Moody Blues

Everyone knows I love Morrissey.  Always have, always will.  But you can only listen to him so much in one day. As the ex-reigning queen of teen angst, I should know this by now.  It was freezing and somewhat dreary this morning, so I was in the mood for him.  I got to the office and hit play on my Morrissey channel on Pandora radio and have been so swamped until now that I haven’t really paid any attention.   The channel consists of Morrissey and The Smiths obviously, The Cure, Depeche Mode, and the occasional Radio Head and Echo & The Bunnymen mixed in. A cheery bunch.

I just got up to help a co-worker with something and found myself to be really dragging.  I came back to my desk and slumped back into my chair.  It took a few minutes to register what was going on.  I worked out last night, I slept well and I’ve been so busy that the day has flown by.  All good things.  So why I am feeling so incredibly blah?  Because without even realizing it, I’ve been listening to these bands for six hours straight.  I love them all, but the lyrics have sunk into my sub-conscious over the course of the day.  It’s almost as bad as the time I saw P.S. I Love you and then listened to The Pogues “Love You Til The End” on repeat…..for days.  Ok, not that bad, but still bad enough.  And say what you want about the movie, but I cried so hard I almost couldn’t walk out of the movie theater.  Like Sophie’s Choice hard.

The only solution I see here are some videos of puppies or something equally cute, a piece of chocolate and Lady Gaga.  Stat.  In fact, I recommend these things as a general cure-all.

Mozipedia!!!

Someone buy me this stat!!!

Mozipedia: The Encyclopedia of Morrissey and the Smiths

They might as well have just deducted the money from my bank account and sent this to me already.   Oh, how I love Morrissey.  I swear to God he made every second of my teen angst worth it.  And even now I can listen to any album and still know exactly what he means.  Although I don’t think anyone loves Morrissey quite like Goddard.  This is his second book about the Smiths after all.

The book is a 350,000 word alphabetical index of everything Morrissey  – described by one reviewer as “the undertaking of a maniac” and by another as “the next best thing to Morrissey’s autobiography (when he actually writes it).”  Oh, how I wish he would.  It will never happen.