|Gustav und Katze|
Yes, his cat was named “cat.”
Edward Gorey was a big cat lover. What? You knew that already? K.
According to Artists and Their Cats, Gorey’s great loves were the New York City Ballet, books and cats. I totes understand. One of his beasties was lame and always perched on his shoulder. Smart cat—why gimp around when you can ride high, in style.
Gustav Klimt and Salvador Dali were cat people too. Must be something in the paint and ink, eh?
William Shakespeare died on April 23, 1616, at the august age of 52—pretty awesome considering he lived in London during those lovely Bubonic Plague years. What with rats having the run of the joint and raw sewage all swimmy in the Thames, it’s amazing that anyone made it past childhood.
Christ almighty, in his 52 years the man wrote 37 plays and 154 sonnets, bringing mega tons of new phrases to the English language—expressions that are still used today, more than 400 years later such as:
- Break the ice—The Taming of the Shrew
- Eaten me out of house and home—Henry IV
- [What] a piece of work [is man]—Hamlet
|Poster on our living room wall.|
|Sexy beast with one gold earring|
Dude married Anne Hathaway (no, not that Anne Hathaway) when he was 18 and she 26. Precocious fuck, wasn’t he?
Why’s Shake-boy on my mind? Eh, I’ve been reading Bill Bryson’s awesome Shakespeare, The World as Stage AND my buddy Joe recently went to see King Lear performed on the Common. Envy city. Except, well, even if the show was ASL ‘terped, I would have still needed a libretto. I read Shakespeare slowly, very slowly otherwise it zooms over my tiny tête.
Some of my fav Beatle songs were written by George. Did ya know? He was only 14 when he joined the Beatles. Imagine that! At 14, I was barely able to tie my shoes, croak out full, coherent sentences or play a C scale of my flute. At 14, Harrison was such a fine guitarist that McCartney invited to join up. He must’ve been hot stuff indeed because, seriously now, how many young adults can stand to be around a kid, barely out of grammar schoo, whose voice is still changing? Hells bells, he was just past needing a sitter when his folks went down to the pub at night.
The songs of his in my head this morning?
From Revolver, I Want To Tell You. From Abby Road, Here Comes the Sun. From All Things Must Pass, Isn’t It a Pity.
Yeah, the play list’s jam packed this morning.