"Franz_Kafka_-_Diaries_1912" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kafka Franz)

such as these were, bound to each other by their Jewishness in a degree unknown to us, get to know each other easily. He distinguished himself in his studies, for he
had acquired a good deal of knowledge at home. He liked talking to the strange boys, especially as, when they found out about his money, they all crowded around him
offering to sell him things. One, who wanted to sell him Уdays,Ф astonished him especially. Free board was called Уdays.Ф They were a saleable commodity because
the members of the community, who wanted to perform a deed pleasing to God by providing free board for no matter what student, did not care who sat at their tables.
If a student was unusually clever, it was possible for him to provide himself with two sets of free meals for one day. He could bear up under these double meals so
much the better because they were not very ample, after the first meal, one could still swallow down the second with great pleasure, and because it might also happen
that one day was doubly provided for while other days were empty. Nevertheless, everyone was happy, naturally, if he found an opportunity to sell such an additional
set of free meals advantageously. Now if someone arrived in summer, as LЎwy did, at a time when the free board had long since been distributed, the only possible way
to get any was to buy it, as the additional sets of free meals which had been available at first had all been reserved by speculators.


The night in the Yeshivah was unbearable. Of course, all the windows were open since it was warm, but the stench and the heat would not stir out of the rooms, the
students, who had no real beds, lay down to sleep without undressing, in their sweaty clothes, wherever they happened to be sitting last. Everything was full of fleas. In
the morning everyone hurriedly wet his hands and face with water and resumed his studies. Most of the time they studied together, usually two from one book.
Debates would often draw a number into a circle. The Rosh Yeshivah explained only the most difficult passages here and there. Although LЎwy laterЧhe stayed in
Ostro ten days, but slept and ate at the innЧfound two like-minded friends (they didn't find one another so easily, because they always first had carefully to test the
opinions and reliability of the other person), he nevertheless was very glad to return home because he was accustomed to an orderly life and couldn't stand the
homesickness.


In the large room there was the clamor of card playing and later the usual conversation which Father carries on when he is well, as he is today, loudly if not coherently.
The words represented only small shapes in a formless clamor. Little Felix slept in the girls' room, the door of which was wide open. I slept across the way, in my own
room. The door of this room, in consideration of my age, was closed. Besides, the open door indicated that they still wanted to lure Felix into the family while I was
already excluded.


Yesterday at Baum's. Strobl was supposed to be there, but was at the theater. Baum read a column, УOn the FolksongФ; bad. Then a chapter from Des Schicksals
Spiele und Ernst; very good. I was indifferent, in a bad mood, got no clear impression of the whole. On the way home in the rain Max told me the present plan of
УIrma Polak.Ф I could not admit my mood, as Max never gives it proper recognition. I therefore had to be insincere, which finally spoiled everything for me. I was so
sorry for myself that I preferred to speak to Max when his face was in the dark, although mine, in the light, could then betray itself more easily. But then the mysterious
end of the novel gripped me in spite of all the obstacles. On the way home, after saying good night, regret because of my falsity and pain because of its inevitability.
Plan to start a special notebook on my relationship with Max. What is not written down swims before one's eyes and optical accidents determine the total impression.


When I lay on the sofa the loud talking in the room on either side of me, by the women on the left, by the men on the right, gave me the impression that they were
coarse, savage beings who could not be appeased, who did not know what they were saying and spoke only in order to set the air in motion, who lifted their faces while
speaking and followed the spoken words with their eyes.


So passes my rainy, quiet Sunday, I sit in my bedroom and am at peace, but instead of making up my mind to do some writing, into which I could have poured my whole
being the day before yesterday, I have been staring at my fingers for quite a while. This week I think I have been completely influenced by Goethe, have really
exhausted the strength of this influence and have therefore become useless.


From a poem by Rosenfeld describing a storm at sea: УThe souls flutter, the bodies tremble.Ф When he recites, LЎwy clenches the skin on his forehead and the bridge of
his nose the way one would think only hands could be clenched. At the most gripping passages, which he wants to bring home to the listener, he himself comes close to
us, or rather he enlarges himself by making his appearance more distinct. He steps forward only a little, opens his eyes wide, plucks at his straight black coat with his
absent-minded left hand and holds the right out to us, open and large. And we are supposed, even if we are not gripped, to acknowledge that he is gripped and to explain
to him how the misfortune which has been described was possible.