Genius

Hardly did I sleep last night!—hardly a wink. For, my mind raged in schizoid fever.

And, I chatted with a friend and coworker, full-blown conversations, and he spoke with a sharp, well-formed jawline, soft smiling eyes, dimples symmetric above his smile. And I spoke soft and demure, deflecting and kind—for sometimes, man must speak in the spirit of woman!—but never in his thoughts nor actions.

For, I was working on my website—the clothing page—and when a man pushes hard against the limits, do the boundaries bend within his mind, and he searches in his friends for answers.

How earlier that day, I chatted with a friend—a die-hard supporter of Manchester United—and how I, who have watched but ten minutes of soccer in my lifetime, was choosing between the teams Chelsea and his own, the latter because he wanted me to like them, too. And I thought and I reflected, and I watched a minute of Manchester United—the most recent game—and I felt stunned and stirred by the shocking, cohesive offensive formation.

What pressure, what unity of spirit!—what Satanic drive, and I decided that if the lion roars, as in Chelsea’s logo, then does the Devil hiss, and if man conquers beast, the Devil enslaves him in his turn, captive and frothing at the mouth.

Oh, and I alone!—can meet with the Devil and emerge unscathed, who embedded his soul in the design of my website, and how it is the most violent page I have ever seen in my life!

How shocking, how bold—and I use a mix of golden ratios, each in proportion of the other, the spirit of harmony and balance as nature intended, then rigid multiples of 12px, the desperate attempt to impose order upon the chaos of this Universe, and in this page is the conflict of our human mortality.

And I do not stop there!—but the text is 17px and 21px, and I use natural HTML proportions, and I increase the line-spacing to 1.5, and my margins and paddings are multiples of 4px and 12px—for 4px separates 17px and 21px, and 21px is half of 42.

Nor, do I stop there!—and I discard the cart icon, obsolete and an icon from a past age, humanity must long forget and move beyond, and I replace it with one of my own—just a black hole of spirit, the Devil’s soul captured and enslaved in the emblem of capitalism.

What can I say, but that I am a genius, and let us simply acknowledge it—for look at this literary mind, unparalleled!—and how I embody in design the spirit of the Universe, and the secret of it all is the conflict between peace and prejudice.

And let us put it all on the table, for I wish my enemies to have no leverage over me, but rather I should wear this title of genius and discard it like my past name, a relic unused and unwanted.

But I cook feasts for my family and friends—banquets of rich flavor and meals, and they salivate over the memories, and I do it for free, never charge, and never with an ounce of thought, but do I hear the melodies of Bach resounding in my mind, clear clarion trumpets from Heaven.

And I am touched from Heaven and God himself—and I have bedded with the best blonde in all of Berkeley, when I was a student, long-done and forgotten, and then I did it again.

Next, shall I build the servers and the plumbing, and they shall not be in Typescript, but in Python—for Python is a first-class language, designed to be easy-to-read and intuitive, named after the spirit of Monty Python and the great British satirists.

And, when OpenAI called about a front-end opportunity, I told them I do not write in Typescript, and they hung up and looked for another—peace!—as though, they may find one of my make.

Thus, shall I connect to the APIs of Stripe and Printful.

Oh, glorious, joyous company is Stripe!—and Collison, a fellow conservative, scorned by the city he feeds and sustains with the spirit of his soul. Let them be one to me, for it makes no difference, and I could never run a company!—for, at my day job, do I lead a team to develop the blockchain, which I designed with some help from others, and once did I push for the termination of a teammate not up to my standards.

Oh, heartbreaking sorrow!—for to cut and harm a soul costs me dear, and I have not the sharp teeth and killer instinct of the sharks in the ocean upon which I float, comfortable and secure, upon my raft of wood and lumber.

Printful, too, appears a master of the industry, who handle the work and logistics I could never imagine, too caught up in my spiritual inquiry.

The site, of course, I built in Astro, because I disdain Javascript and its cousins, and I shall strip them from my life, a salute to a service fulfilled and completed.

In my these years I have lived one thousand lives, and I am done—long done—and this world yet draws more and more from my spirit, so I, with Divine blessing, guide and feed this population that nurtures and soothes and heals my wounded, damaged soul.

So, come and touch me!—I dare you…