Status Updates From Päiväkirjat 1909-1923

⋆ pre-read: I’m so ready to develop a parasocial relationship with a dead man ♡ ⋆

➵ started: 10/1/26

Weird to go from the in between state of Kafka's unpublished work (mostly finished, with some important context and details on translation (& its history) in the foreword, and obvious fragmentation elsewhere) to the truly open and unfinished state of his diaries. Interesting to follow his thought process between drafts--seems very stream of consciousness.

So annoying to read, spaced out cut off random thoughts, parts of stories/imaginings, part first person part second person part third person

Around page 150.
The diary now feels like groundwork. Less emotional shock, more pattern: family, theater, friends, repetition. I’m starting to see how Kafka is being shaped before the work fully arrives.

About 100 pages in.
I’m surprised to be enjoying Kafka’s diary more than I expected. He’s writing more, still tired and restless, but also moving through the world, watching plays, wandering at night, recording strange and sometimes unintentionally funny moments. What I like most is the contrast between his chaotic inner life and how clearly he can write for work. These pages feel less heavy and more alive.

50 pages in.
Reading Kafka’s diary feels less like reading and more like standing close to someone else’s pain. His loneliness is easy to feel, and so is how much he ties his worth to writing. When the words don’t come, he turns against himself. Some entries feel like a closed loop: I can’t write. I am worthless. I must write. I can’t write. He punishes himself in advance so reality doesn’t have to.

Book ten is heavy. Why does reading about how someone else really feels about themselves hurt so much?

"At last I have the word ‘stigmatize’ and the sentence that goes with it, but still hold everything in my mouth with a feeling of disgust and shame as if it were raw meat, cut out of my own flesh (so much effort has it cost me)"

14th (August 1913) “ The opposite has occurred. Three letters arrived. The last one I couldn’t resist. I love her, as far as I am capable of it but this love lies buried to the point of suffocation under fear and self reproaches.)
A perfect example of needing to ignore your fears of not being good enough and believe that you can be happy.

"19 june, 1910
slept, woke up, slept, woke up, miserable life"