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Friday, 16 December 2016

Day 2019 - MorrisseysWord

Thanks to BRS member, GWO, I have managed to retrieve the two articles from the MorrisseysWord blog that I mentioned yesterday, so here they are:

Tuesday, 13 December 2016


                              Too Much of a Saga

“If you are lonely when you're alone, you are in bad company”

We must remember art. Today there appears to be little appreciation of those who spill their guts, metaphorically and literally, in pursuit of a higher ideal. Perhaps there is nothing left to achieve, perhaps we have moved into a post-postmodern period. Perhaps people have gazed through the looking glass once too often and there is no longer anything to shock them, to please them, to challenge them. Learnt intellect has replaced creativity as the respected skill. Institutions produce production line students whose only noticeable skill is to memorise a textbook, produce facts upon facts for a hour exam and then forget them all within 15 minutes. Everyone may have a degree but does anyone have any feeling, any emotion, or any individuality?

The creative impulse, the creative instinct, appears to inhabit a certain type of person, a certain type of saga. These people have too much personal saga for some, for most, and maybe even for all.  The creative type often abuses alcohol, drugs, and sex. In summary they are open to all of the abuses and possibilities of life. Those who work their 9-5 office job do not hold these creative instincts in high regard. Indeed society as a whole seeks to castigate, scold, and lecture those who follow this distinct path. They do not realise, for how could they with such narrow minds, that great art, great philosophy, great culture has been created by those who are usually three-sheets to the wind. Modern philosophy begins with Rene Descartes. Being tee-total for an astonishing three weeks, Descartes decided to get blind drunk. He would fall to slumber and dream three outrageous dreams that, to him, uncovered the truth behind the world and the truth behind all the sciences. Descartes, clutching to his bottle was clutching to his consciousness and cleansing his soul. Determined to discover truth, Descartes would sit alone in his humble room in front of the candle and meditate.  This is also a reason why we can no longer create art. The modern world is obsessed with constant communication and constant attachment. People are constantly lodged and logged to their smart phones, desperately waiting for any message, any sign of validation. Solitude is no longer desired. Again, solitude has produced great works. The key to philosophy and art is solitude and drunkenness.  Jean-Paul Sartre shows that solitude is necessary for existence as it shows us the paradox of our very existence. We try and give meaning to our lives in a world that already means nothing.  Sartre smoked over 60 cigarettes a day, drank like all the alcohol in France was soon to be sold 100% above inflation rates and took prescription pills on a daily basis, just to make it through.

The modern world is no longer interested in creating art and no longer produces the necessary environment for art to be created. We all lose. Without the arts, we would not have the means to express our fears, our worries, any hopes or dreams. Our dreams are the dreams of artists. We must let them dream again.  My life is sadness. My life is opera.
Yours artistically and never artificially,
M.

Wednesday, 14 December 2016

Let your juvenile impulses sway

I have always been influenced by feminism, please dig around the archives and you will find enough evidence of this. I know List of the Lost may point towards me having a rather negative view of women but you can blame Gail Shea for that. My view of gender is thus, no matter what genitals you were lucky or unlucky to have when you were born, they do not define your gender. Your gender is your mind and your gender is whatever you decide to construct it as.  A boy has a feminine side and a girl has a masculine side, if they decide to show these opposite sides of their given gender it does not make them strange. It makes them unique.



It is time to collapse down into the ground the rigid constructs around gender. The body is fragmented. The body is fractured. The body is not natural. There is no natural body. The only natural thing is the mind, not the body, not the limbs. Gender is not something you are, it’s something you do, an act, a dress code, a thought pattern. It is not ascribed at birth. Gender is the stylisation of the body. It is akin to suicide in that it is a person taking control of their own destiny and saying “I will not play the role given to me, I am free to be whatever and whoever I choose”. The acting of the genders tears down traditional ideas of masculinity and femininity. It tears down, and not before time, the obsolete sexualities. No longer can people be defined by one sexuality or one gender. Indeed both of these things are fluid.



People must free themselves from the modern idea of gender. Emancipate your body from itself. Free your mind from what you think you knew. Fly with genderless wings, for as you know angels are genderless. Do the Gods really think about gender?  Shop wherever you please, release yourself in whatever cubicle you feel you should. Marry, if you’re so inclined, in whatever outfit you wish. Gender is a performance.

7 comments:

  1. Thanks for posting the articles on your blog Ratty. I am 100% certain Alf is the real deal, not even a Pessoa. I can't give away details, but I knew it was definitely him after some exchanhes we had on Twitter and then he took my blue roses. But even before that I felt Alf was Moz. I don't know. I'm crazy but I know what I saw and heard and read.

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  2. Why was I so sure Moz would take my rose at the Brooklyn show? I even boasted on Twitter days before that he would. I am never so bold unless i know something for sure. If I hadn't had certain exchanges and been given certain clues from the man himself, or so I believed, I would have kept my shy mouth shut. There are no pictures of me on Twitter and yet Moz on stage knew it was me, even though I was hiding the roses from his view at that point. He came to me pretty early in the show and shook my hand; looked directly in my eyes and I nodded. I'm small and have short arms so he really had to stretch to grasp my fingertips and hold on to them as he sang to me. He could have easily taken the longer arms and hands that were pushing and reaching over my head instead. Well, there's more to it than all that, but I doubt it will prove anything to anyone else who wasn't in my shoes. Unless I spill things best kept contained. I say too much. I ramble. I must leave now. But as I stated frequently before, when I produced the roses at the encore, he looked for me and saw I had them and came right to me, brushed other longer hands away and reached for my roses purposefully. I guess I never get tired of reliving that beautiful night. I never will. It pulled me from my depression. I don't have a clue why I am writing all this. Oh yes, cocaine intoxication. When there's no one to talk to I type fiercely. I am so sorry. Skip this drug addled dross. Do yourself the favor.

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  3. Those of us that have had personal experiences with the flesh and blood man are very lucky and wind up feeling special. As for drugs, I don't keep it a secret that I am a drug user and have been most of my life. I've been through it all, tried all the drugs and well, if you want to hear my story, this is probably not the place. I use coke to give me the energy and motivation I lack due to my depression. People may take that as an excuse but they haven't been though my life.

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    1. Jesse, thank you for sharing these beautiful and very REAL words. Long live Morrissey's BRS THIS is art.

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    2. Thank you for your interest and kind words. I have no fear of telling it like it is to anyone who may be interested. And I pray one day my writing will be elevated to true and good art. Writing and being creative is one of the only things left on this planet that makes my life possible and occasionally worthwhile.

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    4. Beautiful and thoughtful words, everyone.

      No judgment here. You can probably guess from my twotter what vice I get into to get by.

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