Calm

5:40AM—and my stomach tears at its lining, uncomfortable and roaring with a hint of rage, but I am yet generally calm, and we shall discuss why the former, in just a moment, and perhaps, too the latter.

But I am still exhausted!—for a week, or two, or three without much sleep, and it takes a toll, and this is early, yet, do I wake—for I listen to a master in Benjamin Franklin, who recommends one “sleep early,” paraphrasing, and “wake the same,” for the day waits for nobody.

In any case!—but what happened yesterday?—and I reviewed more code, some of it, I shall admit, AI-generated—much of it, perhaps, and I wonder whether they are using me to my most potential, but that is a question not for myself, but for the Divine entities alone to know and to fully understand.

Some things we should not fit in our own minds!—and I tried to write some code, indeed I had a task sitting in my inbox for about a week, and for the first time that week, I wrote some Rust, and yet did I have to stop early, since I was blocked on missing infrastructure—to create new tasks, and tickets, to assign them, and to wait until this “plumbing” is complete.

Now, this was the good, and for the “bad”—but I did play a touch of hooky, had an “extended European lunch,” and with my friend, we went out first to pick up a Cheesecake from a small Shop in a far corner of Oakland, where the owner, happy and unpretentious, works the counter in the establishment he setup, comfortable and at-ease—and then, we made a trip to the opposite corner in Northern Berkeley, Downtown—perhaps—where we visited a Pizza place with long lines of happy customers and daily-changing Vegetarian fare.

What a loud and bustling atmosphere!—in the second place, a jazz band playing live, and we got a pie to share, green sauce to match, and we sat in the room, a table prime real estate, just by the line—and upon that pizza did we feast!

And first, a quick detour—but I said I am a “liberal” in the last post, and I meant it in the sense of the John Locke classical liberal, and perhaps, that makes me a “neo-liberal,” and I try to pay my debts where they are due—but in any case, I declared myself libertarian, for those who did not connect the dots, and it makes me yet more Red and more alienated from this my society.

So!—yes, I felt uncomfortable in that shop, which had a red drink in the refrigerators made a pun on the name of Lenin, and other such features of pushing-the-line-socialism that makes my gut and gonads shiver and tingle—yet, did I soldier through this, and another, which shall we get to shortly.

And this pizza!—but it was so incredibly spicy, just pushing the line of my tolerance, and it was equally delicious, and I enjoyed it dear, but my friend!—he felt none of the spice, and my nose ran with my discomfort, yet he could not find it, and he scrutinized the pizza and saw nothing, shrugging his shoulders in mild confusion, and I am indeed quite sensitive, quite sensitive.

In any case!—this is the reason for the discomfort in my stomach, for it pays the toll, and I did wake up early to evict this “nonsense” from my gut, as I wish I could too, evict the socialism that I saw, play-pretend-socialism, I suppose, perhaps in this post, just a few hours later.

So!—we got back and had our cheesecakes at his apartment, and watched a highlight of some soccer game or other, for I am not a fan but he is, and I tried to follow, but he did, and I could not, aside from “this-ball-moves-there,” and then, “yet-it-moves-again-there.”

And we watched a short clip on highlights from some racing track, drivers testing cars and preparing for an upcoming circuit—and this, too, I understood not, but I liked the fair-featured faces and discipline I saw—what comfort with danger, lives in those men of men!

But there is no reason to name names, for to drive upon such roads is impressive, indeed—at those high speeds, and narrow turns, conditions of heat and exhaustion, fatigue, and perhaps rain and thunder, and bearing it all upon narrow shoulders, and trust in the team and in the engineers, people to guide the decisions, and others who built the infrastructure, and it is quite, quite impressive!

The car has narrow shoulders, not the men—or I do not make a comment of judgement or to diminish, not here!

So!—in any case, I returned and I worked, and I worked, first for the job, then when it finished, for the day, then for myself, and I drew out more designs, these ones for the bridge-to-be, and it shall have a main page different, but I should not spoil it further, not yet.

Just enough to keep me excited!—and if people have done it before, it is often not worth doing, but to improve upon it, or take it further, or perfect it.

And I scoped out more engineering work—on the “clothing design page”—and planned out the remaining frontend tasks, and I spoke with Claude, whom I consider a “schizophrenic intern,” and having schizophrenia, and having once been an intern, or twice, I consider this not a comment made in poor taste.

I chatted with a friend!—about a restaurant and plans in San Francisco, to meet, and I gradually realized once again, that I have a “dim opinion” of the food here, and I told him I feel it lacks “soul and spirit,” and I suggested one place in which I place my last hopes, and told him I should welcome any of his recommendations, for this city has me beat—and I told him perhaps, at the end of this diatribe, that “maybe I dislike San Francisco.”

I cooked my own dinner!—homemade, handmade pasta with marinara sauce, the same, and my ground beef and salad, the same as yesterday, and there is no danger there, only safety and a touch of love, and Rustic comfort.

Now a quick reprieve, and we shall discuss intellectual—and I had this idea, I had recently began to toy with, and it is the idea that “in axioms, does the challenge lie.”

For so many people, and for myself, are the axioms of life—or a project, what it may be—they are muddy and confused, contradictory, glaring and enraged with anger and lust!—each one trying to outcompete the others, and for a moment, standing tall and supreme, the others forgotten.

Then, to refine these and turn these straight is a majority of the challenge—and once this is done, perhaps, one may move higher and further with greater ease—but this takes all of the work, and perhaps, and I know not yet—but perhaps—it is the beginning of an exponential curve, slow, and slow, but then faster.

For, some of these decisions!—one must not revisit, if one does them correct.

Back to the topic, and I went to bed, and I slept, and dreamed, and pondered—but I remember not my dreams, except those from last night, and they are not-so-interesting, but perhaps they are, so quickly, to those.

And I dreamed I was an alien!—sent to live among men, and I asked them, “them,” the creators of my dream, “from where I came,” and they responded “Mars,” and I asked if that meant there was “life on Mars,” and they replied with silence.

So!—I knew there was no life on Mars, thus, I was dreaming, and thus not an alien, and with a touch of relief, did I watch the rest of it unfold, passive observer, and I remember it not, because only the contradictions stand out—and often, do I encounter a test or two like this during the night, and I must keep myself in touch and sane.

In any case!—I lay in bed awake, some time, after I had gotten rid of that most spicy pizza, and this means using the restroom, simply to be explicit, and it hurt-like-hell, terrible discomfort, but I digress—and I lay in bed, and I had in my chest a pit of misery, or of pain, tinged with sorrow.

And I wondered!—what woman should I have, for I had hinted to my aunt perhaps I should like a liberal woman, truly liberal, and she pursed her lips unhappy, and I believe she may be right, then I must have a conservative, but she, the conservative, would likely look upon my long list of weaknesses and eccentricities—the schizophrenia, drawing into my music and writing, and this and that, all strange and weird—perhaps with a touch of pity and disgust.

So!—then, I wondered and wondered yet, and I wondered what shall I do?—and maybe I should have no one, but then I must kill myself, for I could not bear it, but I cannot kill myself, for my Life belongs to God, and He alone may judge for me—and I thus wondered and reasoned like this, and then I turned to the old and reliable method of “shaping the world.”

And I realized!—but if I have an agenda to decrease polarization, and at this point, the last post is a must-read—to make the country more tolerant of opposing views, it is to bring people back to center, and thus, I may have more options available to me, for I am quite and entirely selfish, that I only wish to create in society the ideal of a woman, so I may mate comfortable and in happy Delight!

Well, so it goes, anyhow, and we are all selfish, who may be trusted with anything, and it is rare!—that one is selfless and not a terrible blend of toxic concoction, and I should not trust one, not for a moment, not further than I can see them, and further still.

So, I wake up to write!—and get one thing or two off my chest, and last night, did I listen again to Mozart, fulfilling for the soul, and this time, one of the minor concertos, in G—and there is a pair, this one the earlier of the two, and Delightful and Delicious, it followed my dinner like a dessert welcome and appreciated.

Calm, and slightly calmer, am I, indeed!