(cool logo)
[soundcloud url="http://api.soundcloud.com/tracks/5981156"]
Check the way he does the trees - bonkers. [youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4-cYsU_Rxr4&w=700]
My name is Huse. I am 37. I live in Kensal Rise. I have no pets. I am single. I have no children. I have very soft hands. I own a bronze bust of Burt Reynolds wearing a Fez. I am a director. I started in TV, then moved into music videos, then commercials. I am currently directing a documentary film about the DJ David Guetta. I once hung out with Paul McCartney for a week. That is all you need to know. What's your favourite of the things you've done? [youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=30w8DyEJ__0&w=700] This is my favourite video that I ever directed. Arctic Monkeys "Brianstorm". We shot this at Pinewood Studios on the night of the Brit Awards in 2007 when the band had won pretty much everything. We had a big TV in the studio and stopped filming every twenty minutes or so that they (and the film crew) could watch their pre-recorded acceptance speeches where they were dressed as characters from the Wizard of Oz and The Village People. It was my favourite filming experience of all time and the third shoot I had done with them.
The starting point for me when doing videos is always the track. The drums were insane. I wanted to do something almost tribal and superfast cut and I wanted to mess with the rock genre. I took inspiration from ghetto fabulous RnB videos and we got a fuck of massive LED backdrop with visuals created by United Visual Artists who are genius. I then shot the band entirely from behind. Everyone thought I was mad but I just knew it would work and the results speak for themselves. It was edited by the legendary Sam Sneade who edited all of Jonathan Glazer's videos.
Okay so we need three things done by other people that inspire you I struggle to find inspiration from anyone or anything but there's definitely "stuff I like".
Mark Gonzales was my childhood hero. He was a skateboarding legend. His style was effortless. He did whatever the fuck he liked. I even like his art, some of which is definitely questionable. I still want to be him. Here he is in the seminal skateboarding film "Video Days" directed by non other than Spike Jonze:[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K4Rx4gbMN08&w=700]
Neil Young's "After The Goldrush". I never tire of it, particularly the track "Don't Let It bring You Down". His lyrics are phenomenal. Here's a live version:[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uG1HY2zLc1s&w=700]
I recently saw a film that went straight into my top twenty of all time - Close-Up (1991) by Iranian filmmaker Abbas Kiarostami. I've never seen a film like it before. Here's a scene from it which will make no sense unless you watch the movie in its entirety:[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qIfwOHp2auo&w=700]
Why, when and how did you start getting into directing? I studied Spanish with Business Studies, ironic considering I'm pretty much numerically dyslexic and don't really know anything about money. I had no idea what i wanted to do with my life. One minute I was doing GCSEs, the next A-levels, then before I knew it I was at college. All I did was skateboard. It was all a blur. I had no forward vision whatsoever. When I left college I was unemployed for a year, sleeping in til 2-3pm, and then a friend told me about he he got a job as a runner on a TV programme and I thought "hey, I like TV and film..."
What was your first job like then? My first ever job as a runner was on a children's road safety programme for Channel 4. They were re-creating traffic accidents but obviously couldn't use kids so we worked with a team of stunt midgets. To this day some of the nicest people I've ever met. All they did all day every day was fall off bikes and get hit by cars. They didn't complain once.
What's your favourite thing about what you do? I love being on set. I love seeing my vision, something which rattled around in my head come to life. In general my attitude in life is to always expect the worst, so when I look at that monitor and see something that looks amazing I'm always pleasantly surprised.
And what's the hardest? Stress. Anxiety. Rejection. I constantly try and remind myself how fortunate I am to be doing what I do. I have had some amazing experiences over the last 13 years. It's not made me rich by any means and sometimes months go by without a single penny coming in....but I don't know what else to do and I think I'm pretty good at what I do and I'm going to stick with it.
One top tip for the aspiring artist? It has never been easier to make films. Technology now allows anyone with even half an idea to grab a camera such as a Canon 5D, shoot something and edit in on Final Cut. This doesn't mean everyone is a film maker but why the fuck not give it a go. If you have an idea act on it, rather than intellectualising if its any good or not for too long. That's pretty much why I don't do videos anymore because I'm over critical and over analytical of my ideas.
What do you do in your down time? Surfing in North Devon.
BMX, skateboard or snowboard? Skateboarding turned into Snowboarding and then surfing for me. Some of the most incredible and emotive times of my life have been spent in the mountains and in the ocean with my nearest and dearest friends.
Who do you work with? I work alone.
What's your dream project? I would like to direct a feature film before I am 40. It might kill me but I'm ready to give it a shot. I'm currently working on a documentary film and I've come close to punching someone on at least three occasions.
Who would you most like to work with? Gene Hackman
What's your favourite saying? Not so much a saying, but a line from a film - Charlie And The Chocolate Factory. Gene Wilder - "We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of the dreams." [youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3pwvB4_Te8A&w=700]
[youtube=http://youtu.be/mHglfyQOd2s&w=700] Magical. Instead of chopping up stuff on YouTube, this time Kutiman wandered around Jerusalem, meeting and filming musicians. R-o-c-k-i-n-g.
From The New Enquiry: Jack Cheng highlights Letters of Note collected at the Children’s Library in Troy, Michigan:
In 1971, Marguerite Hart, the children’s librarian of my hometown of Troy, Michigan, wrote to dozens of politicians, writers, artists and otherwise notable individuals asking them to send in a few inspirational words for the children of Troy on the opening of its first public library.
[…]
97 letters came back in response to Hart’s request, and a handful of them were recently highlighted on Letters of Note, like E.B. White saying that books were people—”people who have managed to stay alive by hiding between the covers of a book.”
Or, Dr. Seuss being Dr. Seuss:
From The New Yorker:Big Ted Little Ted, by Rieves Wiedman
One day last fall, Ted Mann, a Brooklyn restaurateur, got a call from his father. This was unexpected, because Mann, who is forty-two, had never met his father. Given up for adoption at birth, he was raised by a single mother in Bay Ridge, where, at twenty-eight, he opened his first bar. He now owns nine, and was busy with preparations for two new locations—a beer garden in Park Slope and what he calls “the Katz’s Deli of Bay Ridge”—when his dad called.
“Hello, son,” said Ted Nugent, guitarist, gun activist, and star of a reality-TV show, “Runnin’ Wild,” that centers on Nugent chasing people through the woods. Add another line to his résumé: Ted Mann’s father.
This required some explanation. In 1968, Nugent and his girlfriend, both teen-agers, were living in New York. She got pregnant, and they gave the baby boy to Catholic Charities. “We were very young and we were in love/lust,” Nugent told Mann. “More love than lust, but plenty of lust. And, oh boy! There’s just a tsunami of adventure cravings at that age.” The baby went straight from the hospital to the home of Mary Mann, an Irish Catholic mother of four. Ted Mann felt loved, and saw no need to seek out his parents. His younger sister, however, did. A few years ago, Louisa Savarese, also adopted at birth—Nugent has nine children from several relationships—hired a genealogist to find her parents. “Well, you’ve got a brother,” Nugent told her when she reached him. “Can I look for him?” she asked. Nugent offered his blessing.
“The first thing I thought of when I heard was: hunter,” Mann said the other day at Cebu, his Bay Ridge bistro. He wore brown wingtips and a double-breasted cardigan. He had never held a gun, and didn’t know many of his dad’s songs, so, after the phone call, he went to YouTube. There was his father, ripping into the opening bars of “Kiss My Glock,” shooting rifles with Anthony Bourdain, and telling then Presidential candidate Barack Obama to “suck on one of these”—a pair of machine guns. The revelations kept coming. Mann was Norwegian. The middle name his parents gave him was Fleetwood. “Some of the time my dad spent with my mom was in a Cadillac Fleetwood,” he explained. “I’ll leave it at that.”
A month later, Mann flew to Texas. He met his sister, in Austin, where they spent two days “laughing and crying and freaking out” before driving to his father’s ranch, in China Spring, near Waco. “There he was, standing on his porch with his big cowboy hat,” Mann said. “I thought I was gonna throw up or jump out of the car and run off his property.”
Mann pulled out his iPhone to look at photos from the trip: Big Ted and Little Ted kneeling before a grill covered with elk steaks; Little Ted aiming a rifle (his girlfriend: “I think you just got sexier”); the contents of Big Ted’s pockets—handgun, ammo, handkerchief—displayed as part of a lesson in “what a man should carry”; father and son, arm in arm, holding a semiautomatic rifle and an Uzi. “I couldn’t believe it,” Mann said. “Here I am, a grown man, and I wanted to make sure I hit the bull’s-eye so I could show my dad I can shoot.” Mann flicked to another photo: a deer carcass hanging from a tree. “He sends me random shots of everything he kills now,” he said.
In April, he joined his dad on a hunting trip in Michigan—his “baptismal bloodletting,” Nugent called it—and, earlier this month, Nugent came to New York. He was in town for a concert, at the Iridium, and several media appearances. Howard Stern told him to bring the kids. (Stern to Mann: “Have you gotten laid more now that Ted Nugent is your dad?”) Nugent also wanted to see his son at work, so they went to Cubana Social, Mann’s Williamsburg restaurant—Nugent wore the neighborhood’s only authentic National Rifle Association cap—for empanadas and chorizo burgers.
“I told him, ‘You’re in charge of the pace,’ ” Nugent said recently, on the phone from his ranch. He was soaking several freshly killed venison steaks in ginger ale, his secret ingredient. “But, in the typical Nugent condition of excess, we have caught up with more meaningful father-son time in the past six months than a lot of fathers and sons probably ever get.” He paused. “I’m sure if Tom Petty found his long-lost son it’d be fun. But not this fun.”
The Reanimation Library is a small, independent public library in Brooklyn. It collects books that have fallen out of routine circulation and keeps them for their visual content. Outdated and discarded, they have been culled from thrift stores, stoop sales, and throw-away piles, and are given new life as a resource for artists, writers, cultural archeologists, and other interested parties. The catalogue on their website has scans from some of the more interesting books. Among them, this 1972 bad boy, What Makes Men Tick. It is, now more than ever, an essential guide for all women on how to best serve as a dutiful wife *ahem*.
The man who has it all
Excellent old school infographic
Yup, that's exactly what "we" do
Best. Caption. Ever.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mDlHGhKHIdM&w=700] Now THIS is what I like to see. Quite simply a staggering piece of engineering. Stop reading this and JUST PRESS PLAY already.
Came via the excellent WIRED.co.uk site, on which Duncan Geere writes:
A small Japanese company called Furukawa Kikou has built arobot arm that can pick ketchup up and put it down again without losing its shape.
You can see the remarkable process in action in the video above, with added mayonnaise too. The sheet, which is made of Teflon, is wrapped around a sliding plate, which is fixed on one end. As the plate moves out underneath, it picks up whatever substance it's being used on.
It was originally built in 2007 to help bakeries get structurally-infirm pastries out of an oven, but has also found a job in the box packing industry -- as Syoji Tsubaki, the company's sales manager, explains:
"Until now, it generally wasn't possible to transport materials in a sol-gel state," he told Diginfo. "When a liquid pouch is picked or suctioned up, the liquid collects at the bottom. This makes the bottom bulge and the pouch loses its shape, so sometimes you can't fit the specified number of pouches in a box. By placing the pouches in the box horizontally, it's possible to arrange them automatically."
We want one for the Wired kitchen.
First in (hopefully a long, fascinating and highly lucrative series) whereby we find people who do interesting things - whether as a hobby or as a job, with friends or alone, artistic or technical - and discover what makes them tick. First off, the inimitable Jadell Zee, paint spraying soldier of fortune, from London NW10. Who do you write with? I write with THE OTHERS.
Tell us about your favourite piece - where it is and what it is My favourite piece is usually the most recent one I did, because I'm still a learner; so each piece is better than the last. It currently resides in an estate in Stockwell, and it reads 'Jadell'.
Why and when did you start doing graffiti? I started doing graffiti around 1984, but didn't really have a tag until summer of '85. I just got into it when Hip Hop arrived over here, along with lots of other teenagers. It was dangerous, a good laugh, and impressed other kids.
What's your favourite thing about it? My favourite thing is putting my final outline on the piece, and watching it start to snap together. You still have a way to go before finishing; like your background, highlights, keyline and whatever; but I dig it when you finally get a picture of how well you've done with your main filling and 3D.
One top tip for the aspiring artist? I would say bring lots of the caps you like with you. There's nothing that can ruin your day more than having paint that doesn't do what you want of it. Apart from terrible weather of course.
Have you ever been caught? If so, what was the first time Between 1986 and 1989 I was at my most prolific illegally, during that time I was in trouble with the law constantly. I won't bore you with the details, but the first time was just typical stupidity - I was tagging on a wall in paint and the police just happened to be driving past, saw me and pulled up next to me. I didn't even notice because I was a bit....'tipsy'.
Okay, I want three inspirations. They can be other people's pieces, bits of music or non-street art or whatever (and why) Mad Society Kings and Heavy Artillery crews; I know they're an obvious choice but they are constantly pushing the boundries of graffiti; you can learn a lot just by taking your time to figure out how they achieved certain paint effects and techniques. [youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XQrEUWPzF8Q&w=700]
In terms of music, if I'm doing a piece then it would be Black Sabbath. The two just go together so well, it's just meant to be. Or, some quality Hip Hop like Little Brother or Action Bronson. [youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aLq8KZQ0L_8&w=700]
I guess the third would be my crew, The Others. Zaki Dee 163, Snatch, Chum 101 and myself. We get it on because we get along.
BMX, skateboard or snowboard?
Man I do ALL. BMX has probably been the biggest part of my life out of all the three.....but I snowboard more these days simply because more of my mates do it - all my BMX and skate buddies have either given up, got married and had kids, or are too fuckin' fat to do it any more.
Do you have a favourite nozzle? My favourite cap is probably the default one that comes with Montana 94 cans, which for some puzzling reason you can't buy on its own. This is annoying for me, as it's not my preferred type of paint!
Who/where would you most like to do something? I would most like go back in time and do a fucked up MTA train, in 1982's New York, with FBA or CIA!
Wicked collection of vintage mugshots of musicians over at Flavorwire. The one of Frank Sinatra is, quite frankly, scary, and I wonder if the Johnny Cash one is from when he got caught smuggling pills inside his guitar. Bowie, as you'd expect, looks cool as a cucumber and completely unruffled. Note also how many of them look like they've been taken on Hipstamatic... Axl Rose, 1980
David Bowie, 1976
Elvis Presley, 1976
Frank Sinatra, 1938
Janis Joplin, 1969
Jim Morrison, 1970 (got into trouble on my birthday)
Jimi Hendrix, 1969
Johnny Cash, 1965
Ozzy Osbourne, 1984 (wicked sweatshirt)
Steve Tyler, 1967 (I once did a wee next to him. That makes us practically related)
...a few songs from the upcoming Buddy Holly covers album (preorder here, more info etc). As an avid Dysonology follower you'll have already enjoyed Florence and the Machine's version of Not Fade Away, but there are some other rocking tracks on it, notably:
The Black Keys' cover of Dearest - originally it was called "Umm Oh Yeah (Dearest)":[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DNlw9PqXgZc&w=700]
Then there's She & Him covering Oh Boy:[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YX4Qrt7Oi9I&w=700]
Julian Casablancas doing Rave On (not as good as the original):[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9508lgqaaN8&w=700]
And of course Cee Lo Green doing Baby, I Don't Care (You're So Square) - again, I think I prefer the original:[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ntQr7DCBgcI&w=700]
Finally we've got My Morning Jacket doing a faithful cover of the beautiful True Love Ways:[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gwpjg2X8q5s&w=700]
Personally, I think the Black Keys one kicks the arse of the others, though Florence's is pretty flaming good too.
"In the Mail on Sunday, food critic Tom Parker Bowles takes to task the menu writer behind the £10,000-a-head Ark charity dinner attended by the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge at Kensington Palace last week. And with good reason.
The starter was 'Carpaccio of Maldivian long line caught yellow fin tuna'... wait for it... 'fanning an island of Rio Grande Valley avocado creme fraiche, topped with young coconut, with a splash of Goan lime, coriander and sprinkled with toasted sesame seeds'. In other words, raw tuna with lime-flavoured mush.
For the main course, there was a choice of cod or beef and chips.
Not just any old cod, of course, but a 'Pacific Ocean black cod fillet' which as well as being 'hand-glazed' sat 'hand in hand' with 'a delightful English courgette flower beignet'. (As Parker Bowles pointed out, "that's deep-fried in batter to you and me".)
The beef, naturally, was a roasted fillet of Australian Kobe, 'nestling in a Kent garden of pea puree' and accompanied by - among other things - 'to-die-for triple-cooked Maris Piper chips'.
We won't go into the dessert, it's too upsetting. Suffice to say, it involved a 'snuggling souffle' and a 'swirl of sorbet'.
Of course, if you're going to charge £10,000-a-head for dinner, the food's got to be a cut above the average. But as Parker Bowles - who as the son of you-know-who is now presumably related to the guests of honour at that dinner - concludes his article: "If the prose is purple, the food is bound to bore."
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xxq-I_e_KXg&w=700] In the current New Yorker magazine, film critic Anthony Lane finds himself in similar territory. Only it's not the language of the menu he's questioning, it's the look of the dishes.
Lane is reviewing Michael Winterbottom's just-opened big-screen version of the recent British television series The Trip (above), in which the comics Rob Brydon and Steve Coogan tour the north of England sampling restaurant menus for a newspaper article.
"What TV chefs fail to realise, and what Winterbottom observes at once," says Lane, "is that food loses half its savour and allure in the instant of being filmed.
"When our heroes are presented with baby queen scallops and parsnip coulis, you don't think, Yum, gimme me some of that. You think, Yech, crime scene."
Lane, who gives The Trip a surprisingly good review (it didn't look on telly as though it would make much of a film), concludes:
"No other movie is quite so alert to the lukewarm rictus of interest and anticipation which you are forced to adopt, as a fine diner, while a hovering maitre d' - not unlike a herald in one of Shakespeare's history plays, announcing a bevy of dukes - recites the ingredients of your latest dish".
Hear, hear.
By Nigel Horne in The First Post.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c_U92bLGro0&w=700] Wicked, wicked, wicked song.
Robert Louis Stevenson (1850 – 1894) was the novelist behind Treasure Island, Kidnapped, and the Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. A literary celebrity during his lifetime, he is now one of the 30 most translated authors in the world, just below Charles Dickens. His parents were heavily religious and, throughout his life, Stevenson had health problems (tuberculosis or similar). A bit of an eccentric, a sickly only-child, he found it hard to make friends at school. Didn't even read until he was seven or eight, but before then would still dictate stories to his mum and nurse.
When he was old enough to go to university, he told his folks he wanted to pursue a life of letters rather than law (they weren't that surprised), and he started to act and dress more bohemian: he already had long hair but his dress was more velvety and unconventional. He never finished his degree, instead he was drawn more and more into travel and writing. The combination of the two, though, ruined his health. He got married, tried to settle in Europe and the US, looking for a place with a climate where he could be comfortable.
In 1888, Stevenson set sail from San Francisco with his family. They floated from island to island over several voyages, and ended up settling in Samoa, where he took the native name Tusitala (Samoan for "Teller of Tales"). His influence spread to the Samoans, who consulted him for advice, and he soon became involved in local politics. He always struggled with overwork and exhaustion. Here's Wikipedia's account of his last few years:
For a time during 1894 Stevenson felt depressed; he wondered if he had exhausted his creative vein and completely worked himself out. He wrote that he had "overworked bitterly". He felt more clearly that, with each fresh attempt, the best he could write was "ditch-water". He even feared that he might again become a helpless invalid. He rebelled against this idea: "I wish to die in my boots; no more Land of Counterpane for me. To be drowned, to be shot, to be thrown from a horse — ay, to be hanged, rather than pass again through that slow dissolution." He then suddenly had a return of his old energy and he began work on Weir of Hermiston. "It's so good that it frightens me," he is reported to have exclaimed. He felt that this was the best work he had done. He was convinced, "sick and well, I have had splendid life of it, grudge nothing, regret very little ... take it all over, damnation and all, would hardly change with any man of my time."
Without knowing it, he was to have his wish fulfilled. During the morning of 3 December 1894, he had worked hard as usual on Weir of Hermiston. During the evening, while conversing with his wife and straining to open a bottle of wine, he suddenly exclaimed, "What's that!" He then asked his wife, "Does my face look strange?" and collapsed beside her. He died within a few hours, probably of a cerebral haemorrhage, at the age of 44. The Samoans insisted on surrounding his body with a watch-guard during the night and on bearing their Tusitala upon their shoulders to nearby Mount Vaea, where they buried him on a spot overlooking the sea. Stevenson had always wanted his 'Requiem' inscribed on his tomb.
Under the wide and starry sky, Dig the grave and let me lie. Glad did I live and gladly die, And I laid me down with a will. This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from sea, And the hunter home from the hill.
Stevenson was loved by the Samoans and the engraving on his tombstone was translated to a Samoan song of grief which is well known and still sung in Samoa.
The guy's quotes:
Keep your fears to yourself, but share your courage with others.
You cannot run away from weakness; you must some time fight it out or perish; and if that be so, why not now, and where you stand?
All speech, written or spoken, is a dead language, until it finds a willing and prepared hearer.
Books are good enough in their own way, but they are a poor substitute for life.
You can read Kant by yourself, if you wanted to; but you must share a joke with someone else.
The cruelest lies are often told in silence.
Don't judge each day by the harvest you reap but by the seeds that you plant.
Even if the doctor does not give you a year, even if he hesitates about a month, make one brave push and see what can be accomplished in a week.
For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel's sake. The great affair is to move.
Give us grace and strength to forbear and to persevere. Give us courage and gaiety and the quiet mind, spare to us our friends, soften to us our enemies.
The price we have to pay for money is sometimes liberty.
You think dogs will not be in heaven? I tell you, they will be there long before any of us.
I am in the habit of looking not so much to the nature of a gift as to the spirit in which it is offered.
It is a golden maxim to cultivate the garden for the nose, and the eyes will take care of themselves.
It is not so much for its beauty that the forest makes a claim upon men's hearts, as for that subtle something, that quality of air that emanation from old trees, that so wonderfully changes and renews a weary spirit.
Nothing more strongly arouses our disgust than cannibalism, yet we make the same impression on Buddhists and vegetarians, for we feed on babies, though not our own.
Of what shall a man be proud, if he is not proud of his friends?
So long as we are loved by others I should say that we are almost indispensable; and no man is useless while he has a friend.
Sooner or later everyone sits down to a banquet of consequences.
The difficulty of literature is not to write, but to write what you mean; not to affect your reader, but to affect him precisely as you wish.
When it comes to my own turn to lay my weapons down, I shall do so with thankfulness and fatigue, and whatever be my destiny afterward, I shall be glad to lie down with my fathers in honor. It is human at least, if not divine.
You can give without loving, but you can never love without giving.
To an Island Princess From Songs of Travel
Since long ago, a child at home, I read and longed to rise and roam, Where'er I went, whate'er I willed, One promised land my fancy filled. Hence the long roads my home I made; Tossed much in ships; have often laid Below the uncurtained sky my head, Rain-deluged and wind-buffeted: And many a thousand hills I crossed And corners turned - Love's labour lost, Till, Lady, to your isle of sun I came, not hoping; and, like one Snatched out of blindness, rubbed my eyes, And hailed my promised land with cries.
Yes, Lady, here I was at last; Here found I all I had forecast: The long roll of the sapphire sea That keeps the land's virginity; The stalwart giants of the wood Laden with toys and flowers and food; The precious forest pouring out To compass the whole town about; The town itself with streets of lawn, Loved of the moon, blessed by the dawn, Where the brown children all the day Keep up a ceaseless noise of play, Play in the sun, play in the rain, Nor ever quarrel or complain; - And late at night, in the woods of fruit, Hark! do you hear the passing flute?
I threw one look to either hand, And knew I was in Fairyland. And yet one point of being so I lacked. For, Lady (as you know), Whoever by his might of hand, Won entrance into Fairyland, Found always with admiring eyes A Fairy princess kind and wise. It was not long I waited; soon Upon my threshold, in broad noon, Gracious and helpful, wise and good, The Fairy Princess Moe stood.
Tantira, Tahiti, Nov. 5, 1888.
(Via crackunit / @jamesreilley)
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