Blogagaard Feels Like Smacking Kafka Around a Little

The more Kafka I read, and the more I read about him, the more I think I really wouldn't have liked hanging around with him too much. Kafka had a thing about food, for instance, which caused him to over-masticate everything he ate, even yogurt, until his food became simply mush in his mouth before he swallowed anything. Even his family and closest friends couldn't stand him at the dinner table. I guess he was afraid of choking, or being too normal. Can you imagine trying to go out to eat and meet girls with a friend like that? He'd make the worst wingman, ever.

He also whined a lot about his "tyrannical" father, who often grabbed the domestic limelight Kafka wanted so badly for himself, yet allowed him to live at home for almost his entire forty year life. If I was friends with Kafka back then, I'd tell him to get the fuck over this father stuff and move on (unfortunately Freud was big around this time, straight outta Vienna). Then Kafka would probably stare off into the distance, or talk about how he could never sleep at night because he was so intensely driven and shit. Also, he spent almost as much time questioning his own worth as an artist as he did actually writing things. After a while such navel gazing really annoys me. So you might not be a great artist, or you're a great artist, who cares either way? Write if you want to write and stop tearing yourself up over it. We'll all be gone soon, anyway, so stop bitching, Kafka!