Noel’s Reviews > Diaries, 1910-1923 > Status Update

It is entirely conceivable that life’s splendour forever lies in wait about each one of us in all its fullness, but veiled from view, deep down, invisible, far off. It is there, though, not hostile, not reluctant, not deaf. If you summon it by the right word, by its right name, it will come. This is the essence of magic, which does not create but summons.

I am a memory come alive, hence my insomnia.

Going to pieces. To go to pieces so pointlessly and unnecessarily.

Completely indifferent and apathetic. A well gone dry, water at an unattainable depth and no certainty it is there. Nothing, nothing. … What is there to tie me to a past or a future? The present is a phantom state for me; I don’t sit at the table but hover round it. Nothing, nothing. Emptiness, boredom, no, not boredom, merely emptiness, meaninglessness, weakness.

Incapable of living with people, of speaking. Complete immersion in myself, thinking of myself. Apathetic, witless, fearful. I have nothing to say to anyone – never.

Kafka’s diaries might honestly be my favorite thing I’ve ever read. In fact, “favorite” is understating it. This is a guidebook for life. It’s impact on me so far is comparable only to the first two volumes of In Search of Lost Time, the sum total of David Wojnarowicz’s writings, and Kafka’s own letters to Milena. Those three authors basically write the way I think, but especially Kafka.

I am more and more unable to think, to observe, to determine the truth of things, to remember, to speak, to share an experience; I am turning to stone, this is the truth.

(A lovely short sketch.)

I paced up and down my room from early morning unto twilight. The window was open, it was a warm day. The noise of the narrow street beat in uninterruptedly. By now I knew every trifle in the room from having looked at in the course of my pacing up and down. My eyes had travelled over every wall. I had pursued the pattern of the rug to its last convolution, noted every mark of age it

[…]

(Yet more quotes I have to save for my sanity:)

Only this everlasting waiting, eternal helplessness.