Kafka and a friend

I was reading Franz Kafka at the Media Union tonight - a break from grading poems. Peiming sat opposite me, working on the lecture about American composer George Crumb that she will deliver a week from Wednesday. Because I am a compulsive email-checker, I stopped reading midway through "A Little Woman" and went to the nearest computer.

It was a pleasant and strange surprise, receiving a message from my junior college classmate and friend, Sloth. Pleasant because I haven't spoken to him in a year. Strange because six or seven years ago, over email, he confessed to me how much he liked Kafka's "The Metamorphosis" and I bought for him The Diaries of Franz Kafka from the Borders store here in Ann Arbor. Strange too because he mentioned in this email that upon spying the book on his shelf he decided to send me a message. I had to write back immediately, saying how I was reading Kafka two minutes before reading Sloth's own message.

It's also rather funny how several nights ago, while selecting poems from my old collection to give to my students, I found a sestina I wrote years ago about my friendship with Sloth, how we used to meet up and talk about our school days and feel depressed about our futures. Or rather, Sloth was often sad and I'd listen to his woes. And then I would get depressed after listening.

I hope he's a happier person these days. Though it sounds as if he's still as broke as before.