The pandemic is very Kafkaesque.
Amid the turbulence of mask warfare, the lockdown’s existential eruptions and vaccine implosions, the droll antagonisms issuing in the wake of COVID-19’s steamroll campaign over our once idle-minded society, a turbulent inner torment stews within our collective consciousness. People are freaking out and are experiencing online spiritual meltdowns across the land. They are starting riots, primed for upheaval and revolution and killing themselves and driving 50 miles per hour over the speed limit, shooting people waywardly, jumping off roofs and strangling themselves. Yeah, it’s fine.
There is no better way to dehumanize a society than to deprive its inhabitants of folly and trivial diversion; if you shove their face in the puddle of communal shit which is the limbo of their recursive reality, you will steal their essence, their humanity, for it is not worth much.
We differentiate ourselves from insects and vultures by facile diversions. This thing we call “humanity” is merely that quality which amuses us without demanding. The heart of a light man is not weighed. The pandemic stole our lightness and cast us into the paralysis of burdensome doom. Robbed of folly, we wallow in reclusion.
Those of us like Gregor, we of hideous deformation that cannot fathom others, were unscathed by a pandemic that merely asked everyone else to be like us. Temporarily, until it was “safe” again. Cower in place from the monsters gathered at our doorstep.
For the first time in our lives, Gregor was the center of the Universe.