WHY'S EVERYBODY ALWAYS PICKIN' ON ME?

getoutoftherecat:

get out of there cat. you are not a pound of potatoes i want to wash and prepare for dinner. you would not taste good in soup at all you are a cat.

By gemma correll

Edward Gorey had made himself a perfect fusion of art and life. The artist and author of more than 100 meticulously hand-lettered, intricately rendered little books had to all intents and purposes become one of his own drawings. He was highly visible during intermissions at the New York State Theater, where for a while he attended every performance of the New York City Ballet. He was hard to miss: tall, slender, long of beard, frequently clad in a full-length fur coat and sneakers. He wore a tasteful gold stud in each ear, and what seemed to be dozens of rings on his long, thin hands. His usually bemused expression might have been the result of the partial deafness that left him oblivious of the little squeals of his surrounding admirers.

Ballet and cats were among his New York preoccupations, as witnessed by his conversations with the dance critics Tobi Tobias and Anna Kisselgoff and with Jane Merrill Filstrup, to whom, in Cats magazine, he gave a delightful account of his life with his animals. Of the six cats that he kept in a one-room apartment, every one was more than a little weird — the outstanding example being an Abyssinian, ”all personality and crazed charm,” that didn’t purr until it was 10. Many of his cats were named from classical Japanese literature, one of the myriad subjects upon which he was almost spookily erudite.

Ballet, Cats and Violent Ends ~ The New York Times, 2001