Peek-a-boo! It's Moz playing silly Illuminati hand gestures in this photo by Jake. I use it as my Twitter profile picture. I am the sole BRS member in Australia and I live in a suburb of Melbourne's south-eastern pincer grip about Port Phillip. I also went to Morrissey's most recent concert, not coincidentally in Melbourne, on 22 October, 2016. With a blue rose. Which I threw to Morrissey across the barrier during Alma Matters.
But then came this coincidence.
It was Heathercat who noticed it:
I plan my day around the night. A Morrissey omen, the morning is wonderfully cold and wet. I paint Airfix plastic in Humbrol with small brushes. This Japanese Kate will have fictitious Italian 1941 Eastern Front markings when finished, being part 6 of a themed what-if build. A delicate scheme of 5 colours.
She arises after several rounds of skipping hail. It's 1.30 and we're leaving at 2 for her mother's place. A soy milkshake with strawberries, banana and vegan protein powder compliments my bread and vegan hot dogs with mustard lunch. The grey decking wood is dry and warm against my soles as the sun bursts through between showers.
We take both cars and I return with furniture as she goes off shopping. It's like we're cleaning out the house of a dead person, but Nanna's only moved-in with other relatives (one of whom has died quietly at Nanna's new lodgings during the week). I park on the front lawn and wait out the heavy rain, half asleep.
Indoors, I tend to the blue roses. Purchased at the supermarket next to work on Thursday, they've been drinking in food dye and are no longer lily white, but tinged and mottled shades of blue. I didn't know how long it would take and I should have started this much earlier. I make-do with applying a blue permanent maker to just one.
I shower. dress for the occasion and gather my travelling kit. I ask harps jnr to take a photo and discover that I've become like my paternal grandmother: smile, but I am, oh, I see, it feels like I am, we'll try it again. I have to show my tofu-stained teeth for a what I feel to be visible.
It's raining again so I take the little black hatchback to the station at the end of the electrified line. Looking for a seat on the train I find a wallet (with money) and hand it over to the railway staff (still with all the money inside). Good deed done for the day, I settle in for the hour-long haul to the city.
At Southern Cross I have a Lord Of The Fries vegan Melbourne hot dog with chunky chips and Oreo soyshake. Please note, I don't usually have this many not dogs in one day.
Then the walk to Festival Hall and join the queue round the back at door 4. Just before the doors open the rain falls again and I'm glad to be wearing my rain coat, the one I got for my 21st birthday, when, after my few friends had departed, I sat and listened to the Meat Is Murder CDthat I'd just been given. I was alone, 21 and unemployed and didn't know whether to laugh or cry to That Joke Isn't Funny Anymore.
Inside, I join the rush to barrier. I'm to the right of stage, in front of a speaker tower. 2nd row, I'm within rose throwing distance. Time to take a photo and tweet it. The world knows where I am.
A video posted by Annette Wagner (@netti_wagner) on
Nutbush really amps us up for what is coming.
He walks on stage and I've never been so close. Last time at Festival Hall I was seated and distant. At the Sydney "my life is an" Opera House last year I was in the nose bleed last row, sat up against the inside of one of those iconic white sails. Now I'm just a few meters away and wondering how and when to rose toss. He is beautiful.
From the starting number of Suedehead it's clear that Moz and co. are in good form. And did He just glance in my direction twice during the opener?
Next up, Alma Matters. Mid-way he walks over to my side and he's standing near the edge of the stage, directly in front of me. Maybe I should wait, but here's a clear invitation. We get the BRS stuff over and done with quickly. I toss the rose and he moves a hand to catch it, but it they miss each other. A deliberate fresh-airing? Maybe. He's already accepted his annual rose gift for 2016. I know I'm going to be accused of going off too soon (Ratty is so predictable). Of course, I've waited 5 years to do this.
He only comes close to where I stand once more, but I get to see plenty of Jesse coming forward and playing solos right in front of me. The concert goes on. With no foot room to dance, I undulate, sway and weave, anticipating each note, chord change and everyone around me should be glad that even I couldn't hear my singing. One of the great things about Morrissey in concert is that he can reach into his repertoire of singles, album tracks and B-sides and still make it sound like a greatest hits set list. There's also a great continuity of theme.
Further along the barrier someone has white roses with a note attached. They are held out to him and at one point he teases an acceptance. Eventually, before the encore I think, they are handed over to the a bouncer, who places them on the edge of the stage and a roadie them moves them to Morrissey's monitor. Spied, he leans over and waggles the fingers of both hands over them and motions to another roadie to pick them up. Unfortunately, I have video evidence of the white roses not none of my blue one.
More finger action happened in Singapore on 16 October when Morrissey was photographed giving a V sign. Regular (sic) followers of the Blue Rose Society story will be aware that the V sign was referenced on the MW blog as having Illuminati overtones. See below for Morrissey and a small selection of several evil people giving the V sign. Of course, Moz is not evil; we might reasonably assume that he is ironically drawing our attention to others that are.
All going well I will in in the presence of Morrissey on Saturday night at Festival Hall. I have a ticket for the floor. I also intend to be carrying blue roses. I don't expect His hand to reach out for them, as Jesse's blue roses have already satisfied the annual picking event.
PS:
Morrissey GIFs on Twitter has found another owl eyes incident: from 2004! Below is the GIF, which appears to originate from this zipped-up cardigan gig at Hultsfred in Sweden. There's a full concert video and the momentous moment happens during I'm Not Sorry, which is introduced following a monologue about Sweden's 2004 Eurovision song: thus, Morrissey makes a (pre) MW/Illuminati sign after commenting on the contemporary music scene.
