You see the gleam on that Knittah's pendant?

G-Knittah's takin' acorns to a whole 'nother level, son!

Now this here is gangsta craft at it's finest. Ever since I saw Rick Ross' (sorry, Rick "Ro$$") video for The Boss, I haven't been able to get his crazy-ass pendant out of my mind (see Fig.1 below). "I gotta gets me summa dat!" I decided. This is just the first piece in what I hope will be a whole collection of whimsical forest bling. It's a real High Park acorn, cast in brass (future acorns will be gold-plated!), with a brushed, matte finish on the cap, and a super shiny finish on the nut. (If you look closely, you can even see my reflection!) Now who's the biggest boss that you've seen thus far? Huh? Eh? That's right.


Figure 1.

Wu-Haiku: The 8th and 9th Chambers

Well, kids, it's been fun. Here are the final Wu-Haikus, a special two-parter. Thank you all for contributing, and for sharing my love (or, at least, some mild curiousity) for the Wu.

Dialogue Part I: The Question

"Meth, where my Killah
tape at? Where the fu%# is my
tape at?" (Meth lost it!)

Dialogue Part II: The Answer

"How you ain't got my
sh!t when I let you hold it?"
"Forties and blunts, kid."

Not long is how long that this rhyme took me.
Love,
Ghost.

Spring Thing Sneak Peek!

You can cop these this Sunday at the Spring Thing Trunk Show, noon to five at The Workroom!

Back in the day...

I've been Stormed! Illustrator extraordinaire Patricia Storms drew this sketch of me three years ago and only just told me about it now. Way back when I was just a wee bookchimp, I must have sold the unsuspecting Storms a book that changed her life (and by the looks of it, it was a copy of Jonathan Safran-Foer's Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close), prompting her to document the whole transcendent experience on her blog, Booklust. Look at that thin waist, those killer cheek bones, and those fat-ass lips! Was I really that hot three years ago? Anywho, Patricia and I have been drooling over kids books together ever since, and she electrifies the day whenever she strolls into the shop. She even helped me carry a heavy-ass box of poetry books down Bloor Street one time. It's been a pleasure being your dealer, Storms.

Wu-Haiku: The 7th Chamber

Torture

I'll keep feeding you,
and feeding you, and feeding
you, and feeding you.

Embroidered Birthday Moleskines

Okay, so everyone I know has a birthday in April. And since I've decided to make gifts for everyone from now on, it's been a busy month. For my dear friends Emily and Jennifer, I put together these personalized notebooks. Their names are cut out of Japanese Chiyogami paper and pasted onto a couple of tidy Kraft brown Moleskine cahiers, and then outlined with an embroidered chain stitch. It's that last bit that took forever, but they're my girls and they're worth it.

She's a bad motherflickr.

G-Knittah is now on Flickr. I'll be adding more photos soon, but here are a few for now. Pictures from my trip "back home" might end up here in the not-too-distant future as well.

Wu-Haiku: The 6th Chamber

Had My Alibi Tight That Night

Wu-Tang, chickapow!
Walkin' them dogs, milk that cow.
Survey says: you're dead.

Wu-Haiku: The 5th Chamber

It Ain't Safe No More

Mister who is that?

It's the Wu! They're back! They ain't

Nothin' ta fu%# wit.

Old Weston Nest Pins: Now with moss!

Three freshwater pearl "eggs" all comfy and warm in a hand-wrapped wire nest. I've been making these for a while now, so decided to change the game by adding my favourite thing in the world - reindeer moss!
Christ almighty, the Spring Thing Trunk Show (or, The Spring Bling Duffle Bag Show, as I've grown fond of calling it) is right around the corner and I don't have anything made yet! Time to kick it into high gear.

Do not pass GO, do not collect $200.

Just before Christmas last year, my mother decided to dispose of all the remaining relics of my childhood. I wrestled my old Monopoly game away from her though, and managed to save the board, some play money, the thimble, and each of the Title Deed cards. Since no one will play Monopoly with me, and I can't throw any of this crap out (see note about The Believer below - you see, I've got this problem...), I made miniature notebooks out of each property. They are hand-sewn pamphlet style, and contain 40 hand-cut sheets of graph paper ( that I've been hanging on to since eleventh grade math class).

Wu-Haiku: The 4th Chamber

Shamiq from 212

"Is he fu%#ing dead?"

"Fu%# you mean, 'is he dead?' Like

a newborn fu%#ing baby."

Believer Mag Bags

A recent Spring-cleaning adventure resulted in yours truly unearthing a stack of 19 (how many? 19!) unread issues of The Believer. I'm never going to read them. I can't throw them out. The paper is too nice, each page too beautifully typeset, to end up in the blue box. So, I made gift bags out of them. They're even gusseted. (You heard me, eat your heart out, Martha). Relax, I clipped all the Nick Hornby and Javier Marias columns first (and dated them, and stored them in protective plastic sleeves, because I'll get to them someday, because I'm such a freaking nerd). The bags are small (about 4.5 inches tall, 2.5 inches wide) but surprisingly strong, and the handles are made out of some nice, rough twine. These will come in handy during craft show season, making me feel less bad about my sometimes wasteful and often frivolous jewellery-making/packaging endeavours. But now what's a Knittah gonna do with four years of Scientific American?
(Project Soundtrack: Barrington Levy's Too Experienced)

On another note, can I get a "hell yeah" for my man Junot Diaz for straight jackin' some mad Pulitzer gwop? Who said book prizes don't mean anything? Well, okay, I did, but whatever. From The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao:

For Oscar, high school was the equivalent of a medieval spectacle, like being put in the stocks and forced to endure the peltings and outrages of a mob of deranged half-wits, an experience from which he supposed he should have emerged a better person, but that's not really what happened - and if there were any lessons to be gleaned from the ordeal of those years he never quite figured out what they were. He walked into school every day like the fat lonely nerdy kid he was, and all he could think about was the the day of his manumission, when he would at last be set free from its unending horror. Hey, Oscar, are there faggots on Mars? - Hey, Kazoo, catch this. The first time he heard the term moronic inferno he knew exactly where it was located and who were its inhabitants.

Wu-Haiku: The 3rd Chamber

Two For Fives Over Here, Baby

Cash rules everything.

It's about dolla bills, y'all.

CREAM, get the money.

And the first-ever haiku beef begins with two from The Ostrich:

Big Doe's a no show?

Take another listen, son!

Or else it's on, gawd!

Who you trying to

get crazy with essay? Don't

you know i'm loco?

That second one seems to have more of a Cypress Hill vibe, but I ain't gonna hate, it's still awesome.

Wu-Haiku: The 2nd Chamber

Okay, seeing as how you're all kicking my butt on this haiku sh!t, I'ma take it back to basics and stick to lyrics, taking my favourite lines and transforming them into haikus, thereby celebrating the true poetry of Wu-Tang. For instance,

Jacques Cousteau Could Never Get This Low

Shimmy, shimmy ya,

Oooh baby, I like it raw.

Shimmy, shimmy ya.

And here's one more from the ShizNick:

Wu Tang Forever!

Then after Eight Diagrams

Big Doe's a no show.

Wu-Haiku is taking over.

Big Money Mitch, comes correct:

drop needle stitch point

spin woolly old vinyl groove

scarf protect ya neck

This just keeps getting better.

Wu-Haiku: Where's the Love?

Oh my goodness, yet another contribution. I think I will publish an anthology. From "Jade":

Simple black outlines

Silhouettes stenciled on hemp

Nine heads. Eight diagrams.

Wu-Haiku: Streets is talking.

The launch of Wu-Haiku is a proven success - at least one reader has been inspired to contribute! From the mighty pen of fourth G-Uknit crew member (as of this morning), Kza:

Killer bees swarm round

us, yellow and black like the

Bookstore sign. Spring thaw.

Wu-Haiku: The 1st Chamber

The Brief Wondrous Life of Russell Jones

(R.I.P. O.D.B.)

Stormed the stage, yelling,

"Wu-Tang is for the children!"

Then, stole some Nikes.