Search

kafkaestblog

It is a whirlwind in here

The Ghost Of Kafka Walks

The Ghost of Kafka walks

(not stalks)


The streets

Of Prague.


 Prague,

(The place he would/could

Never leave
Until the last

Half year of his life)

He described as:
“The little Mother has claws.”

Which she did.

For him.


He managed

(In the last half year of his life)
To escape to Berlin

During one of

The
Worst times

Anyone could live

In Berlin


Until the end of the

Second World War.

But

That was years

Away.


But he escaped

With a young

Lover,

Which made things

So much

Better.


But his Ghost only

Walks
The streets of

Prague


Whereas

Kafka’s Ghost

Stalks

The rest of

The World.


~ D. E. BA  U.E.

Featured post

Margaret Atwood Travels Further Than Ever – Blessed Be!

the-testaments_margaret-atwood_3

I have noted some folk looking at this post from a couple of years ago. I had put it up because of the success of the television series, A Handmaid’s Tale.

Now, Ms. Atwood has produced a new novel, The Testaments, [which, by the way, has a brilliant front and back cover] with an international launch from London, England. I can humbly state that my part in her literary life remains the same.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was not my intent to piss off Margaret Atwood.

The opposite, in fact. I wanted her to know she was an inspiration.

She was giving a reading at the University of New Brunswick in my student days. I attended, but there was quite the gathering and she was whisked away at the end. However, I overheard there was a ‘gathering’ in her honour. Invitation only, of course. Academia and literati.

I crashed the party (that was the term used by the professor who clapped his sturdy hand upon my shoulder but – happily – did not thrust me into the night).

But Ms. Atwood was kept deep in many a learned conversation and I had no opportunity to converse. I did, however, overhear where she would be spending next afternoon – the historic University Observatory.

Next day I knocked upon the Observatory door.

It was not a cheerful Margaret Atwood who answered, and answered with alacrity.

She asked my name.

She asked my business.

And she asked how the hell I knew where she was. She had stolen the day to do some writing. Some ‘real’ writing, in this window-of-opportunity grudgingly offered on the book tour.

At least I was there to praise Atwood and not to bury her with some essay question.

Nor had I a manuscript to hand to her.

I might not have garnered a smile, but her curt thank you was reward enough.

For me, at least.

Featured post

Happy Birthday To Me / Hippo Bird Day Two Ewes

 

happy-birthday-1-728

There will be scampi on a plate with breakfast for my birthday.

     Quarts of wild strawberries will float in flagons of cold Rhinish wine. Blueberries will be hidden by thick cream, and golden honey shall trickle from plates of buttered toast. Braces of quail and brown roasted turkey will be surrounded by steaming heaps of new potatoes and tender ears of corn. Joints of beef and lightly curried lamb will stand between bottles of red Anjou wine and jugs of red Italian fire.

     A smoking, suckling pig will have bowls of dry, yellow squash at its feet and stacks of cheeses at its head. Pastry and pies and a foot high chocolate cake will stand among jars of brandied fruit. A cask of aged port will remain, to do justice at the end.

     Then I shall settle back to patiently await my dinner.

[Image] https://image.slidesharecdn.com/brthdy-1225815250925041-9/95/happy-birthday-1-728.jpg?cb=1225786507

The Slow Curved Moradia Eel on Twitter

“The Slow Curved Moradia Eel”
Is the answer
I gave
To one of those
Constant,
Inane,
Questions
That pop up
So often
In my
Twitter feed.
 
The question was:
“What sea creature do you find the most fascinating?”
 
Now
My true answer
Would
Have been
A
Seahorse
 
But
Really
My answer was more
To the insufferable
Stream
Of time-filling
Questions
Posted
Solely
To waste time
 
(And, probably
Glean information
For some advertising
Algorithm
I can’t even
Fathom.)
So – I made up a sea creature
Sue me!
Oh, dear
Oh – Dear!
Someone just
Asked:
“If you could hang out
with any cartoon character,
who would you choose
and why?”
 
Oh, oh, Dear!
 
Lemme think.
 
Algernon
The punk-haired
Tuba.
 
That should blow
All those inquisitive
Algorithms
To Hell.
 
[BTW]
The slow curved moradia eel”
Got
A
*like*.
 
D.E BA U.E.L
[Image – real eel]   static6.depositphotos.com/1075116/574/i/950/depositphotos_5748956-stock-photo-spotted-snake-eel-at-the.jpg

Take a sip – or two:  Know Your Amari – The ONLY Way to Finish an Italian Meal

Source: Know Your Amari – The ONLY Way to Finish an Italian Meal

Out in the woods. Wood Farm: The Royal Family’s secret home at Sandringham — Royal Central

Buckingham Palace announced The Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh will cut their summer break short in Balmoral to spend time at the Sandringham Estate in Norfolk starting on Monday. A palace spokesperson said in a statement: “Subject to the finalisation of the autumn programme, Her Majesty’s intention is to return to Windsor Castle in…

Wood Farm: The Royal Family’s secret home at Sandringham — Royal Central

The Cruise Ship And The Bride’s House

I once lived in a mansion that even had its own ornate wooden sign; “The Bride’s House”. The house was built in the time of Queen Victoria and had an unique history (sometimes disputed)..
In those day,s the riverfront land was the location of a shipbuilding industry.. The daughter of the shipbuilder was getting married. As a wedding present, the father built The Bride’s House. In those days, new ships were built within tall wooden fencing, so competitors could not see the type of ship being constructed. Thus, it was assumed that a ship was being built. A wonderful surprise was revealed to the bride and groom when the fencing was removed after the wedding.
Sounds good to me.
Regardless, it is a very fancy mansion/house, and proved so to be by the international tourist industry. To my surprise.
One summer, I started to notice small buses stopping at the mouth of the driveway, just a few steps from the ornate wooden sign. They would stop for about five minutes, and then be on their way. Odd behaviour, and irregular. They generally came at the same time, early afternoon. And, there were odd lights coming from the interior of the buses.
Over the course of a couple of weeks, I realized the buses.were part of the tours that passengers on cruise ships were offered, when their ship came into port for a day. There was a seaport a half hour away.
Looking at a web site or two, I saw various sightseeing trips were offered, generally for no more than an hour distant from the port itself.If passengers didn’t want to tramp around the city,they could see some of the local sites. The Bride’s House fell into one of those tours..
This explained the odd irregularity of the buses, yet their consistent times of visit. The odd lights from inside the buses were folk taking photos. However The Bride’s House was not interesting/important enough to let them off the bus.
I confess, I sometimes made a point to be outside in the garden when the tour buses made their stop. I was diligently nonchalant in my activities, though I did wave a couple of times.. I could see no response through the tinted windows. But, I did wonder then – and I do wonder now – how far-flung some photographs of myself might have traveled. And did my cheery appearance  garner any comments.
(image) https:www.busesforsale.com/assets/images/catthumbs/activity-buses-for-sale.jpg

Summer Ends For Kafka

(Kafka & Ottla in Zürau)

In Kafka In The Castle I fill in the missing diaries of Franz Kafka. Here, Kafka learns of the tuberculosis that will eventually kill him. He gets to have ‘time off’ from his job at The WorkersAccident Insurance Institute for the Kingdom of Bohemia in Prague, and also to escape his day-to-day life. He plans a vacation with his sister Ottla in a village some distance from Prague.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

06 September 1917
Even though I wait for the summer to be over, I am always surprised by the abrupt transition.

One Wednesday it can be uncomfortable to walk the streets in the afternoon, but on the weekend it seems I should put the windows down at night. Now, I have these other desired passages thrust suddenly upon me, but for all my longing I am woefully unprepared.

I am back in my parent’s apartment, but it is only for another week. Then, I am going to Zureau to be with Ottla.
I have been granted three months leave from the Institute. The Director is most concerned about my state, and speaks of my invaluable contributions. He seems to mean it. Would not hear talk of my resignation.
So, I get to follow Ottla out of Prague – almost with carte blanche.

And there is nothing more to be done with Felice. I may have written her my last letter. What good is a tubercular for a husband? But – to be with Ottla.

To be out of Prague.

To get away from Prague!

[Image] https://i.redd.it/b5admh9jpag11.jpg

The Bee Prepares For Death

bumblebee

An anxious companion called to me,
As I was sitting out in the yard,
That a bee had
Settled on my leg.
 
So be it.
 
Bees will usually,
Quickly fly,
When they realise they
Are not on a flower.
 
This one did not.
 
So, I assumed that there
Was something wrong
With the bee.
 
It was not just languid from the heat
‘Cause it wasn’t that hot.
 
The longer the bee stayed,
The more concerned I became.
 
Not really knowing
The ins and outs of bees
Heading for their demise.
 
Except, that they usually fall
In Service
While heading toward,
Or away,
From their hive.
 
I thought a languid/dying bee
Might take some sort of affront,
Or take one last stand
At life,
And make a defensive move
Of stinging whatever
Was nearest it.
 
So I kicked out
My leg.
 
The bee moved through
A gentle arc,
Caused by my propulsion,
And its own feeble
Attempt at flight.
 
It landed in the taller grass
On the verge of the lawn,
And,
I suspect,
It did not
Move again.
 
D.E. BA U.E.

Stalking Deer Without A Deerstalker Hat

I thought this was a nifty title because (in some things) I am easily pleased. But I thought I had better get my facts straight about a deerstalker hat (’cause I only really had an image in mind). And I realized that that image was from Sherlock Holmes but, along the way, I found out that Holmes is never described as wearing a deerstalker hat, but that it was the device of an illustrator to his stories. So.
And, to be exact: The deerstalker is a fabric cap with a front and back peak and side earlaps which can be tied up atop the hat or worn down. The purpose of the dual peaks was to protect both the face and the back of the neck from the sun during long periods outside
We can be sure I was NOT wearing such a thing.
 
But the deer are real.
 
I had started down a hill toward a long copse of trees when I saw two fawns quite a distance before me. One bounded into a field but the other stayed on the road. It had to be an optical trick of perspective, but the fawn on the road seemed to be no taller than my knees. It followed the first fawn, but I waited because I was sure there would be a mother deer close by. And, in a couple of minutes, one wandered into view. Now, they had all given me a long once-over, but I didn’t move, so they all went their way. I eventually continued down the hill and along the road.
 
The road turned and I went with it. In a minute I saw all three across a field in the distance. The two fawns appeared to be grazing, but the mother certainly saw me. She stood stock-still and I did the same.
At a guess, we stayed this way for six or seven minutes. That is a long time to stand (for me) but I was in no rush..  The fawns were oblivious to me, but mother deerest did not take so kindly to such constant intrusion. She moved until she was out of my sight line, and then started to cough. Cough and wheeze at the same time. It was an exaggerated call, which the two offspring were ignoring. Their grub must have been good.
 
So I stayed, unmoving, for another few minutes, while the mother deer made this strange (to my ears) noise another half dozen times. Whether by this prompting, or by finally having enough of a feed, the fawns languidly made their way toward her. Soon, all were hidden by the trees.
 
I was relieved to continue on my way.
(image) https//:www.oldmission.net/wp-content/uploads/2019/07/deer-and-fawns-1020-1.jpg

The World’s Worst Bar

bar-neon-sign-4-3284-p
The World’s Worst Bar,
Absolutely
The worst,
In the world.
 
Indeed,
The whole world.
 
Indeed,
In all of
Christendom.
Which
Is more than the world,
If you are a believer
In The Christ,
And
Accept
He goes
Beyond the world.
 
The world’s worst bar
Smells of
Formaldehyde,
(and those are the pricey drinks).
 
And
You don’t really want
To know
What those
Snacks are
In those
Suspicious
Glass jars,
Particularly
The snacks
Floating in
Some sort of
Murky fluid.
 
Tasty – maybe –
But.
 
Highballs are kinda
Too high,
And martinis
Strep your throat.
 
And the wine
Well…
You would be
looking around,
Hoping to see Jesus,
Doing His thing
With
A bucket of
Water.
 
D.E. BA U.E
03092020

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑