What To Do With The Sock After Masterbation

few steps in the Journal of K


strange state of mind after summer vacation: several nights in a row, all the books I can get my hands. Discouraged, I finally chosen to walk randomly in the Journal Kafka, and a few sentences, simple and beautiful, finally have the strength to withhold, stir me:

When I say something, that thing immediately loses its importance and finally, when I note, she still loses, but wins sometimes another.
(July 3, 1913)

The effect produced by a peaceful face, by about calm, especially when they come from a foreign person that has not yet penetrated. God's voice coming out of a human mouth.
(December 20, 1913)

Go, opens up. That the human kind. Aspire
air and silence.
(July 13, 1916)

Many other things, a lot more painful, which I have not had the desire to dwell.

Career Versus Relationship

books at the water's edge


Last year, I literally fell in love with Banyuls. From a small white house bohemian charm, perched on a rock beside the Mediterranean, where it has been kind enough to welcome me, and again this year ... A week to contemplate the sea, sleeping, hanging out, daydreaming, free internet access and in good company: I bring The Last watchman Britain Philippe Le Guillou (on his meetings with Gracq in Saint-Florent-le -Old), a gift from S. and The Art of the novel by Virginia Woolf , offered by A.
In Virginia, I've read a few pages, and here is a passage that made me smile while giving me thinking:

Most novelists have had this experience. Some Brown or Smith or Jones appears and tells them the most seductive, the most charming of the world: "Catch Me If You Can." Led by the wisp, they wade in volume by volume, spend the best years of their lives to this pursuit and generally receive very little money in return. Few catch the ghost, most of them must be satisfied a fragment of her dress or a lock of her hair.

Is this a way of saying the illusion of otherness that creates the fictional character from the person you'd think the least receptive to romantic illusion, that is to say, the novelist himself ?

Oh, I forgot the perfect holiday soundtrack, Lay Your Head Down (In My Arms) Keren Ann ...