Lovely Crone with Claws

Kafka had problems with Prague, but a lot of other people did not, in fact, they really liked it.  I like it too.  It is more energetic if a bit grimmer.  This morning we went to the Kafka Museum and I think the students may have enjoyed it.  It is marvelously Informative about K's life, and it makes one much more sympathetic for the troubles he felt, real or imagined.  He was sensitive.  

Debbie and I argued about the panther at the end of The Hunger Artist.  She quoted Rilke a out how it was sad to see the panther caged, but I argued that K saw The Panther differently at the end of the story: it was a panther that was satisfied with his constriction because he got what he wanted.  K could not get what he wanted, like peace, quiet, and food that didn't hurt, but he keenly felt his limitations. He frequently mentions how it was hard to write because it was too noisy. Yes, yes, I say.  Thie constant noise is so distracting.  I feel so relaxed when I put in earplugs.  I feel so beaten about the head and shoulders by Muzak.  Debbie and I had a two Hour lunch at the Cafe Slavia, in which there was no music, only the low hum of conversation.  It was divinely civilized. 

On our walk home, we passed an institution that was labelled in Czech that we could not read, but it had a big red skull rotating and on top of it like some kind of strange macabre mobile.  It was actually funny because this is not the color of skulls and this is not what skulls do.  This is the essence of the Uncanny.  I enjoy the whimsy of this kind of uncanny.  However, there is the totally discombobulating uncanny.  As we walked through the Old Town Square, suddenly a woman shed her coat and posed in front of a lamppost.  A man, equally suddenly began photographing her with brisk intensity.  This unfolded so quickly because the woman was naked but for a little tiny corset.  It was so Not What Happens happening that it was utterly disorienting and only upon reflection did it become shocking.