I really do need to write a treatise on how the Kafka Restoration Society was born.  Although maybe I’ll leave out the 500 micrograms of LSD that were coursing through my veins at the time.  I did manage to make peace with the Yuppie DeadHead and learned that Gregor Samsa was the Fifth Beatle.  This great revelation made me proud to be an Amerikan.  Electrified Jimmy Swaggart further cemented the deal.  It was really startling to do nothing and yet still create art.   Somehow the nothingness of the moment was elevated to such exalted heights.


The early idea was simply a loosely based group of writers and poets getting together to drink and sip of the elixir of literary genius.  Kafka might get mentioned.  Originally it was conceived as the Kafka Restoration Committee.  That seemed a bit too stuffy and elitist for Whitman-esque populist like myself.


So careful consideration led to the birth of the Kafka Restoration Society.  I often tell people it’s a conglomerate of all my dead friends and amours.  It raises eyebrows among the bourgeois and proletariat alike.  I suppose it would be a good time to declare that I am on their side.  They are unlikely to believe me.  I’m not sure if I can blame them but I do own a Franz Kafka T-shirt.  I readd his biography and even some of the writing.  I am not really completely without a clue although it seems that way sometimes.


The society is in full bloom now.  1986 and rolling along.  It’s not 17 years later and the fictional, non-existent society carries on.




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