). <b><a [lj2] href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/will_young/">William</a></b>, it was really nothing, but you should have at least tried to arrive to receive your own award. I shouldn't have had to go through the event alone.

My Meltdown is in <a href="http://www.rfh.org.uk/meltdown/" target="_blank">full swing</a>. People have been expecting it for years, but this one has by far been one of the greatest the world has ever seen. If I do say so myself. The Dolls were brilliant. I've spent enough time with them recently that I think perhaps I've regressed a little. <b><a [lj2] href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/nick_valensi/">Nick Stroke</a></b> can no doubt attest to this, as can that strange lass who claims to be <b><a [lj2] href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/jonnyleemiller/">MY JONNY</a></b>'s <b><a [lj2] href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/ruth_millar/">girlfriend</a></b>. Is she daft?

Speaking of Jonny, in between sessions of watching little girls <a href="http://www.barnettimes.co.uk/news/localnews/display.var.500471.0.girls_take_to_the_airwaves_for_morrissey.php" target="_blank">piddle about on the radio</a> I've decided that the lifelike Madame Tussaud wax replica of himself that he gave to me for my birthday needed a companion. I call her <a href="http://www.artmakers.com/anysaver/cnyg/dolls/anna.jpg" target="_blank">Anna</a>, and as you may be able to tell from the photo, she's a jaunty wench full of vim and vigor. I put them in various poses and make them take lover's walks and speak about poetry and yes I may be going barmy from all the work I've done lately. I wish NME would pull it's nose out of my arse and leave me alone.

Oh, and lastly. Yes, I did say that I wished George W. had died instead of Ronald Reagan, but I wasn't speaking of the current US President. Completely misquoted. I was referring to this <a href="http://users.ox.ac.uk/~shugdev/images/seasons/shrubbery.gif" target="_blank">shrubbery</a> outside my home that I've taken to calling by that name. The bloody thing blocks my view and looks horrid and I keep trying to get it removed but it keeps growing back. Ah, the press and their fanciful spinnings of truth. I suppose now I'll be accused of being a garden facist.

I apologize for not getting back to those who have commented. I have been busy. <a href="http://www.finemanfilms.com/tal/images/nancysinatra1.jpg" target="_blank">Nancy Sinatra</a> on Sunday. I do believe I've died and been reincarnated as a magical faerie Princess.
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Another year older and still alive kind of [02 Jun 2004|10:47pm]
[ mood | recumbent ]

Forgive me, darlings.

Sorry about the scare. The rumours of my demise were only partially true. I know Craig Kilborn has been weeping non-stop since I failed to appear on his show. I sent him a bottle of the finest wines as well as a handkerchief soaked in my feverish sweat as an apology. I hope they made their way to him properly.

Here's hoping they don't end up on ebay.

So yes. I've been ill, and it was due in whole to the raging kegger I threw in my own honour. I know how to party hearty darlings, especially when the party is all about me and contains nothing but the finest riff-raff.

The festivities began, as usual, with me hiding in my room crying while everyone arrived. My maid, Maria Consuela Conchita Esteban-Morrissey answered the door with her usual enthusiastic "HOLA!" and took my place as host while I fixed my mascara. Yes, I adult adopted her because of greencard issues, but mostly because her last name is "Esteban" and that means "Steven" en Espanol. I can't help liking myself.

The guests began to arrive, and like a frightened kitten, I slowly crept down the stairs to greet them.

It helped that two of the first to make an appearance were

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Forgive me, darlings.

Sorry about the scare. The rumours of my demise were only partially true. I know <a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/mrkilborn">Craig Kilborn</a> has been weeping non-stop since I failed to appear on his show. I sent him a bottle of the finest wines as well as a handkerchief soaked in my feverish sweat as an apology. I hope they made their way to him properly.

Here's hoping they don't end up on ebay.

So yes. I've been ill, and it was due in whole to the raging kegger I threw in my own honour. I know how to party hearty darlings, especially when the party is all about me and contains nothing but the finest riff-raff.

The festivities began, as usual, with me hiding in my room crying while everyone arrived. My maid, <a href="http://www.bikebrats.com/image8/vinales/maid.jpg">Maria Consuela Conchita Esteban-Morrissey</a> answered the door with her usual enthusiastic "HOLA!" and took my place as host while I fixed my mascara. Yes, I adult adopted her because of greencard issues, but mostly because her last name is "Esteban" and that means "Steven" en Espanol. I can't help liking myself.

The guests began to arrive, and like a frightened kitten, I slowly crept down the stairs to greet them.

It helped that two of the first to make an appearance were <b><a [lj2] href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/jonnyleemiller/">Jonny</a></b> and <b><a [lj2] href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/j_law/">Judy</a></b>. They were at it again. But it was my party, and I would cry if I wanted to. They were covered in flour and crushed velvet attire. They brought <a href="http://img78.photobucket.com/albums/v250/_morrissey_/cakey.jpg">a cake</a>. The icing was questionable, but creamy and delicious. Jonny also brought me a wax doll from Madame Tussaud's. Imagine my surprise when I realized I spent the latter half of the evening hitting on it rather than the real mccoy. At least it was anatomically correct.

<a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/dave_rowntree">Dave Rowntree</a> not only brought me a loofah, but he agreed to school me on the skins. We began my apprenticeship <a href="http://www.morrisseymusic.com/images/gallery/photos/35.jpg">that night</a>. He told me that I was a natural on the gong.

<b><a [lj2] href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/g_gershon/">My fiance'</a></b> took me to the boxing ring in back of my house, brought over from London (remember that kiddies?) and we went a few rounds. This too may have led to my near demise. She's a firecracker, and not just in the sack.

<b><a [lj2] href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/martin_gore/">Martin</a></b>, god bless his soul, had a bit of a brain fart and brought me my old dear friend Johnny Marr (tied up in the back of his vehicle). Martin, baby, I only wanted the autograph, though it's the thought that counts. For a few hours there, my party was a bad John Hughes movie, until we decided to fill Johnny with some IV drugs and deposit him on a streetcorner near Salford Lad's club.

I appreciate the chartruese shoes <b><a [lj2] href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/kate__winslet/">Kate</a></b>, and the soup fit for a king, <b><a [lj2] href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/kelly_macdonald/">Kels</a></b> but the piece de resistance was <b><a [lj2] href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/ewan_mcgregor/">A certain travelling hobo</a></b> showing up live via satellite (previously recorded) wearing a kilt and a smile. He waggled some keys (among other things) at me and promised that I would have my own driving lessons and my own bike to learn on when he returns from Mars or wherever the bloody hell he is this week.

If you do get injured, Ewan, please make sure it's nowhere that counts. We like your pieces where they are.

<b><a [lj2] href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/damien_hirst/">Damien</a></b> and <b><a [lj2] href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/joeylaurenadams/">Joey</a></b> teamed up and got me...something. But I won't go into that. I'm truly sorry to hear about your loss.

Once everyone was properly <strike>drugged</strike> drunk, I took them to the roof and <b><a [lj2] href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/file_under/">Michael</a></b> and I sang "Somewhere Out There" which brought a <strike>teat</strike> tear to Jude and Jonny's eyes for some reason. I think I saw them mouthing the word "Ewan".

When <b><a [lj2] href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/lucy__liu/">Lucy</a></b> scaled the wall and joined us, I knew the party was a smashing success. She brought "neutrality", which I will attempt to utilize as soon as possible. Others were there as well and if I missed anyone, sod off.

It took me days to recover. I'm still trying. I have a show in Belfast on Friday but I feel that bombs are the least thing I have to be worried about.

Anyway, thank you all for coming.

<h2><MARQUEE SCROLLAMOUNT=10><b>BUY "YOU ARE THE QUARRY" OUT IN SHOPPES NOW IT'S MY BEST SELLING ALBUM EVER AND I LOVE MONEY!!!</h2></b></marquee>
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Father Time, F-U-C-K-O-Double F [22 May 2004|04:56pm]
[ mood | old ]

A thank you to everyone who have given me birthday greetings.

I've got an appointment with Michael Jackson's surgeon tomorrow. So tonight, I'm going to party my nose off.

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Things to get for the Mozz who has everything [19 May 2004|04:07pm]
[ mood | mischievous ]

London.

The taping of the

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London.

The taping of the <b><a [lj2] href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/mrkilborn/">Kilborn</a></b> Show went excellently, if I do say so myself. As always, Craig was a gentleman and a scholar, and I appreciate how seriously he <strike>worships at my altar</strike> takes my music. I bid Los Angeles adieu and boarded the plane at the scheduled hour, happy to be across the pond for the first time in a long while.

Happy Birthday <b><a [lj2] href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/nat_appleton/">Natalie</a></b>. A day late and a dollar short, but it could be worse. I'll empty a pint to you anyway. Congratulations on the return of <a href="http://www.livejournal.com/community/welcome_wagon/1269606.html" target="_blank">your sister</a> after a brief absence.

We arrived late Saturday, and with nothing major scheduled for a few days, the band and I decided to make a day of it in Hyde Park. It wasn't my idea. While I love the outdoors, the idea of playing football or "frisbee" is rather unappealing. Of course, it helped that <a href="http://www.morrisseymusic.com/images/gallery/photos/25.jpg" target="_blank">Deano</a> made the suggestion to get athletic. I even put on a <a href="http://www.morrisseymusic.com/images/gallery/photos/26.jpg" target="_blank">Track and Field jersey</a> in an effort to impress on him that I was the sporting kind. In reality, I merely <a href="http://www.morrisseymusic.com/images/gallery/photos/27.jpg" target="_blank">sat by the fountain and sang to myself</a>. After a while, the boys decided they wanted to fuck off and go get a pint. I think they were becoming <a href="http://www.morrisseymusic.com/images/gallery/photos/22.jpg" target="_blank">bored</a> with the <a href="http://www.morrisseymusic.com/images/gallery/photos/24.jpg" target="_blank">witticisms I was spouting every so often</a>. My lovely Alain even <a href="http://www.morrisseymusic.com/images/gallery/photos/23.jpg" target="_blank">ran away</a>. Poor Dear.

Never let it be said that I have an easy time relating to the younger generation.

Manchester, as well as the anniversary of my birth in three days. I realize this doesn't give those that wish to attend a lot of time for shopping, but all I can do is provide the list, and hope for the best.

In order of importance. I would like to receive the following:

1. An autographed picture of Johnny Marr with his signature and the words <i>"Morrissey was right."</i> in his handwriting.

2. Each and every one of you to buy my new album for yourselves.

3. That fat bastard Robert Smith jumping out of a birthday cake and singing one of my songs.

4. Rogaine

5. Something Swiss

6. <strike>Boxing lessons (the instructor is to be very attractive)</strike> This has been claimed.

7. A Real Doll modelled after <b><a [lj2] href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/jonnyleemiller/">Jonny Lee Miller</a></b>.

8. <strike>Singing lessons (the instructor is to be very attractive)</strike> Thank you, Michael.

9. A time machine with which I can go back and seduce Steve McQueen, David Bowie, and possibly Alex James.

10. Shoes picked out by Kate Winslet (I'm making this easy on you, Kate)

11. <strike>Driving Lessons (the instructor is to be very attractive)</strike> I shall learn to drive both a motorcycle and a car from two very attractive instructors.

12. Your mother

13. <strike>Gina Gershon's hand in marriage. I'd prefer it still attached to the body, but I'm not picky.</strike> Sorted. Don't get this one, it's got.

14. <strike>A Loofah from Dave Rowntree (A brilliant suggestion from Jonny).</strike> Handled. Swiss even.

15. Kelly's famous potato soup. How could this have slipped my mind?

That's all I can think of for now. Perhaps I'll add more later as they come to me. Check back often!

I'm now a part of both the PEPSI SMASH! tour and LOLLAPALOOZA! and I think perhaps I've GONE CORPORATE!

EDIT: Oh yes. And I'm an "older person" according to the <a href="http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=must_be_rawr">Must Be Rawr</a> awards. And also according to the latest polls, I'm not even the most "rawr" one of them all. Ay, me.
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You can never go home again [13 May 2004|12:01pm]
[ mood | thoughtful ]

Ready for another pointless musing?

I prepare, once again, to return to the place of my birth for a concert commemerating the day I sprung fully grown like Pallas Athena, from between my mother's legs. I can imagine the crowd now, twirling and screaming itself into a fever pitch. What a headache. I love them all, but for once, I wish they could enjoy the music without attempting to shout my own lyrics back at me until I'm quite deaf.

Which brings me to a dream I recently had.

I'm alone in a dark room, strapped to a stone slab. I'm completely naked except for some jewerly and the shoes on my feet. Suddenly, a spot illuminates one corner of the room. There is a tall judge's bench, and it appears that some sort of tribunal is presiding. The faces are shadowed, but there's a feeling of familiarity to the speakers. Their voices strike a chord in me, but at the time, I can't place them.

"Steven Morrissey. Your judgement is at hand."

Keep in mind that for a dream this is remarkably vivid. For a moment, I think that perhaps I've died in my sleep and that all my rhetoric about there being no afterlife was incredibly, tragically wrong.

"Oh shit." I think to myself. "I'm in for it now."

You may call your first witnessCollapse )

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Full Circle [06 May 2004|11:41am]
[ mood | accomplished ]

The curtain rises:

A man I once, and still do, idolize steps forth into the spotlight and warms the crowd for me. Me! It's hard not to flash back to an earlier time. I picture myself spread out on my bed, face up and with my head leaning over the edge, watching the needle or the record playing hum it's way along the wax grooves, bringing the song to life. Of course, I sang along. I knew all the words by heart.

I longed to be in New York, and now, here I am, still mouthing the words stage right, watching from the darkness, a captive audience. I'm 17 again, minus the spots. I grin widely and I nearly send a nearby stagehand into cardiac arrest. It's not a sight anyone expects from me. I should be preparing myself for my own performance, but I can't tear myself away.

The set closes: David steps my way despite the cheering of the crowd. He claps me on the shoulder and grins. We're friends and it's as if all my dreams have suddenly come true. I maintain my composure and congratulate him on an excellent performance.

And now, darlings, it's my turn: I'm pleased with how the show goes. The audience is incredibly responsive...putty in my hands. I give them a few extra twirls of flair with the microphone cord for good measure. I look to the side of the stage at one point and spot

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<i>The curtain rises:</i>

<a href="http://www.newyorkmetro.com/nymetro/arts/music/features/music2002/n_7736/">A man I once, and still do, idolize</a> steps forth into the spotlight and warms the crowd for me. Me! It's hard not to flash back to an earlier time. I picture myself spread out on my bed, face up and with my head leaning over the edge, watching the needle or the record playing hum it's way along the wax grooves, bringing the song to life. Of course, I sang along. I knew all the words by heart.

I longed to be in New York, and now, here I am, still mouthing the words stage right, watching from the darkness, a captive audience. I'm 17 again, minus the spots. I grin widely and I nearly send a nearby stagehand into cardiac arrest. It's not a sight anyone expects from me. I should be preparing myself for my own performance, but I can't tear myself away.

<i>The set closes:</i> David steps my way despite the cheering of the crowd. He claps me on the shoulder and grins. We're <i>friends</i> and it's as if all my dreams have suddenly come true. I maintain my composure and congratulate him on an excellent performance.

And now, darlings, <i>it's my turn</i>: I'm pleased with how the show goes. The audience is incredibly responsive...putty in my hands. I give them a few extra twirls of flair with the microphone cord for good measure. I look to the side of the stage at one point and spot <b><a [lj2] href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/file_under/">Michael</a></b>, and his presence brings another smile to my face. Instantly, I'm daydreaming again, which is a terrible thing to happen while one is performing.

I'm thinking of the time that he took me out to dinner with <b><a [lj2] href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/love_courtney/">Ms. Love</a></b> and convinced me to release some new material. And again, I look at where I am now, having just done so, and I think that everything in recent history appears to have led up to this moment. Is this the climax of my life?

<i>The show ends</i> and I toss a flower that I had stowed in the front of my pants (always good to have that area smelling fresh) into the crowd. I find out later that <a href="http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=4166478025&category=1467&sspagename=STRK%3AMESSE%3AIT&rd=1">SOME TOSSER DECIDES TO SELL IT</a>. Prat.

After the show, I spend some time with Michael and the two of us reconnect in a rare and wonderful way. I realize how kindred a soul he is, different from me but in many ways complimentary. I'm hoping we'll spend time with each other again soon.

Today, I'm feeling the urge to spend some money. <b><a [lj2] href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/kate__winslet/">Kate</a></b> is overdue to buy me new shoes, and I think it's time I collect. I'm also going to attempt to guilt her into attending tonight's performance, along with <b><a [lj2] href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/mariah_c/">Mariah</a></b> and anyone else in the New York City area.

In a week I'll get to see some people who I've missed terribly.
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I'm my own best friend [29 Apr 2004|01:26pm]
[ mood | self-centered ]

I know this update is late, but when it comes to jumping on the bandwagon I'm usually bringing up the rear. So to speak.

Narcissism is a way of life for me. I find me fascinating. I can always count on me when the chips are down. There is nobody's company I prefer over my own. I've said these things many times in interviews and the press gobbles it up. Why? Is it because the public hungers for the image of me as a solitary creature? Are they trying to determine if I've gone around the bend? Desperate, Lonely, and shy? Unable to relate? The Howard Hughes of the Music World, only a few years away from locking myself away from the world and receiving food and the latest issue of "Vice" magazine through a slot in my door?

I'm really not much of a people person. I really never have been. Other people will let you down when you least expect it. They will become boring. They will move on without so much as a goodbye. They will expect more than you're willing or capable of giving.

Granted, there are a few who catch me with my guard down, and often it scares me. This is why I disappear. I'm dreadfully sorry, but it's much easier to excuse myself quietly from the figurative dinner table than to make a big production, clanking my silverware to the glass and requesting that everyone kiss me goodbye. People have come to expect this from me, and who am I to disappoint? Very few of them will follow me out the door. Even fewer have the power to get me to turn around and come back for the slice of pie. Thanks to Jonny, Kelly, Kate, Steve, you. Yes, I'll have another slice.

This metaphor is out of hand. I think perhaps I'm getting hungry.

Where I've been and where I'm going is a complicated tale. Once I was a little lad in Manchester dreaming of the songs and matinee idols of America. Now I'm an older, wiser, man, living in America and writing songs about Manchester. I've completed an album after 7 years, which will be released next month. I have begun performing live again, which I had done more recently than 7 years, but the newer material will show a different side than people will expect of me.

I know every artist says that every time they release an album, but that doesn't make it any less true.

I've accomplished things far too numerous to mention here. Lately, I'd say the most interesting things I've accomplished have been reuniting my idols, The New York Dolls, for the Meltdown Festival in June. I've also gotten fab_boy's father Loudon and Nancy "Boots" Sinatra. I'm terribly excited. Another fun fact: I'm apparently a known terrorist. An incident I neglected to mention in the last post, but no less noteworthy, was that I was detained by the United States government when trying to arrive home to Los Angeles the other day. It seems I serve a passing resemblance (in name) to a noted bad guy. The "homeland security" department denies there is any link between this incident and my criticism of their goverment, but I have my doubts. If they knew what was good for them, they probably wouldn't have let me go. My music is worth more terror than they've seen in recent years.

I leave for New York to start the tour in two days, and I'll be there for almost a week and then I return to the UK. I can barely contain myself. But that doesn't mean I won't try.

EDIT: I should mention that I'm playing at THE APOLLO in New York. Who says I don't have street cred?

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Just when I thought I was out...they pull me back in [27 Apr 2004|06:24pm]
[ mood | awake ]

There's nothing quite like a decent rest.

And unfortunately lately I've had nothing like a decent rest. Or fortunately, as seen through the eyes of both my accountant and my wallet. It may look as if I've been asleep at the wheel, lovelies, but the truth is that the opposite is quite true. I simply haven't had the time to spend keeping in contact or keep up on my writings. Releasing an album after many years of living as an idle bastard will do that.

Sad to think that my story ended with that last entry. Pitiful. But I suppose that any story I ever told about my life might end with a whimper instead of a bang.

But yes. I'm here again, sending letters from the great beyond. Los Angeles.

You may throw all the proper praise and blame toward a certain Jonny Lee Miller, who somehow tracked down my unlisted number and pretended to be an interviewer from Mojo Magazine.

Jonny darling, the heavy breathing gave it away. I'll never forget the way you sound when drunk and breathing heavily in my ear. These sort of things one remembers. You couldn't fool me. Cheers for trying. His barely understandable brogue did bring me back to the good times we've had. So I'm here to reminisce.

Your lives since I've been gone in 30 words or less. Go.

Edit: I know it looks suspicious, but no I didn't come back at the behest of Thom Yorke, the wonky-eyed limey that he is.

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Step away for a few weeks and the world goes mad... [03 Sep 2003|09:28pm]
[ mood | crazy ]

What is wrong with you people?

Friendships come and go. LiveJournals too. Apparently so do the minds of some of my best mates.

I'm so behind and I'll likely never catch up, so I'm going to be a selfish bastard and expect some form of reader's digest version from those of you in the know. Leave in the Juicy bits.


Mini-Damon

Jonny and I were shocked to learn that Damon had a wee Canadian brother. He's in a band and he's friends with Avril. It must run in the family.


Mini-Damon looking like Robbie Williams

That was enough for me to want to update on it's own.

Jonny's hand on my leg has become quite insistent. The keg is calling. Ciao darlings.

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Take that, Liam! [10 Jul 2003|02:40pm]
[ mood | accomplished ]

I know my husband appears to have disappeared, and it's undoubtedly because I've been voted Manchester's Greatest Frontman. He's a terrible loser.

To those of you who voted, the cheque is in the post and on it's way.

I find it terribly amusing that Mick Hucknall was even in the running. I'm surprised Bernard, either of the Ians, and Richard didn't do better. Mark E. Should have won. Perhaps next time "Ever" rolls around.

Oh, and did I fail to mention I signed a record deal during my hiatus? I always tend to leave the little details out. I'll begin recording in October if all goes well, and my life as a roustabout idle riche will be no more. They'll make me work. I still want to take Mariah with me in the studio.

It's my intent to show up at Jonny Lee and Leigh Lee Miller's soiree this eve. If for some reason I'm not seen, know I'm there in spirit. I have to wallow in some more miserablism and wit in order to finish writing the last few songs for the album.

It must be the season for it...

Kelly and Tim: !
Kate and Jamie: ?
Jonny and Leigh: $

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Who I am, Who are you? [07 Jul 2003|12:59pm]
[ mood | embarrassed ]

Let me let you in on a little secret...

I'm not a very good friend. I never have been. By nature, people (and often places) irritate me. I have trouble staying in one place for too long.

I have trouble maintaining anything.

Some of my closest friends from childhood and I are no longer speaking. When asked why? I'm simply unable to provide any sort of real answer. I just don't have anything further to say to them, and something about seeing them causes me discomfort.

I attribute my latest disappearance in a similar vein to how I felt when 'Viva Hate' went number one. Exposed. I needed air.

Forgive me?

Or not, I suppose. I've gotten rather used to sitting boarded up in my house alone.

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To every thing, there is a season [13 May 2003|05:09pm]
[ mood | drained ]

A time to be *born*, A time to *die*
My birthday looms. I won't give my age here in the expectation that it will incriminate me, but I'm sure you smart lads and lassies can discover that for yourself if you look hard enough. It's the 22nd. A mere week away.

Let me put it simply. I want a bash. I want a bacchanal. I want strippers. Even perhaps some that I don't know. I want alcohol and drugs. I want to remember youth before the last bit of it evaporates like the color in my hair. I want to look at my house the following day, and I want it to be unrecognizable.

Invites to follow. I realize that a week is very short notice, but I'm hoping that some of my American friends (as well as the ones that are just pretending) to fly to London for the evening. I'll even pay. Despite the press I've been getting lately, I'm not a cheapskate.

A time to *plant*, A time to *reap*
It seem as if some people are only capable of planting seeds of destruction. How long before the actions they take for their own entertainment end up spoiling the garden for all of us? Perhaps it's just the enlightenment that comes with another year alive, but I'm frightening myself. I'm using vegetation metaphors. Or is it similes? I never can get that straight.

A time to *kill*, A time to *heal*
I love *asterisks*. I also love punctuation. I love proper use of capital letters. I love giving hell to those that are worthy, and defending those that deserve it. Some people I've met here have become such a characterization of themselves I don't find them the least bit interesting. If I wanted to argue over font color, or proper use of emoticons, in general receive nastiness for no apparently reason I'd be spending my time in the many 14 and under chatrooms sponsered by AOL (And no 'SPM1959hot9in' isn't me, it's just a rumor). I had hoped for a higher standard from those of us considered celebrities. Particularly inspirational and spicy Latina singers and Hobbits. I don't expect anything from aging monkey-faced queens. I hate being disappointed.

A time to *laugh*, A time to *weep*
Now, for the real reasons I come here and waste my precious time. These people entertain me, touch me, touch me, and entertain me. I felt it was the perfect time for a little touchy-feely, especially after taking a brief break, and reconsidering the worth of me showing up again. And especially given the state of the world, and the collective emotional well-being of those I care about. Consider these invites, as well. A word of warning. There's a lot of love inside that link.

In a particular orderCollapse )

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Please log in. [05 May 2003|06:00pm]
[ mood | annoyed ]

You like it when I give orders, don't you?

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Unloveable? [01 May 2003|12:43pm]
[ mood | ecstatic ]

...Perhaps not.

Someone intends to try and love me. He told me so.

Following that natural high I fled directly into the arms of my loving fiance´ (HO!) and he provided me with a chemical one. But I'm getting ahead of myself. This was much after a long and dreary flight into one of the dreariest places I've ever seen, and that's saying a lot, as I grew up in Manchester.

My other loving fiancees undoubtedly expected both of us to arrive in quite a state and came prepared with cups of coffee and stern looks to sober us up and prevent us from singing any more pub songs. By the time the caffeine kicked in, I realized I had my arm around Liam. I hope it isn't infected.

So there we were, wondering what the bloody hell we were doing in Utah.

We did what any group of self-respecting celebrities would do in this instance. We grabbed a bite to eat, ingested some substances which are...shall we say...outside the normal scope of the law, and went to a large amusement park.

One of the best things about our time there was that there was that we had a sort of anonymity there that is difficult to achieve elsewhere in the country. The only person who had very much to worry about was Kate, and she wore large sunglasses. Of course, most of the park, and probably most of Salt Lake has probably never heard my music, or Liam's, and Kelly's films are probably a bit over their heads as well. It was lovely.

After night fell, and we all had our fill of all the glee the park had to offer, we headed back to our hotel rooms to get in touch with our emotions further. We attempted playing cards, but that fell through, and so instead we told each other a bit about our histories. I learned almost more than I wanted to know, and probably remember only half of it.

And now, the come down. Everyone's leaving me. I had been planning on staying for a couple days longer, but I'll be damned if I'm going to stay in this city a moment after my companions have gone (and I probably would be damned as well). I've made some adjustments to my travel plans, and I'm going to make a stopover in Los Angeles to check in on my other home and see some wonderful friends before I return sometime this weekend.

I'm looking forward to the visit. But not nearly as much as I'm looking forward to my return.

Edit: How could I forget the other jouyous occasion that occurred recently? Apparently I've been reunited with my lost lost son jordan_i_pundik. He has a good combination of my looks, and that of Quentin Tarantino. I wonder if Quentin even remembers that night we spent together, in the not so distant past. He'd no doubt be so proud of our dear child.

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runny noses, Liam proposes, Steven composes, script presupposes [19 Apr 2003|04:44pm]
[ mood | creative ]

There's nothing more telling about your feelings for someone than seeing that person at their worst, and still wanting to have them near you as much as possible.

I think I surprised myself, recently. I'm usually quite private when I get ill. Perhaps it's the celebrity lifestyle, or perhaps it's just my own vanity rearing it's prettily coifed head, but when I feel sick, I want to lock myself away from the world and not come out again until I'm breathing clearly. With him, I didn't even think about it. Medusa showed her face and we both survived the ordeal. When he caught the cold from me afterward (no surprise really), it didn't even occur to me how normally squeamish I am usually in those circumstances. We take care of each other in every way possible.

I've been told I'm leaving for Utah soon to get married. You might think, why Utah? Or, you might not care at all. If you're in the former group, you need to consider the needs of my fiances'. If you're in the latter, seek counseling you cold, hard, bastard. I'd like to spend a bit more time in London before venturing overseas yet again. New York, Los Angeles, Salt Lake City. Nothing but the finest for this world traveller.

I was given a spot of good news about a good friend last week. While I feel terrible that there are hurt feelings, I'm sure eventually those involved while understand what's happened is for the best and move on. One perhaps could seek comfort in my arms for a time, the other could seek shock therapy.

Speaking of news, I have a bit of work-related info. There will be a CD with my name on it in stores soon.

It's not my own material, but still. It was put together by the people responsible for the 'Back To Mine' series. Excellent stuff, and I highly recommend it. Compiling my tracklist brought me back to times as a idealistic caustic youth in Manchester, trying on different shades of lipstick swiped from mum for my mirror-dancing sessions, while the record player skipped merrily along in the background.

Trash, pick it up, take them lights away
Trash, go pick it up, don't take my knife away
Trash, go pick it up, the doctor take them all away
And please don't you ask me if I love you
Cause I don't know if I do
I want to wipe it out here with you
And take a lover's sleep with you
I'm gonna talk alone with you
I'm gonna talk and be with you
But I just don't know if I do
I just don't know if I do



The record companies are still playing hard to get unfortunately, so my own material may still be some time in coming, if at all. At least Boz and Johnny his band are touring. I wish them well. He hasn't called in ages.

My account expires next week. I told myself that I would try this journal situation and determine if I thought it was worthwhile. I think it is.

Oh, and in order to keep myself busy (socializing is only so fulfilling), kate__winsletKate and I are working on a screenplayCollapse )

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At last (alas?) another update [10 Apr 2003|07:39pm]
[ mood | ecstatic ]

The last one didn't count. It was a part of a huge cosmic joke.

I'm airbourne and in transit to the city so nice they named it twice.

New York, you ninny.

I find it amazing that while the flight itself will take much longer, only about three hours out of the day will have passed (time zones are truly fascinating, are they not? ) and I'm choosing to update and answer some electronic mail rather than work on anything productive. I'm falling in love with the new me all over again, dears. The new album is on the back burner in lieu of my social life. It wasn't very good anyway.

It's become passe' to post about your week, or your coming week. Just ask my dear friend Gina. Of course, if you're not her friend already, you won't be able to see what I'm talking about, so it's a moot point. But really, who isn't her friend these days? She deserves it.

Where was I? Digressed into a Gershon-a-thon, again, I'm afraid. Ah, yes...

It's become passe' to post about past, current, or coming events. I hate being passe', declasse', bourgeois, or any other terrible yet musical sounding French word. I thought perhaps I could pass my travel plans off as an agenda, and then at least I would look like I was part of a bohemian revolution...

Agenda items: NYC

I will arrive in New York City with Damien today 10 April 2003, around 10ish. I will promptly phone the flat of one ethanhawke. We will make small talk. He will tell me how to get to where he is. We will arrive shortly, with a minimum of difficulty after some heavy petting in the back of the Taxi on the way over. We will tip generously, and make vague threats to the Taxi Driver, who will drive off in a hurry.

Once inside Ethan's flat, we will be all hugs and smiles for Renee and Melanie. We will get to meet Victoria and anyone else they have dragged along with them. We will give both the aforementioned Ethan and meredithbrooks a European "kiss kiss" and hug for good measure. We will pick Timmy up in a manly bear hug. More small talk and smiles will ensue. We will all begin drinking. Except perhaps Ren, who is expecting.

I'm just getting startedCollapse )

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[09 Apr 2003|03:41pm]
[ mood | mischievous ]

I'm in Jonny.




This one line update has been brought to you by jonnyleemiller, gallagher, and the letters "H" and "A".

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Helping Hurts Nothing, and Rain, Everything [06 Apr 2003|06:23pm]
[ mood | enthralled ]

I have felt, I have tasted.

I am chilled to the bone. I feel a cold coming on, but one well worth the cost.

I am so thoroughly satisfied for the first time in a long time, I can think of nothing clever to say.

No twist of words this time, no subtlety. I have been flattered. I have been surprised. I feel tender and sore, broken and rejuvenated.

***

And now on to the real meat (soy?) of things. This week was very eventful. In no particular order:

A person who is very special to me was hurt. I responded as anyone with half a heart would, and was rather surprised by some responses. Or perhaps I wasn't. Everything was made better, and I'm hoping that I had something to do with that.

A person who is very special to me became moreso. I'm only hoping that my terrible luck overlooks this one, while I've grown rather used to disappointment, I think I'm due for a bit of pleasantness now and then.

A person who I've recently met and is very special to me needed a friend. I was terribly insensitive. I really did have to visit the bathroom. So did he. I'm sorry we left you alone at the table for so long, and I'm hoping we can make it up to you.

Those closest to me seem to be coming and going more frequently than ever. Be safe in your travels, my darlings, and know that my spirit of smarminess follows you wherever you may go. Tie one on and think of me.

Several persons who were once little more than names to me have become something more. I thank you for giving me the chance to get to know you better, and perhaps give you tokens of my affection. I so enjoy giving things.

I kissed him. He kissed me.

No links this time, darlings. You'll have to sort of what's what on your own. Cheers. Oh, and my thanks to all the lovely young creatures that seem to be interested enough in my journal to add me as a 'friend'. Just because I'm not currently aware of who you are doesn't mean I don't have an interest in reading what you have to say. Anyone who wants to read this is either touched in the head, or a glutton for punishment, which makes them interesting enough to 'add' in turn.

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the last of the famous international playboys
[ how soon is now? | right now ]
[ go | earlier ]