Whereas numerous attempts to dislodge my tongue from my cheek have proven vain in the past, I hereby resolve to leave it where it is and let aspirations of earnestness alone, save in the making of French sauces where one must be sober-minded. One cannot reasonably undo a lifetime’s worth of personality and so one shall give up the pretense of trying.
Whereas improvement has become this era’s most especial gilded fatling, such that it is nigh inconceivable that one could go even a day without encountering the hurried strivings of the madded throng, I hereby resolve to improve only by accident.
Whereas it is very law in these our latter days to tolerate less and accept even fewer, lest they yield entirely to the pressures of the soi disant righteous, I hereby resolve to tolerate everything and accept anything, my principle caveat being that one can tolerate anything if one ignores nearly everyone and accept everyone doing almost anything if one is distracted enough by French sauces and consommé.
Whereas it is said that spirited contrarianism is a young man’s sport, I hereby resolve to continue its cultivation through middle age that it might become so firmly set in the bedrock of behavior that none shall bother me in my dotage.
Whereas the votaries of the self chant in unhushed tones prioritizing one’s own care and the firm establishment of impenetrable boundaries and borders, dispensing with the enervations of the needy crowd and its venal wants for the sake of personal fulfillments, I hereby resolve to tear down the remaining walls, to continually say ‘yes,’ to stretch taut and leave ragged the heart, and nerve, and sinew, and finally, when the hour approaches, to be glad for having been thoroughly used up.
Whereas there are unnumbered laws and creeds that capture for a day the inattention of a spoilt and aimless people, I hereby resolve to let my heart seize up in my bosom, eagerly and decisively, at some future dawning, to expire suddenly having never paid them any mind whatsoever and to feast, and sing, and love, and dare to feel… until the last course is served — one hopes with velouté, the last notes fade, the last embrace melts away, the last flicker of sensation dies…