Resolutions at the New-Year-Time

by Franz Kafka

1. Must eat more butter. Growing so frightfully thin.

2. Have to finish The Castle or I shall be the laughing-stock of the Savoy circle. Brod is right. Whoever read an unfinished novel? Woe.

3. If I get engaged this year, I will either go through with the wedding, despite the chains it will embed around my arms and legs and mind, despite it being indubitably the end of my life of literature, despite how I loathe the female body and all of its entrapments, despite the fact that it will turn me into my father and I will have to kill myself, if the Tuberculosis doesn’t do its job once and for all.

4. Perhaps I shall also try to write with shorter sentences, and as an experiment try not to be so fatalistic all the time.

5. I’ve heard bowler hats are the new trucker hat, so perhaps I’ll pick one of those up.

6. Nobody just goes around saying “Paaaartay!” anymore. Such a phrase-dearth must be remedied.

7. Must stop tripping over the true way and its frickin’ frickin’ tightrope stretched not aloft but just above the ground. The true way can kiss my Austro-Hungarian ass is what I’m saying.

8. Shall begin daily physical therapy arm exercises to avoid carpal-tunnel syndrome from writing copious letters to women, as said letters are the only thing I have to keep me occupied during the glum winter afternoons. Of course by “letters” I mean “porn” and by “writing” I mean “masturbating.”

9. That Beyonce would be really hot if she’d just keep her fucking mouth shut.

10. Will stop asking people to “check out” blood clot/lung chunks I cough up into handkerchiefs, even if they all do look like aeroplanes. Oh, how I do love areoplanes.

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