The Salesman

6:26AM, and I have ten minutes before I leave for Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, so this will pose a challenge!—but let us begin.

And my friend asked me how my great and brilliant mind works, my words, not his—and I told him that I take an idea, and I run it in parallel besides Bach, and I see where it holds and where I find contradictions. When it is not resonant!—then, do I discard it, otherwise, I sit down and let the music run through my fingers, because I am a musician and a composer, after all.

And the topic for today!—is Einstein, and indeed, was he the greatest salesman this world has ever seen, besides the next best genius after I. And, did he convince the world that physics is real and immortal!—and all he had to do was point to an experiment, to say, Newton was wrong.

How much more difficult is my task!—for I deal with human morality and the spirit, twice as formidable as physics, and equally eternal, and more so. Because I argue, time and again—that the Universe is a simulation, and it operates in twelve dimensions, and we are on the third, created by a benevolent race of aliens who operate on the fourth dimension, themselves created by those on the fifth, and so on, and so forth.

Thus, we will never understand our laws—and all our simulations operate on a two-dimensional screen, and such is the way it goes. And why twelve?—because I like string theory and M-theory, and the Kaku fellow, well—he is not quite the writer, I read God’s Equation and I found it dry, one page after another of boring nonsense and humble, not-so-self-promotion.

Whereas, I come out and say I am the best, why not he do the same?—so I shall do it for him, and I know nothing of the man, but that he was first in his class at Harvard, and that is enough. And do I dislike him in the future?—then, so be it, for I have taken the Japanese spirit in me, and my hero is Satoshi, and I can cast aside the others like pawns and pieces, broken and cracked, never to use again.

6:30AM, now and I have five more minutes, so let me be brief—and where was I? Yes, and the human spirit alone is immortal—and how shall I ever sell people on a vision of themselves that they have rejected, over and over again, selling Christ at each turn?

Ah, shame—but I have come to save the day, yet again, and I may, in turn become the best salesman—because I sell a vision that is not myself! And all I do is to promote a God I love and hold dear, and if I convince but one mind that there is virtue in religion, then have I done God’s humble work, as his dearest servant.

For God, and God alone!—do we walk this cool and cold Earth, cruel even in its kindness, and warm only in its hot, molting core. Yes, a science reference, just a callback, and only a few minutes left…

And did my friend ask how my great, cavernous mind works!—so, I compare my idea along a track with Bach, I run them side-by-side, and I see what holds. Then, at the end, do I see—if I am fortunate—an image of the cross, and a man atop.

For, another friend asked, from where do I derive my Christianity?—for I do not go to Church, and I do not read the Bible, although I read it once—terribly boring!—and I liked Genesis alone.

And it is just an image—just one picture in my mind, and upon a sheet of paper, notebook and pen—I had ordered it to finish designing my website, and the page for my clothing, which I sell, yet I had already finished by the time they arrived, for Amazon cannot send a pen and a notebook in under a week—on this paper, I drew an image of a cross.

And it is grid-lined paper—so I took up one square on the top, then three, then two below—and it is indeed as simple as 1-2-3—that you look to God, and he may smile upon thee!

Ah, yes, some poetic nonsense and puns and alliterations—and my time is up!