matouenpeluche

Grandmaster Kitten

This is Grandmaster Kitten. He has the tunes and the rhymes to start any party. Here's his favourite rhyme:

 

I'm Grandmaster Kitten here on the tables

selecting wicked beats whenever I am able

I am the kitten that will get the whole place jumpin'

the people really think that I'm a special somethin'

Joseph Saddler - the man he is my scratching king

he's the pioneer who began the hip hop thing

with him and the Furious rhyming up a storm

the breaks and the hip hop revolution was born

it is my aim to pay tribute to their skills

that I may do my job and give the people thrills

 

So, just so you know, the Joseph Saddler mentioned in the rhyme above is the legendary Grandmaster Flash who along with his Furious Five were one of the first 'groups' to perform hip hop way back in the mid seventies. Incidentally, there is an interesting documentary on Netflix at the moment called "Hip Hop Evolution" which talks about the beginnings and overall history of hip hop over the past four decades.

Bondi Sandstone Pegasus: Art Deco Seat for the poet Henry Kendall

This attractive Art Deco seat (made from Bondi sandstone) was built in 1939 for the Australian poet Henry Kendall. It is in the Royal Botanic Gardens in Sydney, Australia which I had a stroll through on the weekend. I had not heard of this poet, so I looked him up and here I present a the second stanza from his poem "Bellbirds":

 

The silver-voiced bell-birds, the darlings of day-time,
They sing in September their songs of the May-time.
When shadows wax strong and the thunder-bolts hurtle,
They hide with their fear in the leaves of the myrtle;
When rain and the sunbeams shine mingled together
They start up like fairies that follow fair weather,
And straightway the hues of their feathers unfolden
Are the green and the purple, the blue and the golden.

 

You can read more about Henry Kendall and his poems here.

George Barbier illustration for Fêtes Galantes

I thought this illustration with its moody sky by George Barbier (for Paul Verlain's "Fêtes Galantes") was pretty appropriate today seeing as we've just had a gigantic storm sweep through Sydney. Well that's my excuse anyway for posting this gorgeous George Barbier print!

Pascal: Zen pug

So far we have seen Pascal at the footy and swimming in his favourite river. Here we see him in quiet contemplation with a flower as part of his daily zen meditation practice.

Incidentally, his favourite Zen Haiku is by Ethel Freemen:

Brown mimosa seed 
where blossoms once invited 
hummingbirds to feed. 

Feline Funny.

Ouch! Sorry about the pun in the title there folks. However, I have to ask, are these cat jokes so bad they're good ...or is there no such thing as a bad cat joke? You can decide:

1. Q: What do you get when you cross a chick with an alley cat?

   A: A peeping tom.

2. Q: Why don't cats play poker in the jungle?

   A: Too many cheetahs.

3. Q: Where does a cat go when it loses its tail?

   A: The retail store.

4. Q: If lights run on electricity and cars run on gas, what do cats run on?

   A: Their paws.

5. Q: Why is it so hard for a leopard to hide?

   A: Because he's always spotted.

 

Image from T.S.Eliot's Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats.

The Owl and the Pussycat

  The Owl and the Pussycat

The Owl and the Pussycat is my drawing from the weekend and rather than me saying anything at this point I thought it more appropriate to give you the original poem by Edward Lear who is one of my heros!

 

I

The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea

    In a beautiful pea green boat,

     They took some honey, and plenty of money,

    Wrapped up in a five pound note.

The Owl looked up to the stars above,

    And sang to a small guitar,

'O lovely Pussy! O Pussy my love,

      What a beautiful Pussy you are,

  You are,

  You are!

What a beautiful Pussy you are!'

 

II

Pussy said to the Owl, 'You elegant fowl!

    How charmingly sweet you sing!

     O let us be married! too long we have tarried:

    But what shall we do for a ring?'

They sailed away, for a year and a day,

    To the land where the Bong-tree grows

And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood

    With a ring at the end of his nose,

His nose,

His nose,

With a ring at the end of his nose.

 

III

'Dear pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling

    Your ring?' Said the Piggy, 'I will.'

So they took it away, and were married next day

    By the Turkey who lives on the hill.

They dined on mince, and slices of quince,

    Which they ate with a runcible spoon;

And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,

    They danced by the light of the moon,

     The moon,

     The moon,

They danced by the light of the moon.

 

The 14th of October. This day in history...

(Image from The Castle Keep)

The Norman (French Viking) William the Conqueror defeated English Harold at the Battle of Hastings in 1066. Above is the iconic Bayeux Tapestry (more embroidery actually) of Harold's defeat. A very important moment in history and a super important moment in the English language - we now have approximately 30, 000 words in the English language that have a French origin as a result.        

 

(Image from wikipedia)

Lovely Lillian Gish was born in 1893. You may remember an earlier post I did about Lillian and her sister Dorothy. That's Lil on the left and Dot on the right.

 

(Image from Syracuse)

One of my favourite American poets e.e.cummings was born on this day in 1894. Here's a terrific poem of his.

'the hours rise up'

the hours rise up putting off stars and it is

dawn

into the street of the sky light walks scattering poems

on earth a candle is

extinguished    the city

wakes

with a song upon her

mouth having death in her eyes

and it is dawn

the world

goes forth to murder dreams...

i see the street where strong

men are digging bread

and i see the brutal faces of

people contented hideous hopeless cruel happy

and it is day,

in the mirror

i see a frail

man

dreaming

dreams

dreams in the mirror

and it

is dusk   on earth

a candle is lighted

and it is dark.

the people are in their houses

the frail man is in his bed

the city

sleeps with death upon her mouth having a song in her eyes

the hours descend,

putting on stars...

in the street of the sky night walks scattering poems

 

(Image from Sound on Sound)

Cliff Richard was born on this day in 1940. Cliff Richard was Britain's answer to Elvis - well an attempt at it anyway...

On this day in 1947 Chuck Yeager was the first man to fly faster than the speed of sound in his Bell X-1. I've always had a thing for Chuck ever since I read Tom Wolfe's  The Right Stuff. Chuck was the real hero of the whole space race in my opinion...

 (Image from Airport Journals)

Lots of other cool stuff happened today too...Roger Moore for example was born in 1927, Dwight D Eisenhower was born in 1890 and so was Isaac Mizrahi in 1961.

...and it is also my birthday today too!! Yippeee! 

Ode to Autumn

Ode to Autumn by John Keats

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness!
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the mossed cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'erbrimmed their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reaped furrow sound asleep,
Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers;
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, -
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing, and now with treble soft
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

Yesterday, Sunday, my boyfriend and I went for a walk through the gardens and bush surrounding the Eastern suburbs here in Sydney. I can't tell you what a glorious day it was! I couldn't stop thinking of Keats' "Ode to Autumn" as I was walking along. Apparently he wrote a letter to a friend after taking a Sunday walk in September of 1819 and said how lovely Autumn was and how much more he preferred it was to "chilly" Spring. This Sunday walk inspired "Ode to Autumn".

In other news, there is a fabulous print give away of my work over at Lilly's Life!

Have a lovely rest of your Spring weekend Northern Hemisphere - ians and enjoy your Autumn week you folk down South!