Kass Carcosa
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jointhekult.bsky.social
Kass Carcosa
@jointhekult.bsky.social
85 followers 48 following 370 posts
rocket-powered raconteur. noisy. possibly feral. over-educated, over-stimulated, and under-caffeinated. writer of fever dreams and other fancy things.

https://kasscarcosa.carrd.co
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jointhekult.bsky.social
Kass Carcosa @jointhekult.bsky.social · 8d
reminder that you can follow along with my novel writing month #WIP for free on #Substack. If you haven't seen me posting it, you can find out more (and be subjected to my singing voice) here

#amwriting #writesky #writingcommunity #booksky #authorsky

jointhekult.substack.com/p/insert-coi...
[ insert coin, babe ] Three Little Birds - A Novel Writing Month Challenge
doing the right thing never felt so illegal.
jointhekult.substack.com
jointhekult.bsky.social
miles and miles afield
i loved the last along by
where dies forgetting

#haiku
#haikufeels
#poetry #micropoetry
November 14, 2025 at 1:42 PM
jointhekult.bsky.social
From my 30-day novel challenge #WIP Three Little Birds that you can follow along with (for free!) on #Substack (bio).

CW: mummies, keychains, museums as morality tales, recreational breaking and entering

#amwriting #writingcommunity #writesky #booksky #authorsky #honoramongthieves
“Did you keep him?” Elena shook her head. “No. I didn’t. People know the first half of the story — that I broke in and stole the cat. They don’t know the other half.” Layla waited, dancing the smaller Mr. Mittens across the table. “I broke into the Grand Egyptian Museum a week later. They never could figure out what was stolen.” “What was it?” Elena smiled, “Nothing at all.” “Nothing?” She nodded, cutting off another length of wire. She spooled the wire back, and sat the spool on the fender. “I took Mr. Mittens back home where he belonged.” “How did you do it?” “Sometimes, the best trick looks like a treasure. The more valuable the treasure - the fewer questions people ask. I mean, would you want to be the curator who found a four thousand year old cat and have to admit you had no idea where it came from?”
November 14, 2025 at 1:37 PM
jointhekult.bsky.social
From my 30-day novel challenge #WIP Three Little Birds that you can follow along with (for free!) on #Substack (bio).

CW: greasy pizza, sticky fingers, friendship, offshoring production

#amwriting #writingcommunity #writesky #booksky #authorsky #sometimesdowells
He sifted through the contents. A stack of Polaroids of trees, buildings, and one stray dog. A hammer with a twist-off cap that hid a screwdriver. Pens from local banks and law offices. A business card for Henri Thibodeaux Consulting Pet Psychologist and Handyman-At-Large. “Ok, so perhaps the real valuables are —” “I swear to Christ, Michel, if you say ‘are the friends we made along the way’ —” “Well, this is interesting,” he said, producing a tiny statue of a songbird. Enamel coating, bright red. He tapped it with a fingernail. Porcelain or bone, sitting on a metallic brass base carved in meticulous florals. “It doesn’t say ‘Made in China,’ and that’s always a plus,” he mused. “Handmade?” Bruce said. “It seems so. I’ll take it to my appraiser in the morning. Maybe it’s worth at least its weight in pennies.” “Let me see that,” Elena said, extending an arm. “Before you drown the poor thing in pizza grease.” LeBlanc sighed, handing it over, “Yes, mother.” He wiped his hands on his pants and brushed crumbs off his shirt. He peered down into his vest where crumbs had escaped. Elena looked the bird over, “I thought you said the lockbox was worth some five figures.” “Perhaps the real five-figure payday—” “No,” Elena and Bruce said in unison.
November 12, 2025 at 3:48 PM
jointhekult.bsky.social
From my 30-day novel challenge #WIP Three Little Birds that you can follow along with (for free!) on #Substack (bio).

CW: corporate life, bandwidth throttling, social commentary

#amwriting #writingcommunity #writesky #booksky #authorsky #sometimesdowells
“It’s funny, you know?” he continued. “It’s like I still expect him to pop right out of there and we can sneak away to a conference room. Work out some fantasy football math on the whiteboards? Do a little Bayesian analysis for our potential? You ever have someone like that?” “Ah,” Elena said. “Yeah, uh. Relatable.” Bruce nodded. The man walked them into a large conference room that looked much like every other corporate meeting room. A long table ringed by central casting’s faux-leather chairs, each facing a padfolio. Multi-line phones at regular intervals. Thrift-store art LeBlanc would recoil at lining the walls. Steel, glass, and the cheapest blinds money could buy were all that separated it from the surrounding cubicle farm. “This is where all the magic happens. The bullpen,” Chadley said, sweeping his arm like he was introducing them to the Grand Canyon. When in Rome, you want to blend in with the Romans. That doesn’t just mean speaking the locals’ flavor of Latin. Everywhere has its jargon — the regional dialects of the working world. It’s not you feeling tired today. It’s “being low on bandwidth.”
November 10, 2025 at 6:07 PM
Reposted by Kass Carcosa
scalzi.com
This is because Netflix has a specific list of approved digital cameras and a specific production pipeline that ends up making everything look extremely same-y. Nothing else looks like a Netflix show, but every Netflix show looks like a Netflix show.

www.vice.com/en/article/w...
November 7, 2025 at 1:20 AM
jointhekult.bsky.social
from my #WIP that you can follow along with (for free!) on #Substack, It Came...From the Video Store (bio)

CW: the midnight after, questionable screen names, The Voice™ (but not "The Voice," babe); ah, #romance

#amwriting #writingcommunity #writesky #booksky #authorsky #romance
tomorrow might be like with him in it. He’d been gentle, in a way. Encouraging. Despite her better judgment (who has time for thinking in a situation like that?) her voice had slipped out. That voice. The one that responded to names like megabigusdickus69420 on MyFriends. An alchemist’s voice, transmuting compliment to currency, moans to melodies, and the most innocuous things to filthy eroticism. A kind of discordant concerto, movements in minor keys behind the implication of major scales. She’d used her voice. That voice. The one that turned compliments into currency and moans into a melody.
Not on purpose, not entirely. She’d gotten lost in the rhythm, and his voice joined her on refrains. Call and response, to the heady sensuous bass of grasping. The percussion of thrusts that go deeper into the heart than most could manage with her. “You’re so fucking hot when you use your words like that.”
“Fuck, you don’t know what that does to me. You’re so good at that.” 
“God, Penny—say it again. Just like that.” She had.
November 7, 2025 at 8:02 PM
jointhekult.bsky.social
From my 30-day novel challenge #WIP Three Little Birds that you can follow along with (for free!) on #Substack (bio).

CW: Clocks, pot calling the kettle black, discharge (firearms), honor among thieves

#amwriting #writingcommunity #writesky #booksky #authorsky #sometimesdowells
“And the girl?” “She’s in the van. I didn’t want to be…” the corner of his eyes framed LeBlanc, “Double crossed by some criminal.” “You’re one to talk, Harlan.” “And I do so love to talk, so long as the talking remains productive.” She inclined her head at the birds. “They’re yours. I just want the girl.” Then I trust if I make a movement or two toward them, you won’t shoot me?” She smirked. “I’m a girl of my word.” Elena looked at the goon with gun leveled toward LeBlanc. Loose, casual grip. The kind of man who stopped losing sleep over corpses years ago. McBain wanted to get out alive. She could trust his self-preservation. The goon, she couldn’t trust. The other one, shotgun under his chin, was slowly reaching for his belt. LeBlanc, trying to keep an eye on everyone in the room, didn’t notice. “Tell your boys to put their dicks away and you can have your little birds.” McBain paused, considering it. His grip loosened just enough to make her nervous. He smiled. “Of course. Gentlemen —” Their attention turned to McBain. Tick, tick — He turned to Elena. She grabbed the coat off the arm of the sofa and threw it at his arm. His gun went off, shattering the window.
November 7, 2025 at 7:59 PM
jointhekult.bsky.social
lost amid a dream
betwixt twisting farther on
than I care to sleep

#haiku
#haikufeels
#poetry #micropoetry
November 7, 2025 at 7:55 PM
jointhekult.bsky.social
"anime food" sounds like the bottom of the food pyramid for weebs
November 6, 2025 at 7:01 PM
jointhekult.bsky.social
heard NYC is getting renamed WokeYC, and that lines for government pronouns are stretching for blocks. they're talking about Shakira law. There are lines of city buses parked along Wall Street saying "totally not the gulag express lol"
.
chat, are they cooked?
November 6, 2025 at 7:00 PM
jointhekult.bsky.social
super big thanks to @wipsnips.bsky.social for setting up a trackbear for all of us doing a novel writing month challenge.

this is where I ended up yesterday

i'm serializing every day, and you can read along with me over on #Substack (for free! bio link)

#amwriting #writesky #booksky #nanowrimo
November 6, 2025 at 6:56 PM
jointhekult.bsky.social
reminder that you can follow along with my novel writing month #WIP for free on #Substack. If you haven't seen me posting it, you can find out more (and be subjected to my singing voice) here

#amwriting #writesky #writingcommunity #booksky #authorsky

jointhekult.substack.com/p/insert-coi...
[ insert coin, babe ] Three Little Birds - A Novel Writing Month Challenge
doing the right thing never felt so illegal.
jointhekult.substack.com
November 6, 2025 at 6:53 PM
jointhekult.bsky.social
from my novel writing month #WIP "Three Little Birds." you can follow along (for free!) on #Substack (bio)

CW: postmodernism, seagulls and fries (and fezzes), awful puns, displaced Goldman's bankers.

#writingcommunity #writesky #authorsky #booksky #caper #amwriting
“The fezzes represent the crowning achievements of capitalism. It’s very post-postmodern.” “Très post-postmoderne,” LeBlanc added. “And the backdrop,” Elena said, gesturing lazily in the general direction of the painting, “Is a statement that only the greatest of great men, real titans of industry, may weather the storms of life.” “Do you think that the artist also means real captains of banking and finance products?” the man asked, eyes glinting under the gallery lights. “You know. The penultimate minds of capitalism?” Her face nearly went blank. She hid it behind a thoughtful smile and wave of the hand instead. “Of course.” “I’m not sure that means —” LeBlanc began, but Elena’s glare stopped him. “Vérité. Très vérité.” “My daughter loves that book!” the man brightened. “Coleen Hoover?” “In any case —” Elena said, “This is truly a once in a lifetime opportunity for you to acquire a piece like this.” “I feel so honored,” the man said, “I didn’t expect to come in here and meet the Miranda Truelove.” LeBlanc nodded solemnly, but with a perfectly friendly smile and a pat to the man’s shoulder, “Yes, I happen to have connections all around the art world. My friend Miranda here —” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “— just happened in this morning too. What a coincidence!” “What a coincidence indeed,” Elena said. “It’s positively kismet.” “Is that the artist’s name?” “Ah — Yes indeed it is,” Elena said, “A miss Synchronicity Kismet. A real up-and-comer locally.
November 6, 2025 at 2:01 PM
jointhekult.bsky.social
what's a name but things
the mind whispers to itself
waking from a dream

#haiku
#haikufeels
#poetry #micropoetry
November 6, 2025 at 1:41 PM
Reposted by Kass Carcosa
nickjbrumfield.bsky.social
You know all those "strong men build" hustle guys have never actually read Marcus Aurelius' Meditations deeply because it's basically an old man who is at the apex of his world's social order constantly complaining about how none of it makes him happy and it's all meaningless
November 5, 2025 at 1:33 AM
Reposted by Kass Carcosa
authorwinifred.blacksky.app
Generally respect the preferences of the owner-operator, but I prefer my forks circumcised.
thisone0verhere.bsky.social Jonathan Edward Durham @thisone0verhere.bsky.social · 9d
Hi this is not okay thank you
November 5, 2025 at 5:49 PM
jointhekult.bsky.social
from my #WIP I'm serializing free on #Substack (bio) "It Came From the Video Store." (on short hiatus until I finish "Three Little Birds" for novel writing month).

CW: the Hello Kitty Couch song, pianos, awkward mornings

#writesky #writingcommunity #booksky #authorsky #romance #tentacletuesday
“I wouldn’t say I wrote it, so much. I just…started playing it and it came together. You know what that’s like too, though. Some things are written. Some things just…show up.” Penny nodded, “That’s how the Hello Kitty couch song —” “Please don’t subject me to that again today. This is only my first cup of coffee and I’m out of strychnine. But you’re one to talk about churchy. I’m not the one quoting Revelation in my lyrics for Leigh.” Penny blushed and nearly dropped the book again. “You…knew about that?” He leaned back against the piano, rings tapping against the mug, “I don’t think anyone else would have. But you’ve shown me enough of your songs that I can recognize your voice. Leigh’s a great singer, but those songs Hexcadia performs — it’s not lost on me that’s your voice behind the voice.” Julian’s eyes lingered on her a moment longer before he looked away, fingers trailing back across the piano keys like they’d missed him. “So,” he said, voice casual but quieter than before, “how are your shows going? You never finished telling me about Tentacle Tue—” “They’re fine. Great. Nothing really to talk about,” she laughed a little bit. Penny found herself suddenly wishing she’d tried a little less hard today on her outfit. Maybe she should’ve gone with a nice, massive hoodie to hide herself in.
November 5, 2025 at 4:33 PM
jointhekult.bsky.social
from my 30-day novel challenge #WIP "Three Little Birds" — that you can follow along with (for free!) on #Substack (bio)

CW: Norman Rockwell, museum security, potted plants, opening night galas

#amwriting #writingcommunity #writesky #booksky #authorsky #caper #heist
Not just cameras and huscle. They’ve got some new tech running infrareds just above shoulder height. Word is there’s some new facial recognition tech in here —” Elena winced. “— but it isn’t active yet. You don’t need to worry. But a whole Fort Knox of active measures are loaded in here.” LeBlanc almost spit his champagne out, “For Francois Perrier? For Norman Rockwell? Matisse I could understand, but this —” He gestured around broadly. Elena tilted slightly to avoid his stick. She patted him on the shoulder. “There’s no accounting for taste. No reason to yuck someone’s yum.” “The world was a finer place when we could yuck someone’s yum. Some people’s yums are just…” He trailed off, downing the last of his latest champage and depositing the flute in a nearby planter. “…ew.” She adjusted the fall of her shawl again reflexively. She discreetly scanned the room again. Bruce seemed right. Even the human element of the place seemed a bit too engineered. The servers with nearly-matching walks in neat, orderly rotations. A few large men in suits with slight bulges to their suit jackets. Too many guests who didn’t seem to care what the exhibit was even for, only what it said about them to be in attendance. The latter, at least, was to be expected. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say this whole thing was a scam.”
November 5, 2025 at 4:29 PM
jointhekult.bsky.social
it is when the moon
hits your eye, big pizza pie
that — that's amore

#haiku
#haikufeels
#poetry #micropoetry
November 5, 2025 at 4:24 PM
jointhekult.bsky.social
oops new splashes and book cover
November 4, 2025 at 10:28 PM
Reposted by Kass Carcosa
karenosborne.bsky.social
stop calling your heart's work "content"
November 4, 2025 at 11:06 AM
Reposted by Kass Carcosa
scalzi.com
No one gets to look like they did in their 20s all their life, but one of the things I am finding gratifying (and also, a bit of a relief) is that as I age I'm finding people my age continue to be beautiful. It makes leaving youth behind easier, although I still miss the knees of my 20s.
helenmccarthy51.bsky.social Helen McCarthy @helenmccarthy51.bsky.social · 11d
He doesn't look like that any more - but he did look like that, and eternity held its breath for a moment, and how many human beings does that happen to? The point of beauty that verges on the absurd is its evanescence. Gather ye rosebuds while ye may ...
November 3, 2025 at 10:29 PM
jointhekult.bsky.social
from my 30-day novel #WIP "Three Little Birds" that you can check out (free!) on #Substack (bio)

CW: French, French Fries, French Thief, Awful Puns, Subprime Lending Crisis of 2008, Shellfish

#amwriting #writingcommunity #writesky #booksky #authorsky #crime #dramaedy
You can tell a lot about someone by the art they pretend to understand. If you go into someone’s home and they have a large painting that looks like a bomb went off in a paint factory — they’re trying to tell you something. That they’re complex, unpredictable — dangerous. But, those people are like somebody who buys a gun and sits it in the middle of the coffee table like a steel centerpiece. The kind of man who proudly collects guns, but never oils them. A man who wants to be feared — but never quite worth fearing, and never reflects on why that is. “Of course, it’s good for the city,” the man in the suit reflected, “These projects are deeply educational. You know. For the kids.” “Ah, vérité, mon ami. Les enfants.” “Oh no, not just infants,” the man said, “Kids of all ages.” Then there’s the man who wants his art to look like it’s chosen by a committee — but a hip and trendy committee. Edgy enough to be tasteless, but tasteful enough to say “it’s ok. Buy my latest product.” The art of the bureaucratic midlife crisis. Pathological adherence to routine — predictably beginning his day at the highest rated coffee shop on Yelp this month. “Yes,” LeBlanc said, “A man — though not one of taste, such as yourself monsieur — might look at this and say ‘Yes! it has seagulls.’” “It sure does.” “A man might think to himself, ‘If you’ve seen one seagull, surely you’ve seen them all, n’est-ce pas?” “I think so too,” the man nodded thoughtfully. You don’t need to be too clever for this kind of mark. You just need to show them something that feels fresher than the cubicle next door. “But this, mon ami! This is not just seagulls — this is called —” LeBlanc gave a suitably dramatic flourish at the painting, ending with his arm around the shoulder of the man in the windowpane suit. “Le Perilous Voyage of Jonathan Donaldington McSeagull.” “Oh my god,” the man whispered reverently, eyes wide behind his gold-rimmed spectacles. “Jonathan McSeagull. Of course.”
November 4, 2025 at 1:24 PM
jointhekult.bsky.social
exhaling between
my lips, steam drifting to sky
settling within

#haiku
#haikufeels
#poetry #micropoetry
November 4, 2025 at 1:00 PM
jointhekult.bsky.social
crab rangoonification
November 4, 2025 at 4:34 AM