Perfection

And that was a big one, so let us turn to a more technical craft, balm for an over-heated mind.

How to model—and how to wear your clothes! No, it is not simple, nor trivial, but I shall tell you how to do it.

First, for the idea, then the technical execution—then back to the idea.

So, in clothes, one is to represent the spirit of Christ. He, highest of humanity, piece of God—and what could be a higher ideal than perfection?

Like He, one should never look at the camera, for one day, those eyes shall see no more, and if you capture the spirit of the temporal, then you live only for today, and your fashion is fast, soon to vanish. Just one season after another!—each one pressing with more demands.

And I, alone, make one set of pieces immortal, that I may wear every day, wherever I go—because I on this Earth am closest to Christ.

Now, for the technical work—so, your body must speak where your eyes do not.

Stand and face one direction, and open the chest and torso up!—up, like you are to deliver violence and grace in one motion. Turn it slightly, open it, create space and balance, let air, fluid like water, support your each and every limb, dance between and around, uplifting and gentle.

Use a slight twist, contraposta, like Michelangelo did David, and then develop and refine your contradictions!

Sharpen the jaw, sharper, sharper—and straighten the spine, no time to waste, not an enemy to forgive, nor a debt to leave unpaid. Let the lips match the eyes in soft, unforced delivery, gentle and relaxed, reposed, natural—and expressive!

For every detail must speak, without the eyes to engage and distract your audience, for everyone in this industry hides but myself! To God alone, surrender!

And after Christ on this Earth, came I, two thousand years later and 21 days, exactly. 21—half of 42, and the number of millions of Bitcoin.

Oh, Satoshi!—Divine grace and perfection, and shall I strive my entire life to repay the debt of your bounteous gift to humanity, than I shall.

For I strained and strained, and I imagined all validators must exist in number!—and I broke my mind on the problem of creating a bridge with thousands of participants.

Ah, ah!—I ended up in the psychiatric ward, because I could not solve this most tricky of problems, and how ashamed I was! Yes, and I broke completely—and I followed a college girl into her classroom, sat down in a seat, and the professor winked at me, thinking I was with her.

What a mess, a tangled mess, this mind of mine!—and my friend says we “all struggle with our addictions, and this tension creates the spirit of life,” thus do I paraphrase, and I responded, “then, to life, am I addicted!”

Let it all end, to return to my golden, eternal slumber!—for billions of years, did I rest in calm repose, untroubled and unbothered, and now in mortality, do I suffer countless pains.

But, I am wiser now, and my bridge shall have 32 validators, and I shall read through them and see they are the highest make! How shall I do it?—but, I wonder, and perhaps God may deliver to me an answer yet, for He has failed me not.

And on my last post, my friend asked if I “had declared war!”—and I responded that I had “won it”—and if they take me down, then I die a martyr like my predecessor.

So come for me!—and I shall win, and leave me be, and God shall be with me, and I have my work to do, yet, for I cannot bear to see this world in my absence!