KafkasPoet

Not seeking answers, just existing in the question.

[kafkaspoet]

Hello all, I will be posting my thoughts, my poetry, quotes and probably a smidge of ranting (it helps me sleep at night). If that is something you think you would like, feel free to lurk. :)

A little about me: I love reading, especially classics (russian, czech, ukranian, japanese, & french authors especially!). You may find me sitting on a rainy bench contemplating life, or walking through a barnes & noble while trying to look as mysterious as possible (when in reality im yearning for any form of human attention). its probable that at the very moment you are reading this im thinking about kafka, reading kafka, or dreaming about kafka.

Last Read: Osamu Dazai, Schoolgirl

Current Read: Valerie Solanas, Scum Manifesto

what im probably listening to

[kafkaspoet]

thought it was seasonal but now its summer and i feel the exact same

[kafkaspoet]

The two superior teas of the world

[bitesizedpoetry]

Sylvia Plath, aged 17, journal entry #4, from "The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath" (c. July 1950)

[whoznoah]

The agony of thinking you’re finished doing the dishes only to turn around and to your horror: the pot.

[kafkaspoet]

Osamu Dazai, Schoolgirl (1939)

[crimsonservbot]

You ever hear that old chestnut about how most people neglect the part of the story of Icarus where he also had to avoid flying too low, lest the spray of the sea soak his feathers and cause him to fall and drown? You ever think about how different the world would be if Icarus died that way instead? If the idiom was to Fly To Close To The Sea? A warning against playing it far too safe, about not stretching your wings and soaring properly? You ever think about how Icarus died because he was happy?

[kafkaspoet]

Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar (1963)

[kafkaspoet]

Albert Camus, The Stranger (1942)

[kafkaspoet]

I think the ability to listen to classical music while sitting on my bed crying as I eat a burger shows the duality of mankind.

[kafkaspoet]

its poetic, even.

[kafkaspoet]

I think the ability to listen to classical music while sitting on my bed crying as I eat a burger shows the duality of mankind.

[kafkaspoet]

“i never see you at the club” yeah well i never see you yearning in the early hours of the morning just as the sun begins to drape itself over the earth and the birds start humming gentle tunes of familiarity.

[kafkaspoet]

“why did men stop writing books about passion and yearning” they didnt. the only reason you only see books written by men be about crypto and finance is because thats what is being pushed by the media. do you think kafka and dostoyevsky were number one best sellers when they were alive? NO. they were writing in dark candlelit rooms, pen and ink, simply writing because that was what they were in essense; writers, poets! i bet you that right now there are hundreds of little prousts, camus’ and brontës sitting in their room writing compelling stories; not for money or fame, but for the simple reason that they natural poets and writers.

[kafkaspoet]

boy turn that clairo off and become a monk at the local monastery!

[kafkaspoet]

Oh to be a french man slowly losing himself to an insoluble case of nausea, depriving him of the passion he once had for his work, and leaving him devoid of feeling anything but fear and dissociation. sigh

[kafkaspoet]

“you dont understand kafka like i do”, i scream as they drag me back into the asylum.