Gypo Nolan writes:
"this was the night morrissey came to the show.

please understand.
i worshipped at the altar of the smiths and the songwriting of The Moz for a long time.
second only to robert smith.

i knew he was there. my tour manager shook his hand. i missed him.

i was nervous.
not in the usual nervous way.
i don't get nervous like that anymore.
it was more.....
i hit stage and couldn't stop judging myself.
i just kept listening to my lyrics ricocheting around in my own head and my terrible judgement setting in ("amateur. stupid. trite. dumb. why did you write this shit?")
i was only happy during mrs. o ("ok. this isn't trite") and astronaut ("ok. this is also good"). what a mindfuck.
i feel like i wouldn't be so judgemental if robert smith showed up.
but morrissey has been so vocal about his total hatred of certain things. i totally pictured him leaving the venue four songs in with a thought bubble above his head reading "talentless twats. waste of my evening."

brian picked up on my nervousness and to top it all off the place was air-conditioned to shit (cold = bad gig) so LA was ok. but not great. morrissey left right before the end of the show.
i am sort of glad i didn't meet him.
i had the chance to, about two years ago, at a german festival. i declined. i was just too afraid he would be a dick and then the music would be marred (no pun intended).

i hate that about music. when the magic is ruined. its only happened to me once or twice, but it's devastating.
if you love music, and then you meet the source, and the source disappoints you, you can never hear those songs the same way again. i've tried to avoid that now. on purpose.
some music is just too good."