Tag Archives: it’s not your birthday anymore

Gasping, Dying, but Somehow Still Alive

Imagine you were seated at a table, fiddling with your swizzle stick when a great spotlight lit upon you.  “Congratulations, you are GREAT, prepare for life at the head of the queue!”  As soon as your fancy calls to mind images of yourself, splayed naked on the back of a jewel encrusted sea tortoise, someone comes along and smashes all your fingers with a ball peen hammer.  Well, glory is fleeting!

I have been offered a show in Duesseldorf in a gallery immediately following Alex Katz.  Aaaaaaand, I have arthritis in my painting hand.  As tempting as it is to get all Morrissey about how the brightest lights attract the bleakest fates, I am not actually all-that-plussed about it.  You see, something terrible happened to me at the end of last summer.  After experiencing my first ever painful injury, I was subject to the alarming  discovery that I am mortal…possibly even vulnerable.  I am going to die like the rest of you scruffy louts no matter how many cherry stems I tie into bows.  This was a a great shock, and has me picturing gruesome tableaux of hideous fates within sight of cars, trains, staircases, knives or large holes.  I assume I will get back to taking existence for granted again and thank heaven!  No sense tiptoeing around in awe and fright like some grateful pilgrim.  I welcome even a slight return of reckless nature. If my hook withers like a monkey’s paw, I will just have it fitted with a rig for holding my paintbrush.  Whatever.  As it is, I have a pretty cool brace in my current favorite color, “spoiled mayonnaise”.  It comes with a fingerless gauze glove, like crippled Madonna!

I have been hard at work in the factory, trying to make this show happen.  You can have a look for yourself, as Cheap & Plastique magazine came to visit.  Mary was also so kind as to update my website, so there is a lot of new work there.

Did I say I wasn’t going to get all Morrissey? I LIED.


Now the party’s over

This week has been rather trying here at Vomitola. The weather has been damp, and this always has consequences for hairstyles, even for the naturally attractive. Humidity is a grave equalizer. Saturn or Venus or something is in retrograde in my 6th or 7th moon or house, and apparently this causes all sorts of cock-upery. I read it somewhere, so it must be true.

I find myself dragging around the manor, dressing gown tails trailing, pondering the sad state of things. Yesterday we failed to acknowledge both Morrissey’s birthday and World Goth Day. Is there any way to recover from this, or should we just call it a year? Let’s put on our Morrissey off-the-shoulder t-shirts and repair to our cryo chamber so we can emerge sluggish and blinking in a few months’ time. Do over!

If only this were possible on multiple counts in life.

At the very least, we can console ourselves that we made the last page (typical) of Flavorwire’s Pictures of Morrissey Looking Happy roundup. This image is part of a series we like to call “Stuff on My Morrissey.” We are still taking submissions, halfheartedly. Thanks. I think.