Back On The Road

I realize it's been quite a while since I've last written on any of my blogs, which comes down to a myriad of reasons, including busyness, stress (I can never handle it), and the dread writer's block. All I've really written in that time is a poem that doesn't dare show its face anywhere. Funnily enough, one of the only things that seems to alleviate stress for me - writing - I can't do because I am stressed - oh life, you and your silly tricks!  So that leaves the last blog I wrote to be over three weeks ago - a review of Aine's book, I Will See You In Far Off Places.  In that time, Morrissey has announced a tour date in - MANCHESTER!

Photo via TTY

I was absolutely not expecting this. Well - the night before there were some whisperings about possible UK dates but then one never wants to get too hopeful about rumours. So, you can only stretch out and wait, really...The very next morning (evening for nearly everyone else on my timeline) typical glum me decided to have a nap (one of my favourite escapist techniques) but first I wanted to tweet a nice photo of Moz as a bit of a pick-me-up:

Never question the magic of the cardigan.

I wake up an hour or so later realizing it's time to give my cat his lunch. That usual depression veil wraps itself around my mind as consciousness resumes.  But my cat is nudging me with his lovely furry face.  I casually check Twitter and - OH MY GOD - my heart nearly stops.  A UK date? I check True To You immediately.  I crumple my bleak sadness veil up into a ball and toss it into the corner of the room for a moment - A MORRISSEY DATE IN MANCHESTER? My friends are crying with excitement. I type nearly constantly in caps with them. I could care less if it's annoying; I'm excited. I open tab after tab after tab of cheapo-airline-econo-class sites and see if this is possible.  It should be. I just need to get a ticket. My hands are shaking - my pulse is racing and that blah "everything is pointless" numbness sitting on my soul lifts a bit (no, A LOT - I know I have been waiting for this). I have plans to make. I book hotels near the venues: I decide I should try to do Berlin as well.  I just need to get my concert ticket: I know the UK doesn't seem to do print-at-home. Our post is on strike - Oh Canada. My beautiful friend Olivia agrees to try to get one for me. More tabs, maps, places to see - the cemetry, Salford Lads Club, the Iron Bridge.

Then - ticket sale day - I check the website - it seems like there are no general admission right away - spinning wheels, frozen pages. Not available. My arms have that anxiety-veins-full-of-ice-water sensation. My heart stops. Nervous nausea. Did they sell out that fast? Morrissey may not have a record deal as far as we know but he can sell out one of the biggest indoor arenas in Europe in moments.  I wait.  Then the tweet appears - Olivia has gotten the tickets - she's a ticket angel!  In England it's 9:15 a.m.  Where I live it's 1:15 a.m. I want to scream-sing Rubber Ring - dance - everyone will wake up.  It takes me until at least 3 a.m. to find ever-elusive sleep, or for it to find me - but this time I don't mind.

Moz is Greatest Mancunian, with seemingly-obligatory "Heaven know's he's miserable now" reference

I'm still buzzing as I write this. I've got most of my trip booked and have started my pre-trip errands. Lots of people want to see me (why? I wonder) - and I want to see them (how uncharacteristically not-so-misanthropic of me).  I'm going to do Berlin too.  I've never been to continental Europe before - I know how to say red wine in German now: Rotwein - which is something. The Tempodrom looks like an amazing venue.

The Tempodrom in Berlin

I've decided to get some notebooks to carry around on my trip. I often type notes into my phone when I want to write things down, but in light of my recent writer's block, and just because I do adore the sensation of holding a book, I thought I'd pick some up yesterday.

Tour notebooks

According to Mando's Instagram - there will be some new songs!

In the meantime, I can't stop thinking of how it feels when Morrissey walks on stage.  It's been almost a year now since the first time I saw him. It was in Seattle. A ferry ride or two away from where I live. I stood on the painted-black car deck watching the ship cut through the deep blue ocean - making white foam shoot up - the faint mist droplets touching my face. Was this really coming true? I'd had a hard year - some hope and some despair. I remember he walked out with the band - he was bathed in gold light and I couldn't believe it was him - in the flesh. There were thousands of other people in the room - but somehow it felt like just he and I. He saved my life - and I was here - and he was here. The band launched into Suedehead, and Moz leaned into the audience and stuck his tongue out. It feels like forever ago - it feels like moments ago.  And after that I managed 9 more shows in about 5 months.

I can't wait for another journey to begin <3