Kay
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kayannbee.bsky.social
Kay
@kayannbee.bsky.social
130 followers 130 following 420 posts
🏳️‍⚧️ Love, rising from the mists
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kayannbee.bsky.social
Photo from a bedroom looking into a bathroom. A mirror to the left of the open bathroom door is reflecting Sara smiling at the camera, though she is not visible through the doorway. In the bottom right is a mirror on the ground, reflecting me taking the photo.
December 13, 2025 at 11:14 PM
kayannbee.bsky.social
cover of The Fifth Season by NK Jemisin
December 8, 2025 at 3:13 PM
kayannbee.bsky.social
Search results on AO3 for the Peanuts fandom tag: 1,013 matching posts.
December 7, 2025 at 4:20 PM
kayannbee.bsky.social
Oliver Wendell Holmes you had a lot of weird ideas about race and gender, but you were awfully funny
Passage from Elsie Venner: “For some reason which must be left to the next generation of professors to find out, the men who are knowing in horse-flesh have an eye also for,— let a long dash separate the brute creation from the angelic being now to be named,— for lovely woman.”
December 6, 2025 at 3:57 PM
kayannbee.bsky.social
If this does anything for you, there are 1320.5 more pages where that came from
What was the organization of illusion, of memory? Who knew even his own divided heart? Who knew all hearts as his own? Among beings strange to each other, those divided by the long roarings of time, of space, those who have never met or, when they meet, have not recognized as their own the other heart and that heart's weaknesses, have turned stonily away, would there not be, in the vision of some omniscient eye, a web of spidery logic establishing the most secret relationships, deep calling to deep, illuminations of the eternal darkness, recognitions in the night world of voyager dreams, all barriers dissolving, all souls as one and united? Every heart is the other heart. Every soul is the other soul. Every face is the other face. The individual is the one illusion.
December 1, 2025 at 12:42 AM
kayannbee.bsky.social
DONE. nothing else like it. thanks @deepvellum.bsky.social for making this object that I’ve carried around like Pizza Rat for the last year
Paperback copy of Miss MacIntosh, My Darling. A Deep Vellum bookmark is on top of it.
December 1, 2025 at 12:32 AM
kayannbee.bsky.social
Colophon for Broadway Play Publishing Inc. It’s a cartoon frog posing like the Vitruvian Man, with multiple arms and legs.
November 29, 2025 at 8:14 PM
kayannbee.bsky.social
Photo of a stone carving of a horse’s head with the caption, “The ideal head of the warhorse.” The horse is kind of doing a “wazzaaaaaap” thing with its mouth.
November 24, 2025 at 12:15 AM
kayannbee.bsky.social
retail therapy
Paperback copies of Dictee by Theresa Hak Kyung Cha and Nostalgia by Mircea Cărtărescu
November 16, 2025 at 8:19 PM
kayannbee.bsky.social
Physical copies of Thomas Merton’s The Seven Storey Mountain and Dennis Cooper’s The Sluts next to each other
November 14, 2025 at 7:13 PM
kayannbee.bsky.social
"The love of our neighbour in all its fullness simply means being able to say to him: “What are you going through?” It is a recognition that the sufferer exists, not only as a unit in a collection, or a specimen from the social category labelled “unfortunate,” but as a man, exactly like us, who was one day stamped with a special mark by affliction. For this reason it is enough, but it is indispensable, to know how to look at him in a certain way. This way of looking is first of all attentive. The soul empties itself of all its own contents in order to receive into itself the being it is looking at, just as he is, in all his truth.” ― Simone Weil, Waiting for God
November 14, 2025 at 3:04 PM
kayannbee.bsky.social
Nobodaddy’s Children by Arno Schmidt. Three novelettes set just before, during, and after an apocalypse in Nazi Germany. One of the strangest books I’ve ever read orthographically (random early page attached), but it feels like you know how to read a new language by the end.
November 12, 2025 at 1:15 PM
kayannbee.bsky.social
determined to finally finish Miss MacIntosh, My Darling, and this was where I had left off. what a book!!
CHAPTER 62 Sometimes Mr. Spitzer wondered if he had ever really slept. Sometimes it seemed to him that the illusion of perfect sleep like the illusion of perfect death was the one illusion which was never possibleat least never for him. He had dreamed that he was oaring with his oar along a dark river which had suddenly turned into a river of fire, molten fire. He had dreamed that the fire had turned into a river of ice brilliant as five-pointed Arcturus. He had dreamed that he had heard the icebergs breaking and roaring along some distant river or estuary or channel as the seagulls upon the ice floes with their white wings folded like the shrouds of ghosts floated out to sea under the frozen nail-head stars nailing down the coffin lid of the sky-and there were old walruses upon the mirroring ice floes like ballroom foors under great chandeliers making tine music, old walruses sitting upon gilded chairs of the fin de siecle period, whichever century it was, and seals on distant ice floes wearing diamond necklaces with diamond crosses. But perhaps all these rivers were one great river of reality burning from light to darkness, darkness to light, water to freezing, ice to star, burning star in the frozen cloud above the ice pinnacles like another star.
November 5, 2025 at 12:03 AM
kayannbee.bsky.social
cried at work so I bought some books
Three books: Jack the Modernist by Robert Glück, The Wax Child by Olga Ravn, and Perverts by Kay Gabriel
November 3, 2025 at 11:55 PM
kayannbee.bsky.social
watched Cure last night for the first time
Yahoo Answers post that says “Aren’t you tired of being nice? Don’t you just want to go ape shitt”
November 1, 2025 at 3:27 PM
kayannbee.bsky.social
a land of contrasts
Screenshot of two consecutive posts on Bluesky. The first is Cat Fitzpatrick saying "it is 1pm and today I have finished re-reading A/S/L and saved the life of a small bird #GoodDay." The second is by an art account named after Peter Paul Rubens, with the caption, "Alas, poor bird! It is #NationalCatDay as celebrated in 1939 by Pablo Picasso," sharing a Picasso painting of a cat ripping open a bird.
October 29, 2025 at 5:36 PM
kayannbee.bsky.social
“dronken and in the salt flod sonkyn“ Grow Up. ridiculous language
OED definition for “drink” as a verb, obsolete, meaning to drown. The example text is “Hadde I than be dronken, And in the salt flod sonkyn.” From a text called Seven Sages.
October 26, 2025 at 4:20 PM
kayannbee.bsky.social
I was always gonna die happy, but finally seeing Grizzly Bear is icing
October 19, 2025 at 4:09 PM
kayannbee.bsky.social
I have a tattoo of The Big Duck's antipodean cousin, the Chicken Church, in Indonesia, which left an instant and permanent spiritual mark on me
Ground view of the Gereja Ayam. A stained white church with a massive facade of a crowned dove, exulting, twice the height of the rest of the church
October 13, 2025 at 3:59 PM
kayannbee.bsky.social
Instagram ad that says “Warning: This is the first Tucking Jeans turly (sic) made for you.”
October 3, 2025 at 4:07 PM
kayannbee.bsky.social
>:)
I am holding Shadow Ticket by Thomas Pynchon in my hand!
October 2, 2025 at 7:49 PM
kayannbee.bsky.social
oh heyyy
Paperback copy of Gendertrash from Hell, edited by Mirha-Soleil Ross
October 1, 2025 at 3:59 PM
kayannbee.bsky.social
at the Isamu Noguchi Museum with @saraburke.net
September 27, 2025 at 7:25 PM
kayannbee.bsky.social
such a good book. what a shame Fran Ross only wrote the one!
Paperback copy of Oreo by Fran Ross
September 25, 2025 at 1:21 PM
kayannbee.bsky.social
CLR James on Melville (in this page, on Ahab) is awfully familiar
He is the most dangerous and destructive social type that has ever appeared in Western Civilization. For generations people believed that the men opposed to rights of ownership, production for the market, domination of money, etc. were socialists, communists, radicals of some sort united by the fact that they all thought in terms of the reorganization of society by the workers, the great majority of the oppressed, the exploited, the disin-herited. Some there were, of course, who believed that the experi-ment, if made, was bound to result in tyranny. Nobody, not a single soul, thought that in the managers, the superintendents, the execu-tives, the administrators would arise such loathing and bitterness against the society of free enterprise, the market and democracy, that they would try to reorganize it to suit themselves and, if need be, destroy civilization in the process. There are a number of writers, chiefly German, who have shown that they more or less understand the type. But there is not one ruler, foreign minister, state department representative or member of parliament, who, despite all the preparations for war yesterday against Nazism and today against Soviet imperialism, shows the slightest sign that he understands the enemy against whom he is preparing. It is the unique and solitary greatness of Melville that he saw and understood the type to the last degree and the relation to it of all other social types. How he was able to do this a hundred years ago, we shall also show but the first point is to understand the totalitarian type itself. Ahab is no common man. He has a fine brain and has had some education. He is a man of splendid physique, great courage, and a
September 17, 2025 at 12:02 AM