The Fiddle

Now, for the Appendix and the meaning of my Life.

And I have two debts to repay—these are to Bach and to Satoshi. So, on counterpoint—I must take this further and farther and pay tribute to the master to whom I owe it all. Every one of my goals previous, I can derive from this.

Do I like Bitcoin and Ethereum?—but combine the two in counterpoint, and I shall provide the resoundant tune.

Do I like fashion and dislike its ephemerality?—but create a clothing line immortal, with but one season of five pieces, the five sides of a pentagon, Satanic, here comes the Devil, for your soul! In each piece, do I combine Heaven and Hell, and I have nothing more to say.

Do I like philosophy and dislike other philosophers?—they, my lessers, whom I have used and now I discard?—but I have written all I have to say, and the rest shall be silence, counterpoint to my oh-so-violent speech and conduct. There shall be sound!—and there shall be music, but every dance must come to an end.

Do I like design and dislike other designers?—and this is much the same, indeed, and I have my language ready and refined, in which I alone speak, and whisper to my reader, my viewer, and my audience, seduce him with the Devil and God alike.

Do I live and act Republican, conservative in spirit and thought?—and I am counterpoint to the city of San Francisco, liberal Hellscape, and I shall save the city, slowly and sure.

BJJ?—is a bit of a dance, and I am counterpoint to my opponent, and I am “weird” on the mat, because I try never to win, but to submit him gracefully, if he would like me to, and if it would be uncourteous not to do so. How can I strain, and strive, when he shall teach me and show me gentle kindness, if I do the same for him?—and just a touch of morality, for most of what I have said, is done.

The greatest counterpoint is man and Christ, or ego and God—and my three laws on liberty are in opposition to Christ, and in full, knowing acknowledgement and respect, and they cannot exist without Him, nor should they ever try. This is the key to success and the meaning of my life, and I accept these laws, to show Christ a greater challenge, for I am not God’s gift to man, but Man’s Gift to God.

Let us embellish this our spiteful, hateful, wonderful ego!—and show God, we can tame it and bring it to heel, and submit to him, still, for he is not impressive, who submits a kitten of a soul. I am the striped tiger of the jungle, who bows down still, and only to one, but He!

And on Satoshi, did I not double-count him?—but, I want to accumulate more wealth in that oh-so-divine asset he created, not for the sake of wealth, but for aesthetic purposes. Does it fall in value?—then let me accumulate more, and does it increase?—then, I shall accumulate all the same, if slightly less happy in my decreased efficiency.

What is the purpose of wealth if it does not look nice?

And there are heroes, whom I forgot to mention, like Benjamin Franklin, who tamed lighting—but I am Jove, who throws it, or Seneca, who accepted suicide—but, and now for a personal story.

And how difficult was my high school!—I transferred into a new school district, my parents made the choice against my will, how frosty my relationship with them, and I knew nobody.

In the first two months, there were two student suicides, and I had a heartbreak—and I felt so, so lonely!—and there were more suicides over the years, and later, I found out the fellow whom I had followed, shadowed, before I entered the school, killed himself, too. And it all comes full circle.

When I was 15, I did not think I would live past 25—and when I was 25, not past 30, and that I would surely kill myself before then. Do not, do not do it!—the pain does not lessen, but the spirit grows stronger.

Not your life to touch, but to God, does it belong!—and I am just as lonely as I was then, and I know nobody shall understand me, too lofty is this genius, and nobody else shall further the idea of counterpoint. This society shall fall without me!—but let it do so, and perhaps, with God’s grace, shall there rise another, greater and higher than I, who can do what I cannot, for this world is too hard for me to turn.

And now, I have healed more, and for the first time, do I look at my life with a hope that I may live to see more days, yet. Let it be schizophrenic!—and let there be loneliness and anguish, a touch of madness, perhaps a hint of love or loathing.

This is the human experience, or it is mine, at least, and I should not trade it for the world.

Spinoza’s God is not wrong, but boring—and my version is better, if you see “The Bible,” for I say simply that God is Light. How can one imagine 12 dimensions, otherwise?—12, just as many days as I have been writing, and I said I should stop at 40, but this is number 41, and I will try not to end on 42.

That would be too poetic, so I shall stop one early. Just, leave the story unfinished!—and upon my deathbed, may I write the last note.

What proper, gorgeous, asymmetry!—that the majority of life is done in the beginning, and I am sure there is a curve to resemble that, logarithmic, perhaps. What does my Golden Ratio, exponential curve—look like, the one from before, in a previous post?

I wonder if I can use it for my cryptoeconomic incentives—I imagine compensation positive should be 1.618^2 times that of negative, or similar. Then, there should be two tiers of compensation—or maybe slightly more, and they should not relate by other than this.

For instance, one tier for oracles and signing on each chain, and another for block production—and the former, divided across all participants and occurrences. There is also the beautiful Ethereum linearity for the correlation factor—and I think I shall use the two of these in conjunction.

Counterpoint to the rescue, and there is no way I can convince the world of its merit.

But, enough technical thought!—we will leave that for its own space.

Maybe a new section on technical writings?—and I can make this one “philosophy” and close the chapter, and secretly, because, let us not disguise the fact, I may be addicted to this, continue under guise in a new chapter for whatever I happen to be working on?

Sneak in morality, like vegetables into a brownie?—oh, please not. I shall try to make it entertaining, regardless of what happens—and we shall see, and I am sure with discussions like this, shall I keep myself engaged and present in life.

Indeed, I was sad and lonely, for I think nobody will grasp my mind, and I shall walk the Earth as a lonely figure, he alone who knows and loves and cares for counterpoint. Then, I realized I could separate the two concerns.

I understand myself—and other people like me, and I dislike myself, and therefore, if we combine the pieces, then it is enough for me. I am liked and understood in the whole—and once again, does counterpoint come to the rescue.

How are you not tired of hearing that word?—but, it is my favorite, so I hope you shall indulge this most humble of souls. I merely want to see the fiddle of this world strung and tuned Baroque.