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29 August 1917: Kafka Walks A Dark Bridge And Ponders The Sea

In Kafka In The Castle, I fill in the ‘missing’ diary entries from Kafka’s real diary. He either did not fill in these days himself, or he destroyed them. There are some estimates that Kafka destroyed 70% – 80% of everything he wrote.

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29 August 1917

I strolled the Charles Bridge a long time tonight, before coming on to the castle. I have the feeling that the river air helps my lungs. I also like the city lights reflecting from the racing water. And the occasional boat, lanterns stern and bow. I have once or twice steered my own boat through the dark, the flickering light dripping through the gloom before me. If I could have reached the sea while it was still dark, I would have tried to do so. But I was younger then. And could breathe deeply. Fantasy fuelled this escape, from my Moldau island and then along the Elbe, through Dresden, Magdeburg and Hamburg, to the freedom of Helgoland Bay. Further into the North Sea, if I wanted. Perhaps to Iceland, where I could become lost in the snow and white. All this, from my perch upon the Charles Bridge, as I strolled from side to side, and one end to the other. My last smile reserved for the statues staring down on me. Their stony expressions etched upon their faces, as are mine to me.
DE

08/29/2023 0

28 August 1917 Kafka Is His Own Invention And Not His Father’s Product

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28 August 1917

I avoid my parent’s apartment, and as yet they notice nothing from the ordinary. Actually, I think my father’s fervent wish would be to find something ordinary. Something he could understand. Such as sickness and death. His gratitude at this understanding would not, I think, even be unkind. The Director, however, notices things only too well. He came to my desk – an unusual activity – again today, asking after my cough, which proves futile to hide after any length of conversation. His concern is genuine – he has always shown me the utmost kindness – and goes beyond the conventional interest in a valued employee. How radically different my life would have been had such consideration ever been shown by my father.

I don’t mean I think of the Director as a father – we rarely see each other outside the confines of the Institute. And anyway, I am as much my own invention as I am my father’s product. How quickly I point my finger to others about my woes; how quickly I drop my hand when I’m faced with a mirror.

08/28/2023 0

Wagner And Putin Walk Into A Bar / Then History Takes A Turn

~ I’m singing at your funeral, Putty.
~ I made you what you are.
~ Götterdämmerung, baby.
~ You are my creature!
~ Always be afraid of Frankenstein.
~ I made you, and I can destroy you.
~ That’s what they all say.
~ You were my cook, for God’s sake.
~ So I know about blood and guts.

~ You are such a little man.
~ I wouldn’t throw stones over that, Putty.
~ I’ll crush you!
~ With what? I’m the only army you really have.
~ You were just here to get Ukraine.
~ Ukraine is lost. *Your* army saw to that.
~ I am the new Tsar of All The Russias.
~ I’ll give you some time, Putty, to get out.
~To where?”
~ Don’ know. Don’t care.

До свидания! / Do svidaniya!

D UEL

08/27/2023 0

27 August 1917 Kafka Take His Leave

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27 August 1917

Max has arranged for me to see a specialist a week from tomorrow. My protestations are necessarily weak, since it is an effort not to cough during most of our conversations. Even my breathing proves to be more difficult. Perhaps some treatment or some medicine can be found. Some palliative. With luck a cure – the cure? – will be to get me out of Prague. Even if Prague had grand entrance gates, and I lived just on the other side – had my cot in the dust just an arms length from the wall – I could sleep easily. Even without a mattress on the springs.

As it is, I have no use for the furniture, so I may as well be rid of it. There is no need or place for it in my apartment, and Ottla has expressed no interest. Or even curiosity . A solution – and the one which was done next door – is just to leave everything. I suspect, in this day and age, the people who really have to live in this type of house, will find a use for it. Even the bamboo pieces. I think I’ll keep the lamp.

08/27/2023 0

26 August 1917 “The Kindest Refuge” from “Kafka In The Castle”

26 August 1917

My last Sunday in this tiny house. All those months passed since I needed to be cautious about Ottla. This tiny house on Alchemist Lane has been the kindest refuge. And I have not quite outstayed my welcome. The lamp is friendly across the floor, the sweep of the Stag Moat beckons at my back. Even now its breezes cool in the warmth of this late summer night. The light from my desk brushes against the leaves of the trees as I peer past the reflections and the shadows. Tonight, some of the old magic lingers, smiling from the darkened corners. I will lose myself to it – tip back my chair and let the comfort ease itself across my well-swept floor.

I will close my eyes, and let it still even my memories.

08/26/2023 0

“Kafka Moves On” from “Kafka In The Castle “

24 August 1917

When change comes into life, it never seems to come alone. Are we pawns in this, or are we the hand moving the pieces across the board? Max arranges for me to see a specialist, where there will be more probing, more questions, and more X-Rays. I find it repulsive – though admittedly fascinating – to see my own interior. And when the word tuberculosis is finally spoken – even by Max – then I can go on to some rest. Some release. Escape for a time from the Institute – perhaps be allowed to resign. And then – a trip out of Prague, to the mountains or to the see. Maybe stay with Ottla for a few weeks.

Autumn in the country can be very nice; I could even help her with the harvest. Give worth to my freedom. And while I am leaping from my past life, I’ll mail another letter to Felice. What is the use of an engagement now?

08/25/2023 0

Paw, The Cat/Kitten, Does Not Mean To Kill The Li’l Bird

I was sitting on my porch
Humble enough,
At my Lighthouse Keeper’s house,
When Paw, the cat/kitten,
Black as a raven
With one white mitten,
Started playing with a flock
Of little birds.
They were in the bushes,
Flitting from branch to branch
Up and down and over.
He tried to catch one
And then another
And then an another
And then –

He succeeded.
He stood over the bird
Pushed it with his paw,
Sniffed at it,

Then came tearing over to me.
He snagged my pant leg
And pulled.
“Come come come” was in his meows,
So, I did.
The sea breeze ruffled the bird’s feathers
But
There was more movement than that.
I picked up the tiny bird,
Touched its breast,
Felt the trembling heart,
Saw its beak open and close,
And just held it closer to the sun.
It stirred, and stood, and wobbled
And gasped open its eyes
And started to fly
Before it stood.
Right back to the other li’l birds.
Paw slept by my feet
The rest of the day.

{I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2023 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

DE BA. UEL

08/24/2023 0

A Feast Nor’ By Nor’west To Satisfy Partridge Island

Yesterday, a departing fishing boat
Left a letter on my dock,
At Partridge Island.
The letter told me to be standing here,
On this beach, looking toward shore
At exactly 2:30.
And to bring my telescope.
Which I have done.
Dutiful as I am.
And . . .

Well . . .
I’m sure glad there is no fog.
After opening my telescope
And putting it to my eye,
And focusing,
I spy
With my little eye,
Sister Darling of the
Rarefied Church of the World (reformed)
Wearing a long cloak
To her ankles.
And, upon opening it,
Revealing that she
Had decided
To wear nothing else.
Oh! Hallelujah! Yes!

{I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2023 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

DE BA. UEL

08/10/2023 0

“Zellers” In “The Hudson’s Bay” In Canada

I went for a shopping spree at Zellers

Of course, it has been around forty years since there was an independent Zellers store. I used to go to the one on Queen St. in Fredericton. You could enter on Queen St, and walk a whole block to exit it on to King St. It even had the first escalator in the city. So, being in a Zellers in a Hudson’s Bay store really wasn’t the same. For one thing, there was no cafeteria. I set a whole novel around the cafeteria in Zellers. I guess I won’t be doing that again.

But, I gotta tell you, I swear I was served by a sales associate (clerk) whose last job was in Fredericton.

She was the right age (60 to beyond): the right look (mid-tone frumpy fashionista): and accessorized with plump fake pearls and robustly applied makeup.

She happily took me to the places where I might find the items I could not find (like slippers) and we still didn’t find them.

Then back to the Cash, where I prepared to pay with $$$ bills. She asked if I might want to sign up for a card or two (or three). I said ‘no’, and that I didn’t want to waste her time. She opined that I wasn’t wasting her time, she was attempting to fill it.

So, I felt encouraged to engage her in conversation – which was really to let her roll on. There were not a lot of customers, and there was a noticeable lack of items. When I asked how Zellers fit in at Hudson’s Bay, she said that it really wasn’t independent, it wasn’t even a department. It was classed as “a Kiosk”.

SIGH

DE UEL

08/05/2023 0

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It is a whirlwind in here

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