"There is a tremendous amount of hope, but not for us."
Franz Kafka
Franz Kafka
For several years now my unfortunately numerous encounters with the ill-literature of the big man Franz himself have been leading me to a suspicion which has been confirmed by the above statment: Kafka was a coffee drinker. All evidence, in fact, seems to point to the unwavering truth that he was quite an avid one.
I know this because I too, partake in the Water of Health and Beauty on a daily basis. Though I shudder to the umpteenth degree when I think upon the following proclamation (anyone who's read 'A Country Doctor' will understand. If anyone tries to foist it upon you, I suggest you do you best to injure them and then book it to the border as fast as you can), but I must admit it: We, Kafka and I, have got something in common and that something is called Black Gold. It is the liquid link, which breaches geography and history binding 20th century Czech Kafka to 21st century American me.
You see, coffee does something quite magical. It seeps into your morning-drowsy brain, an organ which quite understandably resists being dragged by a smelly fish net from the crystalline waters of paradisaical slumber, and gives your brain a much needed beam of hope. Hope then tells your brain, "Yes, you can ol' Brainy Boy. Together, you and coffee can make it thorough the next twelve hours."
So, what then, comes to pass on mornings when you awake only to realize that you've forgotten to go to the store and replenish the vital fortifications which only just ran dry on the previous day? On those mornings when there are absolutely no grounds shaking around the bottom of the coffee can? Well, on those mornings, you realize that there is a tremendous amount of hope out there in the cosmos. There is a tremendous amount of hope out there for all those other insouciant, coffee slurping individuals. But there is no hope at all for you.
And that moment you realize that you should never, never go coffeeless, lest you begin producing linguistic atrocities in the vein of Kafka, who appears to have suffered a great many years from a lack of coffee.
Comments? Questions? Are you a 30-something living in an inner city Prague basement with you parents and no coffee? We want to hear what you think. Share your thoughts with us at 1-800-GregorSamsaliveson or on the web @ www.gregorthebeetle.gov
I know this because I too, partake in the Water of Health and Beauty on a daily basis. Though I shudder to the umpteenth degree when I think upon the following proclamation (anyone who's read 'A Country Doctor' will understand. If anyone tries to foist it upon you, I suggest you do you best to injure them and then book it to the border as fast as you can), but I must admit it: We, Kafka and I, have got something in common and that something is called Black Gold. It is the liquid link, which breaches geography and history binding 20th century Czech Kafka to 21st century American me.
You see, coffee does something quite magical. It seeps into your morning-drowsy brain, an organ which quite understandably resists being dragged by a smelly fish net from the crystalline waters of paradisaical slumber, and gives your brain a much needed beam of hope. Hope then tells your brain, "Yes, you can ol' Brainy Boy. Together, you and coffee can make it thorough the next twelve hours."
So, what then, comes to pass on mornings when you awake only to realize that you've forgotten to go to the store and replenish the vital fortifications which only just ran dry on the previous day? On those mornings when there are absolutely no grounds shaking around the bottom of the coffee can? Well, on those mornings, you realize that there is a tremendous amount of hope out there in the cosmos. There is a tremendous amount of hope out there for all those other insouciant, coffee slurping individuals. But there is no hope at all for you.
And that moment you realize that you should never, never go coffeeless, lest you begin producing linguistic atrocities in the vein of Kafka, who appears to have suffered a great many years from a lack of coffee.
Comments? Questions? Are you a 30-something living in an inner city Prague basement with you parents and no coffee? We want to hear what you think. Share your thoughts with us at 1-800-GregorSamsaliveson or on the web @ www.gregorthebeetle.gov
