struggling against quicksand with Kafka

my attempt to write an update kind of post

A place between heaven and hell.

A divine court house waiting room.

The part of the baggage claim conveyer belt you do not see.

My hot mushrooms draft document for the past two months, half-written posts trying to pithily report on the Kafkaesque task of finding a flat in Berlin.

Hey, who do you suppose Kafka referenced when he wanted to describe something Kafkaesque?

In a diary entry from 1922 Kafka wrote, ‘Sisyphus was a bachelor.’

Speaking of Sisyphus…

A field full of ash-dead people and ash-grey flowers. The Fields of Asphodel. And on your right you’ll see Sisyphus and his eternally rolling boulder. No photos please. Save your film for Narcissus. Next stop on the Tour d’Hades — in Latin ‘itinere Hades’ — are those fields Russell Crow’s nonsensically named character keeps going on about in Gladiator.

Have you guessed at the meaning of all this?

First, guess how many times my autocorrect changed ‘itinere’ to ‘itinerary’.

Second, what a delight to imagine conversing with Kafka about how matrimony and fatherhood would have freed Sisyphus’ of  his endless task; to imagine showing him the childfree side of TikTok.

Third, the meaning of all this: I wanted to write about how this entire year I have felt stuck in a kind of limbo regarding moving from Spain and finding a permanent rental flat here. Instead of writing I looked up the concept of limbo and its different iterations across time and culture.

Are you tired of our moving saga yet? I know I am. So I’ll tell you what I’m telling myself a few times an hour: just one more small move; there are movers for the big stuff; you don’t have too much stuff in this place, you have kept this place very clean, the cat only has to get through one car ride, and then you will be finished.

Honestly, I hoped that typing that out would help settle it into my psyche. Alas, dear reader, I don’t think it did.

When I have something like an appointment or a zoom call in the afternoon I am nearly unable to do anything but ruminate on the dreaded thing the entire day. It is quite frustrating. When people are described as ‘out of control’ there is usually an implied frantic energy, but this is the exact opposite. Like I’ve been compelled to experience one long, agonising moment for hours, unmoving and unblinking.

This year I have lived in that moment. Uncertain employment. Uncertain where in the world we would be living. Uncertain when and if we would ever find a flat.

An entire year of cajoling, coaxing, massaging my nervous system out of that quicksand. I’m not surprised that my personal reading and writing practice has been, frankly, appallingly poor. Getting back into my good, mind-nourishing habits is in the list of top five things I’m looking forward to when we have a home.

My immersion blender might be number one on that list.

In conclusion, here is a photo of me in my new autumn ‘24 oversized trench coat, posing with one of my arch nemeses, the water pumps of Berlin.