It was on this day in 1959 that Steven Patrick Morrissey was thrust into this world via a gloomy Manchester, England and his mother’s womb. It was this beautiful ethereal man who turned being depressed into an art form. If it were not for him I would have never been able to annoy my friends at a bar by playing all Smiths songs on the jukebox, and I never would have read Oscar Wilde or wanted to kill myself*. I feel a tremendous amount of gratitude to this man for changing my life in 1997 when I first heard
Suedehead on the radio. I was never the same again (the jury is still out whether that was a good or bad thing). After that my love for Morrissey and The Smiths grew and to this day those albums are top shelf listening in my home.
On this special day I suggest all of you take the time to think about all the positive impacts that Moz has had on your own life.
Viva Hate!
*ok, I never wanted to kill myself but in the spirit of Morrissey's birthday I think I am afforded the option to be a little morose.
1 comment:
Do you really think that Morrissey would call it a "happy" birthday?
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