You may or may not know–or even care–but I have been reading Morrissey’s autobiography, Autobiography, since it came out last Thursday. I can’t say anything critical about it here because I’ll be reviewing it in print for MC #41 (on sale Monday Dec 9!). But I can keep talking about it, so I will. Man, I am really enjoying this book. New York is getting cold and this is the perfect tome to snuggle up with while the wind and rain lashes the windows. Yes, I snuggle up with tomes. Sometimes I like to snuggle with gnomes; you probably know them as midgets. Who needs an electric blanket when you’re spooning and being spooned by elves? No one. I’ve been drinking cough medicine. Here is a picture of Moz at a book signing, sent to me by my friend at Penguin. She writes: ‘I just have to say, as a book publicist, I’m loving this photo. That random vase of roses must have fallen over at some point, that tablecloth is going to be a problem, and he needs more sharpies at the ready. I could go on. At least they got him his tea. I can also tell how annoyed he is about to be by the way the line is formed.’
Christmas has really come early for yours truly.