I confess, I haven't tied the loose ends of that Kant post yet. Nor the essay. Everytime I think of it, waves comes forth and drive me away.
In the meantime, some links I'm adding:
The Diaries of Franz Kafka
Can you believe it? Someone by the name of Paul Kerschen is translating Kafka's diaries, day by day. I am the luckiest soul in the world.
Bowling Ball
Like a beautiful flower that blooms once every two years and then withers, Guy has started a new blog. It seems lighter and happier than his previous forays. I wonder if he will enlighten us as to the origin of its title?
Charlotte Street
Yes I know everyone else already knows about Charlotte Street. But it is most reliably thoughtful and engaging, so it is high time that it went on my little list also.
Yesterday I made the mistake of sleeping in while News Radio played loudly in my bedroom - broadcasting the proceedings in Federal Parliament. I consequently had vivid dreams about being psychoanalysed by Phillip Ruddock, in which he showed me how all my failings come from my reading of Kafka. (How cruel of my unconscious to get so 'meta' on me - I was actually being psychoanalysed while still dreaming.)
Thought for the day: "Beauty's where you find it, not just where you bump and grind it." Such desperation and pathos within lines that mean, as far as I can see, absolutely nothing.
In the meantime, some links I'm adding:
The Diaries of Franz Kafka
Can you believe it? Someone by the name of Paul Kerschen is translating Kafka's diaries, day by day. I am the luckiest soul in the world.
Bowling Ball
Like a beautiful flower that blooms once every two years and then withers, Guy has started a new blog. It seems lighter and happier than his previous forays. I wonder if he will enlighten us as to the origin of its title?
Charlotte Street
Yes I know everyone else already knows about Charlotte Street. But it is most reliably thoughtful and engaging, so it is high time that it went on my little list also.
Yesterday I made the mistake of sleeping in while News Radio played loudly in my bedroom - broadcasting the proceedings in Federal Parliament. I consequently had vivid dreams about being psychoanalysed by Phillip Ruddock, in which he showed me how all my failings come from my reading of Kafka. (How cruel of my unconscious to get so 'meta' on me - I was actually being psychoanalysed while still dreaming.)
Thought for the day: "Beauty's where you find it, not just where you bump and grind it." Such desperation and pathos within lines that mean, as far as I can see, absolutely nothing.
3 Comments:
Haven't Kafka's diaries already been translated (and his love letters, in separate volumes)?
Yes they have been, but Paul Kerschen is re-translating them and (the important bit) publishing them in a serialised, blog form. He states his reasons for doing so here: http://www.metameat.net/kafka/about.php?en
Bowling Ball? in the gutter? looking at the stars?
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