Kirsten

@k-a-aitch

Brain full of spiders, garlic in her soul. Barbie Nine-Jobs.

208 Folgt1.230 Follower9.857 Posts

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Kirsten@k-a-aitch· 26d

Smog is gone, time to catch a few evening sunbeams

My ridiculous cat in his little safety vest lounging in a sunbeam near an old stone wall

Kirsten@k-a-aitch· 29d

Bender from Futurama serving his friends a dinner he made and saying "you guys like swarms of things, right?"

Kirsten@k-a-aitch· Jul 10

Fair enough, Chancleta

my above skeets, with an image of the famous cat Chancleta below, with the warning:
"Chancleta has seen how you live your life.
he has concerns."

Kirsten@k-a-aitch· Jul 4

American Icon Nadine Hurley

"I was up all last night. Do you know what I was doing? I was inventing a noiseless, completely silent drape runner."

Kirsten@k-a-aitch· Jul 3

The indignities I suffer so this doofus can spend another couple hours staring at a wall

Mu the Cat in a little orange safety harness, on a leash, staring at a partially crumbling brick foundation.

Kirsten@k-a-aitch· Jul 3

I call this The Bearded Dragon

a pale bearded dragon, basking, with its mouth open

Kirsten@k-a-aitch· Jun 28

After some 400 pages, he can’t say. “If you truly believe human beings everywhere are just as important as those closest to you, then global injustice might start to feel unbearable,” he writes early on. “You may even become willing to sacrifice yourself—or your family—to help people on the other side of the world.” As the subject of that sacrifice, Ayers Dohrn is trapped between two possibilities: the first is that none of it was worth it, that his parents were monsters who defaced his childhood for nothing. The second is that it was all worth it, that his birth did not herald the beginning of his parents’ world, and that his life was not the central fact of theirs. Of course both possibilities are unbearable. Thus his ambivalence.

Kirsten@k-a-aitch· Jun 28

I was going to hit you with this, but this is not that

Like Steven Spielberg, director of such films as Always and 1941.

Kirsten@k-a-aitch· Jun 28

*sighs deeply during your performance review*

Cat looking comfortable but somehow mildly put out while sleeping on a rocking chair

Kirsten@k-a-aitch· Jun 26

Grampa Simpson pointing at things around the house and screaming that they're Death, only here he imagines them as New Punk

Kirsten@k-a-aitch· Jun 25

Doesn't he look like he could be Michael York's older brother? But imagine that, naming two sons Michael. Simply not done.

Michael York, looking breezy and unbothered

Kirsten@k-a-aitch· Jun 23

The Duras sisters from Star Trek, looking scornful

Kirsten@k-a-aitch· Jun 20

I'll never forget this utterly vibrant, beloved and cheerful mother, along with her darling children, time traveling to the 21st century and beyond

Portrait Bust of Madame Houdon by Jean-Antoine Houdon

Kirsten@k-a-aitch· Jun 20

These girls still follow me in my memory

Two Laughing Girls (1880) by Pere Borrell del Caso

They're gazing directly at us, pointing and reaching out at us, the blond girl in green smiling while her elbow is hanging over the edge of the "oval portrait." They are utterly captivating, natural and vivid, caught in a camera-like moment of mirth and silliness

Kirsten@k-a-aitch· Jun 20

Mr. Roth teeing it right the fuck up

If everyone in the United States weren't living downstream from its consequences, it would be a pretty good tragic flaw that Donald Trump wants more than anything to be seen as a brilliant man who has always been right about everything when he is transparently a butterfingered dunce whose professional expertise more or less begins and ends at making cutting remarks from a safe distance and directing other people to file nuisance lawsuits on his behalf. If assessed from a sufficient remove, the spread between the opening proposition—the man who knows more about every subject than any expert without even having to study or even pay attention to any of it, because he is just that much of a natural talent—and the relentlessly oafish output is a great bit, if admittedly also a bit one-note.

Kirsten@k-a-aitch· Jun 17

Our lady's got 3-4 hungry hatchlings to feed, been finding flies and birdseed all day to barf up for them. Time to put them to bed and wait for your red-ass husband to come home with some moths, have a civilized dinner.

A female cardinal sitting on her nest, perched on a wire mesh supporting a mess of hardy kiwi vines

Kirsten@k-a-aitch· Jun 17

My cat mu usually has Resting "Do You Think This Is a Fucking Game?" Face, except on Christmas morning, when he's excited that Santa came

Cat wants a lap, and he won't go away until he gets it

Sleepy cat still looking mildly put out about it

Cute cat, sitting on some puzzle pieces in a box and asking if I feel lucky

My cat finally looking cute and happy and not like a disappointed theater critic (Christmas presents in the background)

Kirsten@k-a-aitch· Jun 11

I am 44 years old

My very own rather tattered and lightly bleach-stained $11 Navy Blue towel I've had since college

Kirsten@k-a-aitch· Jun 4

This Edward Gorey calendar never fails to deliver

June's illustration: a bleak seaside landscape of one lonely pier and three pale-haired children gazing on some dark, hoary varmint, about the size of a small dog, flopped over the edge of the pier and gazing back at them. The caption reads simply "The creature regarded them Balefully."

Kirsten@k-a-aitch· May 28

Sunset says trans is beautiful

A beautiful blue and pink sunset with a pale white nearly full moon, pine trees, a power line, and the peak of a housetop in the foreground

Kirsten@k-a-aitch· May 25

I said it before, and I'll say it again: Copy editing is a rare delight.

*if skullduggery >= 40
#I just lie my head off about how awful the Dormouse Society is, just making up wild claims about how wretched their establishment is.
"You know," you say, casually. "I am surprised that the Dormouse Society is even accepting new members at this time. But then, I suppose the quarantine has been technically lifted."

"Quarantine?" says Mr. Turquoise, flipping his silver coin with concern.

"Oh, yes," you say, over howled protest from Pipsy and an "I say!" from Tristram. "They had a terrible outbreak of what is colloquially called 'gravedigger's mouth,' but is more properly known as the 'gray drips.' I don't know the Latin name for it, but I do know it is caused by a sort of fungus that itself has become infected by a virus. Nasty stuff. They all had it. I hear it lingers in the air for four to six months, but it typically begins its spread through intimate contact. They all had, every one of them."

"Hmm," says Vyv. "I don't know if…"

Mr. Turquoise flips his silver dollar very high in disgust.

Kirsten@k-a-aitch· May 23

Kirsten@k-a-aitch· May 21

Taking a break from being outside to dream about being outside

Kirsten@k-a-aitch· May 20

Editors didn't believe my partner when he tried to introduce a Polytron to his Evil Empire Consortium

Ad for the Polytron, boasting the transformation of an entire mouse to a soup-like homogenate in 30 seconds

Kirsten@k-a-aitch· May 17

"ThErE aRe BeNcHeS aVaIlAbLe In ThE aMtRaK tIcKeT hOlDeR's NoOk"

mocking, bird-like Spongebob, enemy to hostile architecture everywhere

Kirsten@k-a-aitch· May 16

Friendly neighborhood assassin bug, inspecting my editing work

A young pale green assassin bug crawling on my laptop screen outdoors

Kirsten@k-a-aitch· May 14

G-Ball sold a dog for $80k with a grade 3 heart murmur and it can't produce semen And he won't refund the money Luke 16:1-13

Kirsten@k-a-aitch· May 11

Fargoth from Morrowind in front of a silt strider

Kirsten@k-a-aitch· May 9